blo.

I’m going to take a little detour from the usual on this post and talk about one of my favorite things.

Hair.

Every girl has that one feature they hang their hat on, and for me it’s my hair. It’s pretty much always been long and blond except for one unfortunate kneejerk decision to dye it brown after having Charlotte. Blonds: don’t ever do this. I wore a hat for a week until I could rush into a color specialist and begin lightening it back to it’s natural color, then sat there, horrified, watching strand after strand of my over processed hair fall onto the salon floor.

Now, with my current life as a (mostly) stay-at-home mom/realtor I don’t have a ton of reasons to get out of yoga pants much less do my hair. I’m a total ball-cap girl. HOWEVER. When I do have something fun to go out to, I like to do it up right. Always have. Same with make up. It’s just so fun when you have the time to do it.

Back in the the Chi-Omega house at OSU, getting ready for Date Parties was one of my all time favorite things. And we had a couple girls in our house who had a gift for making other girls look and feel beautiful. One girl in particular would have a standing line of sorority sisters waiting their turn to get make up and hair done by our resident stylist, Laynie… who I remember always looking put-together, even if she was just going to class. Sweet Laynie would barely have time fix own hair and throw some make up on her face before the event started because she spent the entire afternoon taking care of all her friends. She never rushed on us, and was always asking if we were happy with the finished look. We always were.

IMG_7988 (1) — Their most popular blo out style: “The Dru.” Make up thrown on at home.

Flash forward a few years and Laynie has gone on to launch a fabulous blo-out bar in Oklahoma City known simply as blo. It’s been so impressive to see our friend take her obvious eye for beauty and turn her talent into this incredible business that seems as fun to work in as it is to patron. Not to mention they are just DOMINATING the OKC wedding scene. One look at their beautiful Instagram feed and you’ll see why. (@blooutokc)

Photo by: Emily Ann Hughes. Hair and make up by blo.

Photo by Aubrey Marie Photo. Hair and make up by blo.

A straight blo-out and make up. — A straight blo-out and full make up and lashes. Photo by Melissa Cosper.

I’ve been to other blo-out bars in Dallas and none compare to the one right here in Classen Curve. When I leave blo. my hair looks better walking out, and just as important, it stays put longer. My sister and I got our hair and make done at blo. for Sister’s outdoor summer wedding, and it lasted throughout the entire day, through the ceremony, and past the dancing.

Sister's June wedding! — Sister’s June wedding!

Sadly, I’m passed the “Wedding Every Weekend Phase” in my life as I’m sure many readers are too. Not to worry, that doesn’t mean you’ve run out of excuses to treat yourself to a little girl time. To prove it, I’ve come up with my top 5 reasons I’d pop into blo and get girlied up.
Up first:

1. Family photos-I honestly don’t know why I haven’t done this before. Those pictures go on Christmas cards people. And I’m the one who plans out every single outfit! Why wouldn’t I treat myself to a little hair and make up?! Plus, then my look is a done deal and I can do what I need to do on picture day…. take care of every other family member.

2.Reunions-obviously.

3.Vacations: My blowouts have always lasted well into the next day, even without taking care of my hair-it would be a fun way to kick off a trip: looking and feeling like a million bucks.

4.Erron’s Work Christmas Party: I see his co-workers about once a year, at the annual Christmas party. Beauty definitely isn’t everything, but it’s nice to leave a good impression.

5.The kids’ school fundraiser: I didn’t go this year, but it’s a dress up event and a fun date night for the husband and me. Really, any nice date night is a good excuse to look like a hot momma.

And for mommas with older girls, they have a precious Strawberry Short Cake package for $24 that you can do for your younger daughter, or you can make a blo-out the cherry on top before going out to dinner on a mother daughter spa-day.

Senior Pictures-if ONLY this type of thing existed when I was graduating.

School Dances -they book up quickly on Homecoming and Prom nights, so be sure to call ahead.

