Mama said there'd be days like this.
Or did she? All I can remember is watching my parents struggle. Being reminded by my dad every day why it's important to love my grandparents. Being reminded every day about the hard work it took to purchase the matchbox 3 bedroom 2 bathroom house on Schnebelen Ave in South River Oaks. There were goods and bads, but I really think the points that stuck were the concepts of "you do what you gotta do to get what you need" and "nothing is strong enough to stand in your way if you want it bad enough."
The holidays are approaching, and it is my favorite time of year. But parenting is hard. Exhausting even. Being married is a daily lesson. And carrying this 4th baby gave way to some hormones that sent me from mother Mary to Godzilla in a matter of 14 seconds this morning. I have slaved over the boys' routines each morning, knowing that the preparation and frustration will pay off once Baby 4 is here and they will know how to survive in their morning routines. But damn. Today, everything hit the fan, and I'm so glad Derrius Guice the elf didn't happen to be stationed up there.
Bk3 and Briggs finished their breakfast and retreated to the couch where I lay out each boy's clothing. Of course, within far enough distance from one another to where they can sit without being bothered. BK3 decided he wasn't happy with his particular location and although I was in my room for 4 minutes to strap on my belly belt, compression stockings, and daily wear, I could hear the two of them arguing over location. But see, we are on a schedule. And I need WWE to take the back burner until AFTER school. I'm yelling from the back but nothing stops Briggs from launching Bk3's uniform across the living room, which in turn calls for BK3 to pounce and start the showdown. We are 26 minutes away from departure time, and I need everyone to focus. Meanwhile, Grayson is still eating at the speed of a sloth, picking every marshmallow out of his lucky charms before moving onto his star wars go-gurt, again, at the speed of a sloth. My words to bk3 were "You do NOT rule this house." to which he responded, "I think I do."
Pause. Deep breaths, Carrie. You're 32 weeks pregnant..
I sent him to the foot of the stairs to sit and wait for my approval to get in the car for school. I threw his "blankie" across the room which did the trick of getting his attention, and told him I didn't want his help unloading the dishwasher (like his Daddy had asked him to do as they started breakfast at 6 am). I said a few more choice sentences that came from the exhaustion inside, and the room went silent. Thank God I was dressed before the madness happened. For the first time in his short life, Grayson cleared the table of every food item/plate/utensil and made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth then get dressed. I guess he knew I meant business.
I went to unload and re-load the dishwasher...and cried.
In that instant, I knew that it was a tough moment. But one we all have time and time again. Whether we are mamas, wives, daughters, businesswomen, friends, or anything. Because we are human. Our children are humans, and it is our job to teach them. We are also humans, and it is in our cards to mess up in the process. If we don't remember that our God loves us so unconditionally to offer His only Son... then how do we expect a re-do each day? It is my clutch. I know that our marriage is full of lessons to be learned daily. I know that my children will see me fail, just as I saw my parents make their way through struggles. In that moment where I fought back every tear I could as I unloaded spoons and forks, Briggs thought of 42 different questions he could ask me. From "What college did Drew Brees play for?" to "Can I please touch the elf?" to "How old will I be when you go to Heaven?" I know he was just engaging with me, because he loves me. No matter how much their fighting with one another makes me feel.
As always, we loaded into the car, got ourselves onto Florida blvd and we would be fine. I took the time in the car to TRY to explain why mommy is so tired. I continued to smooth out the cracking in my voice as I got the boys to understand why I can't bend over as much. Why I shouldn't yell as much. Why they should be making the mornings easy for me, instead of harder. But of course, they have no idea what delivering a baby entails and now is surely not the time! Between the 4 of us, it was understood that we will try harder today and every day. I knew that was for me, especially. No matter how tired and exhausted. No matter how frustrated. No matter how ignored my small acts feel. I will be his wife. I will be their mama. I will be God's servant. Because no morning episode or daily struggle can measure as a fraction of the life Jesus gave for me.
I gave Bk3 a fist bump as he stepped out the car, trusting that when I see him almost 24 hours later, my renewed mind-set will be the first thing he wakes up to... I rounded the corner to head to school #2 carpool and sat in line as we waited for 8 am to arrive. Still answering every one of those questions from Briggsy. Thankful, because I know one day, a moody teenager Briggsy may want nothing to do with "mama's answers." I noticed there's no booksack. And it's show-n-tell day for Briggs. Grayson of course stayed on track to make sure he had his at his feet.
I'm thankful Briggs withheld his temper tantrum. Instead, he took a deep breath and said "Maybe Ms. Blair will let me do my show-n-tell tomorrow." Yes Briggs, maybe she will. Because your booksack is your responsibility, and you'll have to do life without it today. I almost cried again. I'm sure there's some bit of my Dad behind those stern mom moments. But again, we're humans. He did just fine. And so did I.
Today, I learned that if I forget my strength, forget my booksack, forget my sanity - it's ok. God promises us a re-do. Today's was minute compared to what is in store for us as a family. Trusting in the small struggles helps me to feel secure in the big unknowns that plague us all. God's got our backs. With or without the booksack...
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Monday, October 30, 2017
Seasons
I love when seasons change. In Louisiana, we are fortunate to have about 3 weeks of some "freezing" temps, 3 weeks of "cute spring", 3 weeks of "leaves changing" and the rest "It's too damn hot." But I still love a little change, and this past week was an abrupt kick to the shin with regards to cold. I'm a wimp, I'll admit it. The temps went from 85 to 44 in about 36 hours and this mama hadn't found cold maternity clothes OR up-sized the boys winter clothes into accessible reach for the morning routine. It did feel rather cozy though, to put a jacket on and wear sweat pants.
These past few months have been full of changing seasons on a whole different realm. Our 4th bundle has brought my hardest pregnancy yet, and I think it's a combination of being in my mid 30s, housing a growing life for the 4th time, and running after three little men. While some insist "OH IT MUST BE A GIRL THIS TIME" (let's not get ahead of ourselves), I choose to trust the reality. My body is tired and my mind is operating at about 45% capacity - all at the most intense time for my studio, as we build our whole 40+ pieces of new season choreography (set to compete December 1st). I get about 2 days completely off per month, but I can't complain. My job comes with incredible perks that would take me an hour to list. I have slowly started to see how this recent struggle just molds a new realization of "seasons" for my tiny world.
Briggs is obsessed with getting married. Within 2 weeks of school starting, he had already asked 3 girls for their hand in marriage. All of which turned him down...smart. He talked each week about each girl and discussed with me why she might have said no. The reasons ranged from "She just likes horses" to "she doesn't want to kiss me, but I don't know why not - she's 4 like me, momma." That comment surely forced me to hit the breaks down Florida Blvd. We've discussed how you decide who to marry (after College), when is the right age to have a girlfriend (after College), and how do you pick out a wedding ring (you take her to the jewelry store and let her pick out whatever she likes and you save your damn dollar bills until you have exactly that amount!). He got the courage up to ask a 4th, and what do you know - we have a wife. Glad he's happy. He also enjoys asking about age and "how old will Brannan be when I'm 25?", "Daddy, what was like it like when YOU were 25?" - to which Daddy explained how sometimes it's cool NOT to want to be older. "Briggsy, I would love to be 25 again." I chimed in, "Yeah, when Daddy was 25, Mommy and Daddy were boyfriend and girlfriend!" Briggsy giggled in the backseat, "But you still ARE boyfriend and girlfriend!" Thanks Briggsy - we needed that reminder. Don't we all? My middle love has taught me that LOVE should be what we talk most about. It's a season we need every minute of our lives.
This pregnancy has revealed to me a season of TRUST. From the spotting, to a placenta previa scare, to the early labor signs, to the checkups that proved to me that God had taken care of ALL of my worries - I know that trust is needed. That worry only makes those symptoms worse, and that He's got it all figured out. That I prayed for this 4th love. I prayed for all that comes along with it. And I will trust that this new life He's gifted to me is wholly HIS - I'm just housing it.
