Poop Pants and Ezekiel Bread

I started this blog almost a week ago and that's exactly how long I've been hemming and hawing over what my first post would be about.  I thought "oh I haven't added the pictures yet" or "don't be such a negative nancy and don't write about the issues in life".  Truth is, life is kinda heavy sometimes.  I get really really discouraged reading blogs from women that "have it all together".  So you mean to tell me that your husband is so unbelievably amazing ALL the time that you never ever feel the urge to kick him and that your kids are so well behaved and angelic regardless of the setting that you have NO stress in your life?  I'm sorry, we can't be friends.  It's those women, the ones that are too afraid of imperfection to admit it, it's those women that make the rest of us feel like we're doing something wrong.  So here it is......my first blog post. And it's 100% real. 

Cole Harrison started kindergarten on Aug. 15th.  The first two weeks of school were literally spent talking on the phone with the teacher, emailing the teacher, or on our knees praying that we wouldn't ever hear from the teacher again.  I'm that mom.  I got so angry thinking this lady was singling my kid out and that just wasn't going to fly with this mama.  Despite my anger, frustration, sadness, etc. we pulled out all the stops every morning before school.  We were to the point about 5 days into school that we were laying hands and praying before we even pulled out of the driveway in the morning.  I never thought that something like Cole starting school would completely consume both Jake and myself.  I spent countless hours doing the research...Focusonthefamily.com and ADHD/ADD and Section 504 and gifted testing and anything under the sun that I could think of that would be an explanation for my Cole's behavior. It was exhausting.  Somewhere in that time Jake and I decided (which translates into, Jake finally convinced me) to just be patient.  That we prayed about it and God doesn't send us a text message with an answer when ask a question. I am not a patient person. But then....Cole had a good day. And he had another good day. And God reminded us that He was there the whole time. Week 3 rolled around and M, T, W were the same as before. Phone call, email, phone call.  I forgot every single email and every single phone call when Cole, with his tiny little Vienna sausage finger pointing to each of the words, read us a story on Wednesday night. Word for word. No assistance. No mistakes.  He finished and he sat back and looked at Jake and then he looked at me and the grin on his face made any amount of frustration that had mounted dissipate.  I have never been so proud of him.  God surely knew that the next day at school Cole would poop in his pants and this was the build up before the crash down.  Let's hope he keeps on learning to read because the emails and phone calls have only slowed down, not stopped completely ;)

All the while praying for Cole, Jake and I talked about some of our dreams.  And that's when the loop in the roller coaster that puts you completely upside down where the blood feels like it's going to pop your eyeballs out happens. We have this dream of expanding of our family.  Of following God's calling and instructions and bringing more children into our home.  And this happens with Cole, or I see other young mothers who seem to have so much patience and clear vision for God's purpose in their lives,  and I am the first to doubt. The first to doubt that I'm able. The first to doubt that this is God's plan for our lives. The first to doubt that children would benefit by being in our home.  And it's heartbreaking.  Jake was at work one night and I spent a solid hour crying over the defeat. The defeat of realizing that we haven't even started our journey and I'm already weary. Already weary in wondering if I'm a good enough mother. And weary in letting the devil convince me that I'm not.  And I start to wonder.....God sees all sins to be equal.  Does He look at mothers that way? I mean, truly, each of us is a hero in our own way. He's given us each our own amazing qualities that will get passed to these beautiful blessings that we call children.....but we are all very different.  I would love to think that He sees us all the same.  That when He calls His followers to take care of the poor and the needy and the orphaned and widowed that the call doesn't go out to only moms that homeschool, bake their own Ezekiel bread on the same day of every week, and keep the pleats in their apron perfect.  Maybe that's just my wishful thinking.....