So there you have it. Even though my hair usually only sees a curling iron on Sunday morning, I really do love any chance I can find to get dolled up. And blo. truly is the best place I’ve gone to do it. At my own wedding, I had to wash off my professional make up job and start over and had a friend re-do my hair. Blo. hits it out of the park every time, and each stylist who’s worked on me is darling, genuine, and easy to talk to. Blo-outs are $35, up-styles are $70 and braids range from $15-40. Make-up starts at $40. Treat yourself or someone you love, the next chance you get. Laynie has been making girls feel beautiful as long as I’ve known her, and when you walk into Blo. that’s exactly what will happen.

Five

1 / 16 / 16

Shep turned 5 a few days before Christmas. Celebrating another year older is always special as a parent, but celebrating Shepherd’s birthdays tug at my heart a little more than usual. He turned three and half in the PICU, his second day there after being rushed in by ambulance the day before. I remember realizing the date and my heart plummeting, because I couldn’t tell him it was his half birthday, and I didn’t know if he’d ever open his eyes again. With dread I realized I might have already celebrating my son’s last birthday without knowing it. When Shep turned 4, throwing his party was a turning point in my grief, I was finally able to look forward on his life with joy and hope instead of focusing on all the trauma he’d had to endure at such a young age.

And in a flash four became five. Sweet Shep likes to have his parties at our home, even though I offered him a few cooler locations since 5 counts as a Big One in birthday years. He finally cut me off, saying “But Mom, our house if fun.” Well, can’t argue with that. So we planned our little party, and then 3 out 4 of us caught the stomach bug. I finally had to call the whole thing off, the night before. I think that’s a parental right of passage, canceling a party in the eleventh hour.

We finally made it up today: A handful of neighborhood boys and school friends, and a bucket of foam light sabers. It was all they needed to have a great time. I tied white “storm trooper” balloons to water bottles thinking the boys could spend time fighting the helium balloons with their foam weapons. Thirty seconds after the first guests arrived those balloons were obliterated and the boys were running circles around the house screaming and attacking each other. We eventually funneled them outside with the Dads. I love boys and their wild ways, yet it sometimes surprises me when I see Shep cut loose around his friends, officially a BOY: rough and loud and crazy. His party was proved his age, and all that comes with it. They were in heaven, and that made me happy.

Shep is five. And we are so lucky to have him. He’s been described as the kid who “could talk the hair off a dog” and I love this description of him. It’s absolutely true. He doesn’t know a stranger. His humor and imagination are on-point. You have to beg him for a minute of silence in between stories. He is emotional… he loves big and feels deep, good or bad. His temper can be fierce and unpredictable, but his empathy is wise beyond his years. And underneath all that ornery is a heart of gold. Shepherd, your daddy and I are totally loving watching you grow up. Can’t wait to see what 5 looks like for you.

Just put your pants on

1 / 8 / 16

I grew up in a loud family….we already like to talk, and when when we got mad, we would just “communicate” at a extremely high volume and use lots of salty language. It’s one of my default modes. I’ve eliminated the extra seasoning in my diction in front of the little people, but I can still yell when frustrated. Lately, I’ve been using my “loud communicating voice” quite a bit. Recently, I started seeing it pop up in my kids when they got frustrated. I sort of panicked and told Erron, “The kids are yelling a lot, it’s probably because I’ve been yelling a lot. Shoot. I’m going to work on that.” Erron took the strategic rout of simply nodding…neither confirming, nor denying my yelling tendencies or their affect on our offspring. Smart man.

For the first few days, I was awesome. We went through the drama of the first day back to school, (we are not morning people) and I didn’t raise my voice. Shepherd cleaned his room, which always means hours of tears and desperate phrases like “I just can’t DO this! There’s TOO many! It will take FOREVER!!” and I managed to keep my zen-status. Round and round it went: Shep telling me he was basically going to die from slave labor, me reminding him that if he couldn’t care for his toys, he wouldn’t be able to keep them. It took well over an hour, but I stayed the course. No yelling. Room got clean. VICTORY.

Then last morning Shepherd would not put on his pants.