Understanding is the season that takes that rigid kick to the shin. Because when we are faced with situations where we want to scream at the top of our lungs, we surely aren't quick to soften our voices and understand the process. My children pick the most INCONVENIENT times to drop a #2. Right before a nap, right before overdue bedtime, on the soccer field, in carpool. Last night, Grayson decided he MUST take a crap while brushing his teeth before bed. Sure Gray, go ahead, get on the toilet. I go pee in the other bathroom upstairs because the 21 steps up is gonna do a number on my own bladder at this point. Only to come back to wailing brothers getting a kick out of a crying Grayson who happened to send his toothbrush swimming amidst the pile of shit. Somehow, I was a psychic at that moment, and knew what I was walking into before actually seeing the proof. I'm glad Briggs and Brannan thought it was so hilarious. I thought for a hot minute about attempting to just flush the toothbrush with the shit. But the pump failure of earlier this year brought me nightmares. So yeah - I dealt with it - reached in - threw it away - and washed my skin up to elbow about 3 times. Disgusting. I will never know why men get such a kick out of all things related to shit. Understanding - I need it. It's a season in this mama's life all too often.
3 nights a week, I come home so late that the boys are already sleeping. I can only walk up to their room, kiss their foreheads, say a prayer by myself, and go back downstairs to sleep. The other 4 nights, I try my best to make mama time as prayer time with the boys. No matter the struggles, I try my best to calm it down enough to pray with them. After an Our Father, one Hail Mary, and sometimes an Angel of God, I allow the boys to go one by one. Oldest to youngest. The prayers can range from thanking God for "my birthday party" to "mommy and daddy" to "daddy's tractor getting fixed" to "My tee tee is big" (Grayson....come on bro) I never know what will come out of their mouths. To hear BK3 pray tonight brought a season of HOPE. He said words that helped me see that he gets it. And maybe he's just repeating what he hears. Or maybe he's saying what he "thinks" is right. Or maybe his heart really is full of the love that's promised to us, and he's realizing it. I do not ask any questions; I just tell the boys thank you for praying with me. Kiss them goodnight, and back down to tackle that laundry list of to do's that I'm also learning just never end.
Today was actually a day of huge frustration where I told the boys that I was going to "take a day off as Mommy tomorrow" because they weren't saying thank you or appreciating the wonderful things their parents do for them. It was a true Monday no matter how hard I tried to flip the switch. From Grayson crawling into our bed at 2 am, to Briggs twirling his sock for 20 min this morning instead of getting dressed, to the missing Karate belt that I told the boys was their responsibility, to the extra flights of stairs I ran that I shouldn't have, to us being late everywhere we went. I told them that tomorrow's trick or treat would be canceled if they didn't make some big changes in the next 24 hours. Briggsy immediately burst out into "BUT EVERYBODY NEEDS A MOMMY!". And that was all I needed. To remember that these seasons of life sometimes all happen in one day: Trust, Hope, Understanding and Love. But it's up to us to seek it. They're all free gifts. So when we are tired, losing our hope, losing our patience, and losing our tempers, we must remember that our free gifts don't require a purchase. We must just take a deep breath, tell our heart to open back up a second, and let God take the reigns while we raise these humans to build a better world than we see today. Be grateful for the gifts. My gifts are being a wife. A mom. A sister, a daughter, a friend, and a teacher. How selfish of me not to be thankful? But then He forgives - so I breathe a huge sigh of relief and try again the next day. Seasons will come and go, but one thing remains the same - it's all part of a big plan that includes more joy than we could ever imagine. Even if that includes a tooth brush swimming in shit. I'll take it!
These past few months have been full of changing seasons on a whole different realm. Our 4th bundle has brought my hardest pregnancy yet, and I think it's a combination of being in my mid 30s, housing a growing life for the 4th time, and running after three little men. While some insist "OH IT MUST BE A GIRL THIS TIME" (let's not get ahead of ourselves), I choose to trust the reality. My body is tired and my mind is operating at about 45% capacity - all at the most intense time for my studio, as we build our whole 40+ pieces of new season choreography (set to compete December 1st). I get about 2 days completely off per month, but I can't complain. My job comes with incredible perks that would take me an hour to list. I have slowly started to see how this recent struggle just molds a new realization of "seasons" for my tiny world.
Briggs is obsessed with getting married. Within 2 weeks of school starting, he had already asked 3 girls for their hand in marriage. All of which turned him down...smart. He talked each week about each girl and discussed with me why she might have said no. The reasons ranged from "She just likes horses" to "she doesn't want to kiss me, but I don't know why not - she's 4 like me, momma." That comment surely forced me to hit the breaks down Florida Blvd. We've discussed how you decide who to marry (after College), when is the right age to have a girlfriend (after College), and how do you pick out a wedding ring (you take her to the jewelry store and let her pick out whatever she likes and you save your damn dollar bills until you have exactly that amount!). He got the courage up to ask a 4th, and what do you know - we have a wife. Glad he's happy. He also enjoys asking about age and "how old will Brannan be when I'm 25?", "Daddy, what was like it like when YOU were 25?" - to which Daddy explained how sometimes it's cool NOT to want to be older. "Briggsy, I would love to be 25 again." I chimed in, "Yeah, when Daddy was 25, Mommy and Daddy were boyfriend and girlfriend!" Briggsy giggled in the backseat, "But you still ARE boyfriend and girlfriend!" Thanks Briggsy - we needed that reminder. Don't we all? My middle love has taught me that LOVE should be what we talk most about. It's a season we need every minute of our lives.
This pregnancy has revealed to me a season of TRUST. From the spotting, to a placenta previa scare, to the early labor signs, to the checkups that proved to me that God had taken care of ALL of my worries - I know that trust is needed. That worry only makes those symptoms worse, and that He's got it all figured out. That I prayed for this 4th love. I prayed for all that comes along with it. And I will trust that this new life He's gifted to me is wholly HIS - I'm just housing it.
Understanding is the season that takes that rigid kick to the shin. Because when we are faced with situations where we want to scream at the top of our lungs, we surely aren't quick to soften our voices and understand the process. My children pick the most INCONVENIENT times to drop a #2. Right before a nap, right before overdue bedtime, on the soccer field, in carpool. Last night, Grayson decided he MUST take a crap while brushing his teeth before bed. Sure Gray, go ahead, get on the toilet. I go pee in the other bathroom upstairs because the 21 steps up is gonna do a number on my own bladder at this point. Only to come back to wailing brothers getting a kick out of a crying Grayson who happened to send his toothbrush swimming amidst the pile of shit. Somehow, I was a psychic at that moment, and knew what I was walking into before actually seeing the proof. I'm glad Briggs and Brannan thought it was so hilarious. I thought for a hot minute about attempting to just flush the toothbrush with the shit. But the pump failure of earlier this year brought me nightmares. So yeah - I dealt with it - reached in - threw it away - and washed my skin up to elbow about 3 times. Disgusting. I will never know why men get such a kick out of all things related to shit. Understanding - I need it. It's a season in this mama's life all too often.
3 nights a week, I come home so late that the boys are already sleeping. I can only walk up to their room, kiss their foreheads, say a prayer by myself, and go back downstairs to sleep. The other 4 nights, I try my best to make mama time as prayer time with the boys. No matter the struggles, I try my best to calm it down enough to pray with them. After an Our Father, one Hail Mary, and sometimes an Angel of God, I allow the boys to go one by one. Oldest to youngest. The prayers can range from thanking God for "my birthday party" to "mommy and daddy" to "daddy's tractor getting fixed" to "My tee tee is big" (Grayson....come on bro) I never know what will come out of their mouths. To hear BK3 pray tonight brought a season of HOPE. He said words that helped me see that he gets it. And maybe he's just repeating what he hears. Or maybe he's saying what he "thinks" is right. Or maybe his heart really is full of the love that's promised to us, and he's realizing it. I do not ask any questions; I just tell the boys thank you for praying with me. Kiss them goodnight, and back down to tackle that laundry list of to do's that I'm also learning just never end.
Today was actually a day of huge frustration where I told the boys that I was going to "take a day off as Mommy tomorrow" because they weren't saying thank you or appreciating the wonderful things their parents do for them. It was a true Monday no matter how hard I tried to flip the switch. From Grayson crawling into our bed at 2 am, to Briggs twirling his sock for 20 min this morning instead of getting dressed, to the missing Karate belt that I told the boys was their responsibility, to the extra flights of stairs I ran that I shouldn't have, to us being late everywhere we went. I told them that tomorrow's trick or treat would be canceled if they didn't make some big changes in the next 24 hours. Briggsy immediately burst out into "BUT EVERYBODY NEEDS A MOMMY!". And that was all I needed. To remember that these seasons of life sometimes all happen in one day: Trust, Hope, Understanding and Love. But it's up to us to seek it. They're all free gifts. So when we are tired, losing our hope, losing our patience, and losing our tempers, we must remember that our free gifts don't require a purchase. We must just take a deep breath, tell our heart to open back up a second, and let God take the reigns while we raise these humans to build a better world than we see today. Be grateful for the gifts. My gifts are being a wife. A mom. A sister, a daughter, a friend, and a teacher. How selfish of me not to be thankful? But then He forgives - so I breathe a huge sigh of relief and try again the next day. Seasons will come and go, but one thing remains the same - it's all part of a big plan that includes more joy than we could ever imagine. Even if that includes a tooth brush swimming in shit. I'll take it!
Thursday, June 15, 2017
One Our Father, Two Hail Marys and a Fart Gun
You never realize how important something is until you go without it. For the Webbs, it would be our sewer pump that launches the sewage to the street lines. When the tank fills and the pump has malfunctioned, you know what that means? It busts the sewage cap (it's metal by the way), and the week's flushings begin to drain into the yard. 2 Dogs, 3 Boys, 22 chickens, 2 cats, and a surprise shit pool in my grass. Lovely.
We had some awesome friends who reached out to help us that first week, and it surely made week two bearable. My parents' neighbor is a man of that "trade" and helped Brannan clean / drain it that first night. When I saw the Dinosaur Head puppet and handfuls of baby wipes that must've went for a ride down the chute, I assumed we had a winning solution. But we learned later, the pump had to be replaced and we were destined to use the bathroom outside for a hot minute. I'm sure my face proved my resistance to the idea. Hello! I'm a woman! I can't aim like y'all!
The next week involved minimal flushing, dirty dishes, less than average number of showers, rapid teeth brushing, and ZERO laundry. Thankfully, our mothers scooped up laundry and took care of that element. I learned that a messy house and dirty humans aren't such a big deal. And we were beyond excited to have the new pump installed today. I turned on my dishwasher, cleaned clothes, and allowed every boy the chance to flush the toilet after bathroom trips. I now love and appreciate that sewage pump.
The boys started their two weeks of day camp this week - YAHOO - at least for the older two. Camps don't take Grayson. Because of his age, you know. Although, perhaps his antics would get him kicked out anyways. So Gray got to ride solo with mama this week, as I launched into 12 hour days at the studio, full of workshops, guest teachers, young girls, older girls, phone calls, emails, and studio cleaning. I'd lock the front door during classes and set him free. Today was day 9 of Mommy & Grayson adventures and I was beat. He ran through my class of 11 year olds, pulled up his shirt to show his backside and said "I shake my butt!". Of course the talk I had with the girls about "just don't laugh at him, and we'll be good" didn't apply at that moment. We all giggled, and at that time, I knew my son would probably be the clown of the family from here on out. I always thank God for laughter in those moments.
Along with the glorious installation of the new sewage pump today, I enjoyed my first night to come home before 10 p.m. Thankful to cook dinner. Thankful to sit and watch the boys play (or really just fight constantly). Thankful to enjoy bath time. Thankful to snap a brother picture before bed. We got upstairs, began the teeth brushing, potty one last time, tuck me in, tuck me in again, tuck me in with the right blanket please, rituals. And then prayers. I asked BK3 to lead us in the prayer and he gave me a beautiful surprise "Angel of God" to start. My exhaustion melted a bit as I knew how lucky I was to share some prayers with my boys. And in true fashion, Grayson played his part. It went a little something like this:
We began, "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name....." PPPFFFTTT goes the fart gun in the hands of the grinning 2 year old. "Thy kingdom come...." PPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTT. "Thy will be done, on Earth".... PPPFFFTTT "as it is in heaven"..... the fart gun went off a few more times before ..."But deliver us from evil." Grayson delivered the "Amen." I held it together, eyeing Briggs and Brannan to make sure they too, could keep composure on one of my favorite times of the night. We moved right onto "Hail Mary, full of grace" When I felt a giant slap with somebody's underwear coming from behind me. "the Lord is with thee. Blessed art though among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus." I was now being assaulted by the same 2 year old with the underwear he was holding in his hand. I lost it. The loudest laughter before our prayers to Mary completed. We failed. But we won. People tell me every day to cherish these moments, and I doubt I'll forget that one. I believe it so much. The days pass so quickly. I can't keep up. I pray for time to stand still, despite Briggs asking me every day "Mommy when will you be 85?". "Not for a long time, Briggs, please let me enjoy 33." In an attempt to break the giggles, I allowed Briggs to pray first. He prayed some gibberish, which mainly sounded like the mayor of munchkin city, and we all smiled. Next was Grayson who patiently named every member of his family, followed by the word "Booty-head", then a resounding AMEN. Finally, Bk3 got his turn (he normally goes first, so I was surprised he waited without complaint). He made a few pleas for a good weekend, a good day at camp tomorrow, and for everyone to stay well. Then prayed that God would "get some help in ruling the world." My heart melted and broke all at the same time. I took the opportunity to help him understand that God is the God of the whole entire world. And that He's the best at His job. I'm not sure if that moment was for BK3 or for me. Each week brings its own adventures. I always try to keep a good perspective, but as humans, we can let it get the best of us. While I'm thankful for these extra flushes allowed now, I will forever be thankful for those gentle reminders of who is in control. I am even more thankful I could share it with my loves.
We had some awesome friends who reached out to help us that first week, and it surely made week two bearable. My parents' neighbor is a man of that "trade" and helped Brannan clean / drain it that first night. When I saw the Dinosaur Head puppet and handfuls of baby wipes that must've went for a ride down the chute, I assumed we had a winning solution. But we learned later, the pump had to be replaced and we were destined to use the bathroom outside for a hot minute. I'm sure my face proved my resistance to the idea. Hello! I'm a woman! I can't aim like y'all!
The next week involved minimal flushing, dirty dishes, less than average number of showers, rapid teeth brushing, and ZERO laundry. Thankfully, our mothers scooped up laundry and took care of that element. I learned that a messy house and dirty humans aren't such a big deal. And we were beyond excited to have the new pump installed today. I turned on my dishwasher, cleaned clothes, and allowed every boy the chance to flush the toilet after bathroom trips. I now love and appreciate that sewage pump.
The boys started their two weeks of day camp this week - YAHOO - at least for the older two. Camps don't take Grayson. Because of his age, you know. Although, perhaps his antics would get him kicked out anyways. So Gray got to ride solo with mama this week, as I launched into 12 hour days at the studio, full of workshops, guest teachers, young girls, older girls, phone calls, emails, and studio cleaning. I'd lock the front door during classes and set him free. Today was day 9 of Mommy & Grayson adventures and I was beat. He ran through my class of 11 year olds, pulled up his shirt to show his backside and said "I shake my butt!". Of course the talk I had with the girls about "just don't laugh at him, and we'll be good" didn't apply at that moment. We all giggled, and at that time, I knew my son would probably be the clown of the family from here on out. I always thank God for laughter in those moments.