I kid you not, convincing this child to put normal street clothes on his own body is like asking him to pick up tiny legos for fun. This is a daily struggle. He’ll lay on the floor by the fire and act like he’s dying. Suddenly, he’s “too cold” to move his poor frozen little limbs and pull his pants on. It’s SO hard, and he’s freezing. Funny, because Shep can whip a Darth Vader costume on in 5 seconds. Police man outfit, or hunting camo? Easy breezy. Jeans and a shirt though—torture. Shoes and socks? Forget about it.

“Get your pants on and you’ll be warm.” I fire back at him. Tears, howling, gnashing of teeth. I realize he fully intends to keep this charade up until I help him into his clothes, which I fully refuse to do. Which means the battle is ON (again) and the clock is ticking because we have to leave for school in 12 minutes.

In sheer desperation I hiss at him that tomorrow, I will leave it alllllll up to him. After all, he’s FIVE now. When it’s time to get in the car, if all he has on is underwear, then SO BE IT. Underwear is what I’m driving him to school in. He’s not a fan of this idea and in the car he tearfully and angrily announces that he’s going to run away and find a new family.

If I’m not going to yell, I resort to sarcasm– So I respond to his 5 year old threat with, “Well, I’ll sure miss you if you go Shep. But if you run away, I HOPE YOU WEAR PANTS, because you will get COLD. Also, I hope your new mom is cool with you NEVER getting dressed by yourself.” Oh my gosh, parenting.

I drop the littles off, come home, re-heat my cup and then have a moment of defeat over my coffee. And send up a quick prayer that someday Shep will figure out how to put clothes on with out drama. I believe in miracles.

Later, I meet a friend for lunch who has a 4 year old daughter who thinks rules where made to be broken. She tells me stories about how her daughter pushes her to the brink of insanity on the daily. “I thought I was like, a parenting expert with my first one”, she jokingly confesses. “Then I had my daughter. …turns out my first one is easy. ” It makes me feel better.

So, I might have yelled, “JUST PUT ON YOUR PANTS!”, one or two times yesterday. But I suppose it could have been worse; there were a lot unfriendly words rolling around in my head I could have inserted into that sentence to made it way more exciting.

And this morning Shep got dressed in about 3 minutes, I’m saying it was because he was afraid of going to school in his undies. Winning. For now.

New Year

1 / 1 / 16

Fun fact: The end of December marked the first full calendar year for this blog so I was surprised with an email documenting the year’s total traffic data. In the past 12 months, about Prayers for a Pirate had roughly 30,000 visits. Honestly, I have no idea what this really means comparatively speaking, it’s not a gigantic number, but it surprised me enough to share it with you. The numbers don’t matter anyway. The point is, this blog has been such a positive experience for me for so many reasons, and I had no idea how much I would enjoy writing it, and how much healing it would provide me. I read every comment; I always have, from the very beginning when it was just me in a hospital room, posting frantic updates at 5:00 AM about Shepherd on my personal Facebook page. Since the moment I began using social media to share my heart and updates about Shepherd, you, the readers, have been such an enormous life raft of support, encouragement and understanding.

I didn’t know that writing would be the key to untangling the snare of emotions I felt last year about Shep’s accident, but it was. It was like therapy. Writing forces you to process and acknowledge what you’re really thinking and feeling, verses glossing over it and tuning out. And it’s still helpful, even though the story is no longer just about Shepherd. When I finally create the time to sit down and process what’s going on in my head and heart about our little family, it always surprises me how much peace and joy I get from putting it down in words. My goal in 2016 is to keep making a space for this blog in my life. It is one of my very favorite things.

Thank you for being a part of our story.

Learning to listen

11 / 30 / 1511 / 30 / 15

Monday’s are rough. Monday’s after a holiday=near death experiences. But this Monday came with a sweet surprise.

I am one of those annoying people who blows holidays out of proportion. I build them up in my head, what conversations will be had, all the feelings that will be felt and the memories that have to be made. It’s a recipe for disaster, obviously, and Erron usually gets the brunt of it when it all implodes. I’ve been this way since I was a kid, it’s still in work in progress.