Along with the glorious installation of the new sewage pump today, I enjoyed my first night to come home before 10 p.m. Thankful to cook dinner. Thankful to sit and watch the boys play (or really just fight constantly). Thankful to enjoy bath time. Thankful to snap a brother picture before bed. We got upstairs, began the teeth brushing, potty one last time, tuck me in, tuck me in again, tuck me in with the right blanket please, rituals. And then prayers. I asked BK3 to lead us in the prayer and he gave me a beautiful surprise "Angel of God" to start. My exhaustion melted a bit as I knew how lucky I was to share some prayers with my boys. And in true fashion, Grayson played his part. It went a little something like this:
We began, "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name....." PPPFFFTTT goes the fart gun in the hands of the grinning 2 year old. "Thy kingdom come...." PPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTT. "Thy will be done, on Earth".... PPPFFFTTT "as it is in heaven"..... the fart gun went off a few more times before ..."But deliver us from evil." Grayson delivered the "Amen." I held it together, eyeing Briggs and Brannan to make sure they too, could keep composure on one of my favorite times of the night. We moved right onto "Hail Mary, full of grace" When I felt a giant slap with somebody's underwear coming from behind me. "the Lord is with thee. Blessed art though among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus." I was now being assaulted by the same 2 year old with the underwear he was holding in his hand. I lost it. The loudest laughter before our prayers to Mary completed. We failed. But we won. People tell me every day to cherish these moments, and I doubt I'll forget that one. I believe it so much. The days pass so quickly. I can't keep up. I pray for time to stand still, despite Briggs asking me every day "Mommy when will you be 85?". "Not for a long time, Briggs, please let me enjoy 33." In an attempt to break the giggles, I allowed Briggs to pray first. He prayed some gibberish, which mainly sounded like the mayor of munchkin city, and we all smiled. Next was Grayson who patiently named every member of his family, followed by the word "Booty-head", then a resounding AMEN. Finally, Bk3 got his turn (he normally goes first, so I was surprised he waited without complaint). He made a few pleas for a good weekend, a good day at camp tomorrow, and for everyone to stay well. Then prayed that God would "get some help in ruling the world." My heart melted and broke all at the same time. I took the opportunity to help him understand that God is the God of the whole entire world. And that He's the best at His job. I'm not sure if that moment was for BK3 or for me. Each week brings its own adventures. I always try to keep a good perspective, but as humans, we can let it get the best of us. While I'm thankful for these extra flushes allowed now, I will forever be thankful for those gentle reminders of who is in control. I am even more thankful I could share it with my loves.
Friday, May 5, 2017
All With One Click...
The boys each got a Kindle for Christmas. Daddy felt like it was a good idea for them to have a device of their own to play their games on and watch PBS kids every now and then. So I went with it. I'm not sure I had a choice though...when Daddy gets his mind set on something, I usually get greeted by it at the doorstep. Kind of like the jump house. And the water slide. And the jumbo size uterus...remember that thing? They've been helpful for the most part, especially with Bk3 working on reading skills... Brannan, from the get go, stressed that there never be a credit card on the devices, so we were set. Until the movie "Sing" on blu-ray showed up. We thought for a week on when we might've ordered it. We both checked our email accounts and amazon accounts. We couldn't find the purchase. We attributed it to some good luck - until Star Wars showed up. B opened the package, out jumps the Force and we both look at eachother after 10 seconds of a pause - "Briggsy". The kid is obsessed. LP Library has issued ALL 14 of their Star Wars books to the Webbs, more specifically Briggs in the last 2 months. Star Wars A-Z, Good Night Darth Vader, to name his favorites - he sleeps with a light saber and constantly quizzes ALL OF US on the names of each character. We don't want to break his heart and tell him that neither of us have EVER seen the movies. But we definitely already have our costumes planned for his October birthday set to that very theme. Needless to say, B had set up the Kindles with emails for each of the boys...so once we found all of the purchase confirmations (10 or so to be exact), we figured out which Kindle did the one-click ordering and tossed that one into hiding until we get all of our refunds. I laughed. It could've been way worse...just 2 dvds and a handful of apps! It was my credit card entered, I assume from when I purchased him the app that his Kindergarten teachers have them use. Apparently, you just hit BUY and there you go. One Click, and they have your money.
One click of the toilet flushing is music to my ears currently. We've got Grayson on a big push to help the Webbs discontinue the diaper madness. 6 years. We might could own stock in Pampers right now. We are surely trying. But Gray has his own timing. And although I made a huge effort at the start of the Easter break, we were so graciously greeted by the stomach bug instead! So we are still trekking, and thankful he hasn't requested "Mommy, just go and get me a diaper" recently. He's the third boy to make the man-jump to underwear and the FIRST to be fascinated (at age 2) with the size of his peepee when he sits on the toilet. Really Gray? I am surely a mom of boys.
B's new project is growing things. And they have to grow inside enough before he can put them in the ground. He's worked hard on them every morning and night, but I think it's a little odd that we have a neon purple light coming from our dining room window at night. Rave anyone? I promise it's nothing illegal.
All THREE boys are pushing as many limits as possible with regards to talking back. I know, Karma is a bitch - It's true. But it pushes me as a mama. Monday morning, Grayson continually fussed at the table and I pointed my finger to him saying "you need to hush your mouth and eat!". To which he pointed his tiny 2 year old hand back at me and said "No you need to hush YOU mouth!" I'm sure I turned a few shades of red at that point. I knew it was do or die. "Carrie, march yourself straight over to him and make sure he knows that's not ok, Gray." Do it...or you might have a "cash me ousside" 7 year old within a few years. I marched. He learned. His rebound time is pretty quick though. We're also working on that...
For Lent, I gave up wine during the week. I'm not sure what I was thinking. But I can successfully say I made it. I also promised myself 3 days a week in the adoration chapel at our church. Just for reflection, prayer, peace, anything. And THAT was the best Lenten promise I've ever made. I felt uneasy at first, but I quickly understood just what was happening. God was teaching me to pause. He was teaching me to reflect on the positives. To pray for the negatives. To ask for help when I felt I didn't measure up. To notice the reminder that I am enough. I had grabbed a devotional handed out at the Ash Wednesday service from the prior year, and I brought it with me to the chapel. The readings, along with the time of reflection and prayer, rejuvenated my faith journey. Just like one click - and bam, I was right back in. It reminds me of how distracting this life can be. But if we focus on what is important to us, our worlds can be complete. I worry less. I trust more. I trusted Brannan even after I came home to 6 new baby chicks 3 weeks ago. I think that knocks it up to 22.
I've kept the adoration commitment. I've kicked the wine limits... Who needs wine limits? Cheers to all of you mamas out there - now go check on that "one-click buying" option for me so the Force doesn't show up at your doorstep - or anything else for that matter!
One click of the toilet flushing is music to my ears currently. We've got Grayson on a big push to help the Webbs discontinue the diaper madness. 6 years. We might could own stock in Pampers right now. We are surely trying. But Gray has his own timing. And although I made a huge effort at the start of the Easter break, we were so graciously greeted by the stomach bug instead! So we are still trekking, and thankful he hasn't requested "Mommy, just go and get me a diaper" recently. He's the third boy to make the man-jump to underwear and the FIRST to be fascinated (at age 2) with the size of his peepee when he sits on the toilet. Really Gray? I am surely a mom of boys.
B's new project is growing things. And they have to grow inside enough before he can put them in the ground. He's worked hard on them every morning and night, but I think it's a little odd that we have a neon purple light coming from our dining room window at night. Rave anyone? I promise it's nothing illegal.
All THREE boys are pushing as many limits as possible with regards to talking back. I know, Karma is a bitch - It's true. But it pushes me as a mama. Monday morning, Grayson continually fussed at the table and I pointed my finger to him saying "you need to hush your mouth and eat!". To which he pointed his tiny 2 year old hand back at me and said "No you need to hush YOU mouth!" I'm sure I turned a few shades of red at that point. I knew it was do or die. "Carrie, march yourself straight over to him and make sure he knows that's not ok, Gray." Do it...or you might have a "cash me ousside" 7 year old within a few years. I marched. He learned. His rebound time is pretty quick though. We're also working on that...
For Lent, I gave up wine during the week. I'm not sure what I was thinking. But I can successfully say I made it. I also promised myself 3 days a week in the adoration chapel at our church. Just for reflection, prayer, peace, anything. And THAT was the best Lenten promise I've ever made. I felt uneasy at first, but I quickly understood just what was happening. God was teaching me to pause. He was teaching me to reflect on the positives. To pray for the negatives. To ask for help when I felt I didn't measure up. To notice the reminder that I am enough. I had grabbed a devotional handed out at the Ash Wednesday service from the prior year, and I brought it with me to the chapel. The readings, along with the time of reflection and prayer, rejuvenated my faith journey. Just like one click - and bam, I was right back in. It reminds me of how distracting this life can be. But if we focus on what is important to us, our worlds can be complete. I worry less. I trust more. I trusted Brannan even after I came home to 6 new baby chicks 3 weeks ago. I think that knocks it up to 22.
I've kept the adoration commitment. I've kicked the wine limits... Who needs wine limits? Cheers to all of you mamas out there - now go check on that "one-click buying" option for me so the Force doesn't show up at your doorstep - or anything else for that matter!
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Build Me Back
As I have driven around our city these past few weeks, I am faced with the harsh reality of buildings completely being demolished - one by one, a new one is gone each day. A slab remains, in the middle of a neighborhood full of houses. Next door, a home is "for sale by owner", stripped to nothing. Others are masked with FEMA trailers in front. Some are home to an RV in the driveway.
My heart was ripped open one morning as I passed a house, fully gutted, but not yet cleaned up. The for sale sign in front had a tag-line on top saying "Build Me Back". As if it were making a plea to anyone who would notice - build me back, so I can be wonderful again.
It's November. School started in August - yes, the flood worked a number on everybody's 2016, but we have made adjustments. And as blessed as we are to remain in our home, we have done our best to get into new routines and stick to it. 3 Months in, and I barely feel like I can get a grasp on this new "schedule." Bk3 starting Kindergarten goes down in the books as a whirlwind, schedule changing, sleep stealing adjustment for this mama here, and each day is a new adventure. I'm learning that this here, is the new norm. Buckle up, ready or not! Right?
I cut a few hours off of my weekly class schedule in the evenings, in order to open up a little bit more time with the boys after school. I'm thankful to be able to ask Bk3 "How was your day today?" on Mondays & Tuesdays, check his folder, and smile with excitement when he shows me the things he worked on those days. Wednesdays & Thursdays, I drop him off at morning carpool, and since I don't get home until 10 p.m. those nights, I won't see him again until the next morning. The days seem like rat races, starting with 5:30 am alarms, packing lunches, getting everyone to wake up, eat, get dressed, packed up, off to school, back home to clean, do dishes, cook dinner (at 10 am), do office work, manage animals, laundry, house chores, groceries, more dishes, prepare class material, emails, carpools, drop kids with the sitter, and then off to work trying to hold my eyes open - knowing I now get to be mama to a whole new animal, GIRLS. I slowly climb up the stairs at 10 p.m., eat, do MORE dishes, prepare the coffee pot, enjoy a glass of wine (if I'm lucky) and go to bed by 11:00 (again, if I'm lucky).
I pray more than ever. The time in the day ticks away, and as I count task after task off the list, I notice how adding new tasks (even if only in my mind) builds the anxiety level to no end. Impatience takes over, and all it takes is Briggs saying "you're being a mean mommy!" to make me go off and immediately regret the stress filled rant on a 4 year old. I take a second, and think "God, please build me back." The great thing is, no matter how many times you ask, He does.
Tuesday morning, at 7:10, like always, I told the boys to head downstairs and I'd be down in a few minutes. Yes, a lot can happen in a few minutes at the Webb house when it involves the boys going downstairs unsupervised. We can go ahead and check off escapes to the barn, peeing ourselves, fist fights over which car door we'll open, and Grayson successfully starting my car and putting it into reverse from the list of various crazy moments. This particular morning, I realized the chicken coop door was left open. So I got downstairs to 17 chickens, 3 boys mowing through chicken & dog shit, the two dogs, all parading together in the yard, like Nola Mardi Gras 2017. We were already 1 minute behind schedule, and I knew it was best for me to then surrender. Thankfully, I got everyone into the car, and through each respective carpool line on time that day. Of course though, not without Grayson dumping out his entire bowl of frosted flakes in his lap before the car door was opened for him to get on with his day. God so graciously gave me the gift of laughter at that moment...and boy am I thankful. I am thankful for that very same night, after getting home at 8:30 (my early night), Grayson says "rock rock mama" as I'm putting him to bed. And did I pass up that opportunity? No indeed. Brannan came in and asked my why I haven't eaten yet - and my only answer was that "my baby asked me to rock him...and that, I will do."
I pray. I pray. I pray. I pray for more deep breaths. I pray for more moments that I cherish with my sweet boys. I pray that BK3 doesn't have to say "Mama, I want to spend more time with you." as he and I both adjust to this new all-day school life. I pray for more moments where God so graciously steps in and says "Open your eyes, Carrie! Life is right now. Don't worry about what is in store next!" I can firmly agree that it must be great - what He has planned for us all. I trust, because He makes this path for me. With it's twists and turns. With the happiness and tears. With the nights ending with me saying "God, please build me back." With the mornings where I feel like a superwoman who can conquer the world, because while I slept, HE did just that. He builds me back to conquer each day. He builds me back to share with others just what that means...God is here, inside us, and never letting go. Just like someone will see beauty in that empty, stripped down, damaged, battered home. Just like someone will come in and build it back to perfection, God sees us in all the beauty we can be. The wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, and teacher that I am. Even with the long days, stressful rants, temper-losing moments, rounding up chickens, rounding up children, rounding up dancers, rounding up life...God builds me back. For that, I am forever grateful.
My heart was ripped open one morning as I passed a house, fully gutted, but not yet cleaned up. The for sale sign in front had a tag-line on top saying "Build Me Back". As if it were making a plea to anyone who would notice - build me back, so I can be wonderful again.
It's November. School started in August - yes, the flood worked a number on everybody's 2016, but we have made adjustments. And as blessed as we are to remain in our home, we have done our best to get into new routines and stick to it. 3 Months in, and I barely feel like I can get a grasp on this new "schedule." Bk3 starting Kindergarten goes down in the books as a whirlwind, schedule changing, sleep stealing adjustment for this mama here, and each day is a new adventure. I'm learning that this here, is the new norm. Buckle up, ready or not! Right?
I cut a few hours off of my weekly class schedule in the evenings, in order to open up a little bit more time with the boys after school. I'm thankful to be able to ask Bk3 "How was your day today?" on Mondays & Tuesdays, check his folder, and smile with excitement when he shows me the things he worked on those days. Wednesdays & Thursdays, I drop him off at morning carpool, and since I don't get home until 10 p.m. those nights, I won't see him again until the next morning. The days seem like rat races, starting with 5:30 am alarms, packing lunches, getting everyone to wake up, eat, get dressed, packed up, off to school, back home to clean, do dishes, cook dinner (at 10 am), do office work, manage animals, laundry, house chores, groceries, more dishes, prepare class material, emails, carpools, drop kids with the sitter, and then off to work trying to hold my eyes open - knowing I now get to be mama to a whole new animal, GIRLS. I slowly climb up the stairs at 10 p.m., eat, do MORE dishes, prepare the coffee pot, enjoy a glass of wine (if I'm lucky) and go to bed by 11:00 (again, if I'm lucky).
I pray more than ever. The time in the day ticks away, and as I count task after task off the list, I notice how adding new tasks (even if only in my mind) builds the anxiety level to no end. Impatience takes over, and all it takes is Briggs saying "you're being a mean mommy!" to make me go off and immediately regret the stress filled rant on a 4 year old. I take a second, and think "God, please build me back." The great thing is, no matter how many times you ask, He does.
Tuesday morning, at 7:10, like always, I told the boys to head downstairs and I'd be down in a few minutes. Yes, a lot can happen in a few minutes at the Webb house when it involves the boys going downstairs unsupervised. We can go ahead and check off escapes to the barn, peeing ourselves, fist fights over which car door we'll open, and Grayson successfully starting my car and putting it into reverse from the list of various crazy moments. This particular morning, I realized the chicken coop door was left open. So I got downstairs to 17 chickens, 3 boys mowing through chicken & dog shit, the two dogs, all parading together in the yard, like Nola Mardi Gras 2017. We were already 1 minute behind schedule, and I knew it was best for me to then surrender. Thankfully, I got everyone into the car, and through each respective carpool line on time that day. Of course though, not without Grayson dumping out his entire bowl of frosted flakes in his lap before the car door was opened for him to get on with his day. God so graciously gave me the gift of laughter at that moment...and boy am I thankful. I am thankful for that very same night, after getting home at 8:30 (my early night), Grayson says "rock rock mama" as I'm putting him to bed. And did I pass up that opportunity? No indeed. Brannan came in and asked my why I haven't eaten yet - and my only answer was that "my baby asked me to rock him...and that, I will do."
I pray. I pray. I pray. I pray for more deep breaths. I pray for more moments that I cherish with my sweet boys. I pray that BK3 doesn't have to say "Mama, I want to spend more time with you." as he and I both adjust to this new all-day school life. I pray for more moments where God so graciously steps in and says "Open your eyes, Carrie! Life is right now. Don't worry about what is in store next!" I can firmly agree that it must be great - what He has planned for us all. I trust, because He makes this path for me. With it's twists and turns. With the happiness and tears. With the nights ending with me saying "God, please build me back." With the mornings where I feel like a superwoman who can conquer the world, because while I slept, HE did just that. He builds me back to conquer each day. He builds me back to share with others just what that means...God is here, inside us, and never letting go. Just like someone will see beauty in that empty, stripped down, damaged, battered home. Just like someone will come in and build it back to perfection, God sees us in all the beauty we can be. The wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, and teacher that I am. Even with the long days, stressful rants, temper-losing moments, rounding up chickens, rounding up children, rounding up dancers, rounding up life...God builds me back. For that, I am forever grateful.
Monday, August 29, 2016
Down to the studs...
Everyone has their own version of the story for the weekend of August 13th. The weekend that changed many of our lives. The weekend that brought one home after another down to the studs at its core. And everyone's stories are true. We knew rain was coming, but we had no idea just how much. And exactly what it would do. Brannan and I built our home during the year of 2012. The largest water level this city had seen to date was 41.5 feet in 1983. The engineers guided us and told us that the flood plane was 45.0 But it had been 30+ years since a flood of that measure had broken into our city. I remember the steel manufacturer asking us how high we wanted our beams, and Brannan (for whatever reason) said "put our house at 46.5...let's be 1 1/2 feet higher than the flood plane." That decision saved the inside of our home.
The rains came and by Friday morning, schools canceled, flood advisories were out, and the Amite river stage grid showed us reaching records within 48 hours. We took the entire day to empty the barn, empty the space beneath our home, move the chickens, and watch the water creep closer and closer by the hour. By noon, my parents home had flooded, not by the river, but by the amount of rainfall that measured in such a short time. Backflow is what they call it. Or something like that. All I know is that an entire community north of I-12, not in a flood zone, flooded before any of us living on the river did. All due to the amount of rain that fell in record timing. Friday was their day. Their homes are down to the studs.
The grids showed the river being at 39 feet by daylight Saturday morning. A measure that we knew was easy enough for us to boat out in our pirogue, to a vehicle we'd park near Florida blvd, and get out for good until the waters receded. We packed our bags and went to sleep. I woke at 5 a.m. and checked the grid before looking outside. Within 5 hours, the water level changed drastically from the projected amount. B took the boat out to check on his truck parked on higher ground. We had lost it. The water was already 41 feet by 5:30 a.m., and it flowed with a current that proved to me it was already crossing a main highway through our city. It was too late for us to boat out. At that point, we had to wait, like all others, for better, stronger boats to come to our rescue. I wasn't afraid of the water level (it still had 6 feet until it would enter our home), I was afraid that our steel beams would give way into the then 12 feet deep waters flowing beneath us. I tried so hard to hide my fear from my boys. They were fascinated that we were surrounded by water. I let it be. We put them in puddle jumpers and life jackets and I made them play with blocks by the front door. I knew that if I felt the house sway, I'd run, and we'd swim. Not that it would have even worked. We all know my swimming skills suck, and I didn't have a life jacket. Within 2 1/2 hours, Brannan's dad and a good friend had gotten to us. I had already cried 4 or 5 times that morning, but at that point, I was so thankful to leave my home. They couldn't take us all, so Brannan stayed back. The three boys, myself, Mr Blayne and Colt headed out. At that point, I saw Florida blvd and all of it's buildings under water. Water was white capping across the highway. People were walking in chest deep water from their homes on side streets up to Florida. Carrying baskets full of items, or children, or pets, even newborn babies. Our plan was to make it to the law firm at Florida and Range. But the boat couldn't take us anymore, since the motor was hitting the pavement. We had to walk. Rain came down, current crossing shin deep over me, barefoot, clinging to Grayson while Mr. Blayne held the hands of Briggs and BK3 - both of which thought this was quite and adventure. For that, I'm thankful.
We walked until we couldn't walk any further due to the water levels. We waited for an army vehicle to come toward us, but instead got into the back of a stranger's 4x4 lifted red Ford Truck, who was also rescuing relatives off of Florida. They didn't even question the space. They just said "get on in.". I cried again. At that point, I began to realize that it didn't matter what was going to happen with that water entering my home. My boys were safe. My husband would soon be safe too. And I didn't give a damn about anything else. That truck drove all of us through the deep waters and fast current to the higher area of Florida and Range. We had made it to the law firm where we met up with Brannan's mom, sister and her boyfriend. I learned at that point that the projected had raised to 46. I knew then, it would probably enter our home. But again, I was too thankful to be alive at that point.
The next few days were a blur. Our day was Saturday. My parents had evacuated to my Aunt's home south of I-12, and it flooded Saturday night/Sunday morning. Sunday was their day, again. Other communities flooded days following due to all kinds of conditions that again, were unprecedented; unheard of. All the while, AT&T towers had malfunctioned and no one could get in touch with anyone. No communication. People stuck in their attics, stuck on second floors, stuck on roof tops, stuck on the interstate trying to leave, stuck in walmart parking lots, stuck at the highest ground they could find, and surrounded by water. Sunday was their day. We worried about our family members, our friends, our new places of shelter, our next few weeks and months. Social media was our only chance to find out any information as the national media could have cared less. And that's ok...now.
It's ok because strangers got in their own boats. Strangers opened their homes. Strangers opened their arms and their hearts to one another and said "get on in." People helping people because that's what we are here to do. When the going gets tough, the people here come tougher, and for one another. That's the truth. As nature has it, the water has gone down. The homes are destroyed. Memories, belongings, keepsakes - destroyed. Down to the studs. As a people, united, we are down to the studs. God has everyone displayed that way. Down to the root of what is important. Shaving away at the excessive wants and desires that now lie at the curb, water logged, waiting to be tossed to a landfill. Down to the studs. I am proud to be a part of this community of Denham Springs. A community of brave individuals who love above all else in a time of disaster. Surely, we can all look for the negative. But all I see is a community of fighters and believers, down to the studs, ready to build back up again. And this time, with bigger hearts - bandaged by the love shown from others - beating with a strong trust that God is with us, for us, and will never leave us. He is helping everyone pick up those pieces that are left. To build an even better life - from these studs, who will remain a part of the old and the new. Pray for our community. For those who's day was Friday, or Saturday, or Sunday. Or any day. Pray for the hearts, down to the studs.
The rains came and by Friday morning, schools canceled, flood advisories were out, and the Amite river stage grid showed us reaching records within 48 hours. We took the entire day to empty the barn, empty the space beneath our home, move the chickens, and watch the water creep closer and closer by the hour. By noon, my parents home had flooded, not by the river, but by the amount of rainfall that measured in such a short time. Backflow is what they call it. Or something like that. All I know is that an entire community north of I-12, not in a flood zone, flooded before any of us living on the river did. All due to the amount of rain that fell in record timing. Friday was their day. Their homes are down to the studs.
The grids showed the river being at 39 feet by daylight Saturday morning. A measure that we knew was easy enough for us to boat out in our pirogue, to a vehicle we'd park near Florida blvd, and get out for good until the waters receded. We packed our bags and went to sleep. I woke at 5 a.m. and checked the grid before looking outside. Within 5 hours, the water level changed drastically from the projected amount. B took the boat out to check on his truck parked on higher ground. We had lost it. The water was already 41 feet by 5:30 a.m., and it flowed with a current that proved to me it was already crossing a main highway through our city. It was too late for us to boat out. At that point, we had to wait, like all others, for better, stronger boats to come to our rescue. I wasn't afraid of the water level (it still had 6 feet until it would enter our home), I was afraid that our steel beams would give way into the then 12 feet deep waters flowing beneath us. I tried so hard to hide my fear from my boys. They were fascinated that we were surrounded by water. I let it be. We put them in puddle jumpers and life jackets and I made them play with blocks by the front door. I knew that if I felt the house sway, I'd run, and we'd swim. Not that it would have even worked. We all know my swimming skills suck, and I didn't have a life jacket. Within 2 1/2 hours, Brannan's dad and a good friend had gotten to us. I had already cried 4 or 5 times that morning, but at that point, I was so thankful to leave my home. They couldn't take us all, so Brannan stayed back. The three boys, myself, Mr Blayne and Colt headed out. At that point, I saw Florida blvd and all of it's buildings under water. Water was white capping across the highway. People were walking in chest deep water from their homes on side streets up to Florida. Carrying baskets full of items, or children, or pets, even newborn babies. Our plan was to make it to the law firm at Florida and Range. But the boat couldn't take us anymore, since the motor was hitting the pavement. We had to walk. Rain came down, current crossing shin deep over me, barefoot, clinging to Grayson while Mr. Blayne held the hands of Briggs and BK3 - both of which thought this was quite and adventure. For that, I'm thankful.
We walked until we couldn't walk any further due to the water levels. We waited for an army vehicle to come toward us, but instead got into the back of a stranger's 4x4 lifted red Ford Truck, who was also rescuing relatives off of Florida. They didn't even question the space. They just said "get on in.". I cried again. At that point, I began to realize that it didn't matter what was going to happen with that water entering my home. My boys were safe. My husband would soon be safe too. And I didn't give a damn about anything else. That truck drove all of us through the deep waters and fast current to the higher area of Florida and Range. We had made it to the law firm where we met up with Brannan's mom, sister and her boyfriend. I learned at that point that the projected had raised to 46. I knew then, it would probably enter our home. But again, I was too thankful to be alive at that point.
The next few days were a blur. Our day was Saturday. My parents had evacuated to my Aunt's home south of I-12, and it flooded Saturday night/Sunday morning. Sunday was their day, again. Other communities flooded days following due to all kinds of conditions that again, were unprecedented; unheard of. All the while, AT&T towers had malfunctioned and no one could get in touch with anyone. No communication. People stuck in their attics, stuck on second floors, stuck on roof tops, stuck on the interstate trying to leave, stuck in walmart parking lots, stuck at the highest ground they could find, and surrounded by water. Sunday was their day. We worried about our family members, our friends, our new places of shelter, our next few weeks and months. Social media was our only chance to find out any information as the national media could have cared less. And that's ok...now.
It's ok because strangers got in their own boats. Strangers opened their homes. Strangers opened their arms and their hearts to one another and said "get on in." People helping people because that's what we are here to do. When the going gets tough, the people here come tougher, and for one another. That's the truth. As nature has it, the water has gone down. The homes are destroyed. Memories, belongings, keepsakes - destroyed. Down to the studs. As a people, united, we are down to the studs. God has everyone displayed that way. Down to the root of what is important. Shaving away at the excessive wants and desires that now lie at the curb, water logged, waiting to be tossed to a landfill. Down to the studs. I am proud to be a part of this community of Denham Springs. A community of brave individuals who love above all else in a time of disaster. Surely, we can all look for the negative. But all I see is a community of fighters and believers, down to the studs, ready to build back up again. And this time, with bigger hearts - bandaged by the love shown from others - beating with a strong trust that God is with us, for us, and will never leave us. He is helping everyone pick up those pieces that are left. To build an even better life - from these studs, who will remain a part of the old and the new. Pray for our community. For those who's day was Friday, or Saturday, or Sunday. Or any day. Pray for the hearts, down to the studs.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
4 Stores and a 1 1/2 year old.
It's been six months since I last documented these funny life stories. There are many moments throughout a day when I say "I have to take note of this..." but then, I'm so tired that the only thing I want is for my head to hit the pillow. Today though. I make time.
I was a bit late to the game and waited until last night to call for an early bed time in order to get ready for this wave of re-awakening with school starting. I've been in my 9 a.m. carpool bubble for 3 years now, and this 7:25 a.m. thing is probably what is giving me the most anxiety. I asked B to get the boys to bed early, in hopes of me getting ALL OF US up early this morning to practice. Practice. Yeah...
I can't remember at what point Grayson crawled into my side of the bed, but I know it was before 3 a.m. I woke up around 3:45 dreaming of snakes, and was pushed out of the bed by the 1 1/2 year old. Sweating. Knowing the 5:30 attempt to open my eyes for good was going to be rough, I let that snooze happen until 6:30. Hey, I tried. Ran into the shower, with Grayson crying at the shower door...not sure why, except he just was pissed that I left him in bed with Daddy. One day, I'll be dragging him out of bed...but now. No. He robs me of the quiet morning coffee during the 6 o'clock hour EVERY DAY. Got out of the shower, greeted by the eager BK3 who already had his clothes in hand asking if it were time to practice. He is me made over. Karma. So that went well, even though it was an hour behind schedule.
After a few demands, "MAMA, LECHE!", "Mama aren't you glad, I didn't pee in the bed?!!", "Mama, when am I going to meet MY teacher?", "Mama, does Daddy go to work today?", the boys love to go out on the back porch and feed the cats/Roxie every morning. It had only made it to around 7:05 a.m. and I was making lunches, trying to pour coffee (thanking God it was at least still hot), and daddy B says "Hey, I haven't seen Gray's head bopping around on the back porch in the last few minutes..." Me. Panic. It's way too quiet. After a few minutes of frantic yelling for a toddler that isn't going to respond anyways... I figured I'd go look downstairs outside. Yep. He actually hollered back to me after I called outside "Yeh Mommy!"...it was WAY too far away. And sure enough, the little rascal had gone down 21 stairs, somehow dodged numerous piles of chicken shit, trekked through the back yard to the tractor shed about 50 feet behind the house, climbed up on the tractor (it's a big tractor), and was seated in the driver's seat. The cat had followed him out there to chill too... He was TOO proud. And I was relieved. "Oh, he's just on the tractor." I promise I don't neglect my kids.
Right after breakfast, I began packing BK3's booksack for tomorrow's Kindergarten start. I suddenly realized that I had only bought 2 pair of navy shorts. 2 pair in size 5, and 2 pair in size 6, just to see what fit. Then forgot that I didn't actually buy the other 3 pair of what I'd need in order to dodge laundry 3 times a week. So I threw the kids in the car (not really, even though they probably would've thought it was fun) and decided we could easily find this in Denham. Not. We went to 4 stores. And it wasn't until store 2 that I realized I hadn't brought a stroller. Genius, Carrie.
Store 1: Old Navy.
Briggs stole the limelight here. While Grayson was fighting me to put his feet into the cart's seat, I turn around to see Briggs RIDING the dog mannequin. RIDING IT. I yell BRIGGS! GET OFF THE DOG! (why does Old Navy have a dog mannequin?) and in the exact same second thank GOD for the mannequin not crushing under his 40+ 3 year old self. He responds "Why? I was just trying to be a cowboy." Cool Briggs. No navy shorts there.
Store 2: Kohls
There's a cart here too. Thankfully. But no shorts. But there was a rack of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle memorabilia that Briggs told the entire store he needed for his birthday.
Store 3. Belk
No cart. That's when I realized I needed to eat my wheaties for breakfast. After a few threats of telling the boys to stay near me, ask Bk3 to hold my purse since I had the giant toddler, and making Briggs promise to "walk up", we entered the automatic doors, which BK3 stared at for 30 extra second thinking they were magical. I hauled to the back corner of the store, where I immediately scanned and saw no navy shorts. The super nice older lady who worked there said "Oh! I'll watch him while you look for shorts".... Yeah right, watch Grayson? Sure enough I set him down, and he ran, like Usain Bolt in the mens 100m, setting out a devised route that he had been working on since we walked into the store. The lady looked at me like HE was the crazy one... come on woman. It's written all over him, and every other 1 1/2 year old who graces the department store with his or her presence. Briggs and Brannan got a huge kick out of his lightening speed and ran after him, shouting every audible you can imagine. Now, it's become a game. I then bolted, told the lady thank you, and met them two sections over, where Bk3 was hanging onto Grayson's shirt neckline like he had just roped cattle. Grayson squealing. As I grabbed G like a football under my arm (when he throws a tantrum, you have to keep his limbs away from your face), I looked at the other two and my eyes told them to make a b-line for the door. Bk3 ran in front of me and the screaming toddler, screaming sounds like a race car, while I look back to see Briggs trying to "not step on any cracks." Now, if you know Briggs and how slow he is anyways, you can imagine how slow he is avoiding cracks. Again, we got in the car, buckled, and I just could only think about how thankful I was that I didn't pee on myself...I had 2 cups of coffee this morning.
Store 4. Stage
There was a cart. Thankfully. I asked the first person I saw if they had navy shorts and she was smart. She took one look at me with my 3 boys and didn't waste my time. NO NAVY SHORTS. Ok cool! Do you have a bathroom? Cause I still have to pee. Thanks! 3 boys in a large stall in the womens' bathroom will finish out that day for ya real quick.
Store 5. Walgreens, but not looking for shorts.
At this point, I think the boys could understand the fumes radiating off of their mama. My tone was calm (surprisingly), and they behaved. We were checking out, and a kind man with an LSU shirt, around 75, walked in. He stood and waited inside near the door until I gathered my three from the checkout and headed out. He said "Ma'am are ALL THESE BOYS yours?" to which I said "Yessir, they're all mine" He responds with "you sure are blessed with these fine young men you have."
To which I took a deep breath, smiled, and all of the chaos of the 4 previous stores blew on away. He's right and as I buckled everyone in their seats soon after, I could only be thankful for him. He was sent right there in that very moment to remind me how beautiful these tiny chaotic moments prove to be. I think that those signs of thanksgiving are graciously thrown at us everywhere. Surely, we don't always notice them. Especially nowadays, when we are preoccupied with everything imaginable. I was content in the no-find Navy shorts that I'll tackle again tomorrow, in Baton Rouge this time. And for the rest of the day, thought often of that nice man who helped me see the light in that quick minute!
We start Kindergarten tomorrow. BK3 is more than excited to eat in the cafeteria, and that helps me to calm down a bit. Going to bed thankful tonight for the many men and women who love my boys. The many who serve and will serve as their teachers in the coming years. My heart is full, knowing that there are special people on this Earth who they will admire and learn from, as they grow into young men themselves. Or cowboys, as Briggs chose today.
I was a bit late to the game and waited until last night to call for an early bed time in order to get ready for this wave of re-awakening with school starting. I've been in my 9 a.m. carpool bubble for 3 years now, and this 7:25 a.m. thing is probably what is giving me the most anxiety. I asked B to get the boys to bed early, in hopes of me getting ALL OF US up early this morning to practice. Practice. Yeah...
I can't remember at what point Grayson crawled into my side of the bed, but I know it was before 3 a.m. I woke up around 3:45 dreaming of snakes, and was pushed out of the bed by the 1 1/2 year old. Sweating. Knowing the 5:30 attempt to open my eyes for good was going to be rough, I let that snooze happen until 6:30. Hey, I tried. Ran into the shower, with Grayson crying at the shower door...not sure why, except he just was pissed that I left him in bed with Daddy. One day, I'll be dragging him out of bed...but now. No. He robs me of the quiet morning coffee during the 6 o'clock hour EVERY DAY. Got out of the shower, greeted by the eager BK3 who already had his clothes in hand asking if it were time to practice. He is me made over. Karma. So that went well, even though it was an hour behind schedule.
After a few demands, "MAMA, LECHE!", "Mama aren't you glad, I didn't pee in the bed?!!", "Mama, when am I going to meet MY teacher?", "Mama, does Daddy go to work today?", the boys love to go out on the back porch and feed the cats/Roxie every morning. It had only made it to around 7:05 a.m. and I was making lunches, trying to pour coffee (thanking God it was at least still hot), and daddy B says "Hey, I haven't seen Gray's head bopping around on the back porch in the last few minutes..." Me. Panic. It's way too quiet. After a few minutes of frantic yelling for a toddler that isn't going to respond anyways... I figured I'd go look downstairs outside. Yep. He actually hollered back to me after I called outside "Yeh Mommy!"...it was WAY too far away. And sure enough, the little rascal had gone down 21 stairs, somehow dodged numerous piles of chicken shit, trekked through the back yard to the tractor shed about 50 feet behind the house, climbed up on the tractor (it's a big tractor), and was seated in the driver's seat. The cat had followed him out there to chill too... He was TOO proud. And I was relieved. "Oh, he's just on the tractor." I promise I don't neglect my kids.
Right after breakfast, I began packing BK3's booksack for tomorrow's Kindergarten start. I suddenly realized that I had only bought 2 pair of navy shorts. 2 pair in size 5, and 2 pair in size 6, just to see what fit. Then forgot that I didn't actually buy the other 3 pair of what I'd need in order to dodge laundry 3 times a week. So I threw the kids in the car (not really, even though they probably would've thought it was fun) and decided we could easily find this in Denham. Not. We went to 4 stores. And it wasn't until store 2 that I realized I hadn't brought a stroller. Genius, Carrie.
Store 1: Old Navy.
Briggs stole the limelight here. While Grayson was fighting me to put his feet into the cart's seat, I turn around to see Briggs RIDING the dog mannequin. RIDING IT. I yell BRIGGS! GET OFF THE DOG! (why does Old Navy have a dog mannequin?) and in the exact same second thank GOD for the mannequin not crushing under his 40+ 3 year old self. He responds "Why? I was just trying to be a cowboy." Cool Briggs. No navy shorts there.
Store 2: Kohls
There's a cart here too. Thankfully. But no shorts. But there was a rack of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle memorabilia that Briggs told the entire store he needed for his birthday.
Store 3. Belk
No cart. That's when I realized I needed to eat my wheaties for breakfast. After a few threats of telling the boys to stay near me, ask Bk3 to hold my purse since I had the giant toddler, and making Briggs promise to "walk up", we entered the automatic doors, which BK3 stared at for 30 extra second thinking they were magical. I hauled to the back corner of the store, where I immediately scanned and saw no navy shorts. The super nice older lady who worked there said "Oh! I'll watch him while you look for shorts".... Yeah right, watch Grayson? Sure enough I set him down, and he ran, like Usain Bolt in the mens 100m, setting out a devised route that he had been working on since we walked into the store. The lady looked at me like HE was the crazy one... come on woman. It's written all over him, and every other 1 1/2 year old who graces the department store with his or her presence. Briggs and Brannan got a huge kick out of his lightening speed and ran after him, shouting every audible you can imagine. Now, it's become a game. I then bolted, told the lady thank you, and met them two sections over, where Bk3 was hanging onto Grayson's shirt neckline like he had just roped cattle. Grayson squealing. As I grabbed G like a football under my arm (when he throws a tantrum, you have to keep his limbs away from your face), I looked at the other two and my eyes told them to make a b-line for the door. Bk3 ran in front of me and the screaming toddler, screaming sounds like a race car, while I look back to see Briggs trying to "not step on any cracks." Now, if you know Briggs and how slow he is anyways, you can imagine how slow he is avoiding cracks. Again, we got in the car, buckled, and I just could only think about how thankful I was that I didn't pee on myself...I had 2 cups of coffee this morning.
Store 4. Stage
There was a cart. Thankfully. I asked the first person I saw if they had navy shorts and she was smart. She took one look at me with my 3 boys and didn't waste my time. NO NAVY SHORTS. Ok cool! Do you have a bathroom? Cause I still have to pee. Thanks! 3 boys in a large stall in the womens' bathroom will finish out that day for ya real quick.
Store 5. Walgreens, but not looking for shorts.
At this point, I think the boys could understand the fumes radiating off of their mama. My tone was calm (surprisingly), and they behaved. We were checking out, and a kind man with an LSU shirt, around 75, walked in. He stood and waited inside near the door until I gathered my three from the checkout and headed out. He said "Ma'am are ALL THESE BOYS yours?" to which I said "Yessir, they're all mine" He responds with "you sure are blessed with these fine young men you have."
To which I took a deep breath, smiled, and all of the chaos of the 4 previous stores blew on away. He's right and as I buckled everyone in their seats soon after, I could only be thankful for him. He was sent right there in that very moment to remind me how beautiful these tiny chaotic moments prove to be. I think that those signs of thanksgiving are graciously thrown at us everywhere. Surely, we don't always notice them. Especially nowadays, when we are preoccupied with everything imaginable. I was content in the no-find Navy shorts that I'll tackle again tomorrow, in Baton Rouge this time. And for the rest of the day, thought often of that nice man who helped me see the light in that quick minute!
We start Kindergarten tomorrow. BK3 is more than excited to eat in the cafeteria, and that helps me to calm down a bit. Going to bed thankful tonight for the many men and women who love my boys. The many who serve and will serve as their teachers in the coming years. My heart is full, knowing that there are special people on this Earth who they will admire and learn from, as they grow into young men themselves. Or cowboys, as Briggs chose today.
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