Last Thanksgiving was not my favorite. Clearly, we had everything to be thankful for but it was a little too surreal for me and the whole experience was just overwhelming. I ended up hiding out in my closet, hyperventilating at how close we came to a Thanksgiving without Shepherd. This Thanksgiving felt a little strange for the exact opposite reason, Erron was tired coming off a crazy work week and I was feeling high maintenance. There was little talk about what we felt thankful for, and while the food was amazing, and family was nice, the whole thing just left me feeling unsatisfied. This is a personal problem, I could have changed the course of conversation, I could have lowered my expectations to something realistic and I could have admitted it was my attitude that was the most out of joint. If I’m telling the truth, I haven’t been feeling thankful lately, I’ve been anxious…then I feel guilty for feeling that way when I know better, I’ve experienced enough to know better….but it is frustratingly easy to forget sometimes. The whole emotional merry-go-ground just makes me annoyed, but I can’t always figure out how to step off it quick enough.

Erron and I are in a season that is kind of low-grade stressful all the time. I’m pretty sure it’s just a season, but it feels like it’s been a long one, and we are over it. We are ready for a change in the weather. Erron and I were both feeling the weight of our situation yesterday when we finally went to church. I say finally, because we both volunteer first service, but we hardly ever go to second service ourselves. (I coordinate a team of sweet volunteers for Shep’s age group and Erron drives golf carts) Anyway, once we get done with our jobs, we always panic that we might be stretching the kids past their limits. Usually, we are so late getting out the door we don’t even feed them, so we grab them and bounce, opting for lunch instead. But yesterday, we randomly decided to go and it was a sweet relief. I sat there next to Erron, feeling annoyed that I wasn’t feeling grateful. I finally looked at my husband and said, “This will work out, we’ve been through way more stressful things.” He nodded. He knew. And my heart started to thaw out as the service continued. Last night I went to bed in prayer, pleading for a change of heart and asking for trust instead of anxiety.

Now, I am not a girl who hears from The Man Upstairs directly, but when I woke up this morning the verse about not being anxious and instead being prayerful and thankful was rattling around in my head. Literally on repeat.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ~Philippians 4:6

And then it happened. I pulled out my wallet after coffee and began making the calls I needed to make. All the doctors’ offices that I had been putting off. First call in, our biggest bill…the woman on the other end tells me it’s been run through the system incorrectly and re-adjusts. Our mega bill is cut in half. Then I check on our med-flex account to make sure they received the payment they needed and hear there is enough money in there to cover the rest of the bills. Like, all of them. Paid in full. I thought we had drained the account months ago. This morning was such a gift. And completely unexpected. The timing couldn’t have been sweeter.

Since my experience with Shep, little by little I’m learning how God can sometimes whisper in your ear by laying words on your heart. I have to say, it’s my favorite lesson so far about the nature of The Man Upstairs.

Dear Charlotte,

11 / 23 / 1511 / 23 / 15

We’ve had a rough couple months haven’t we? We’ve gone toe to toe over getting dressed, the 5 pacifiers you carry around with you, coming when you’re called…. It’s gotten a little too routine to go to war with you over stuff that doesn’t really matter much in the long run. I’ve been impatient, frustrated when you make us late because you have to buckle your seat belt without any help from me. You won’t let me touch a thing you’re working on, if I do, you start over, and that’s hard. I’m sorry Sis…I should give you more grace. I know you like to do it on your own, it’s my fault I didn’t create the margin in our morning for you to figure it out.

Sweet Charlotte, I didn’t know how complicated it would feel having a daughter. I had no idea how much I would want you to need me, and to want me. You’re so little Sis, not even three, but most days I feel like you would get along just fine without me as long as you had Brother around to play with. You put on your clothes, you buckle that tiny gold buckle on your shoes, and you brush your own teeth. If there’s food you can’t reach, you drag a chair over so you can.

Lately, I’ve felt like a first time parent. You attack life so differently than your older brother and sometimes I get tired of choosing our battles. Most of the teachers are used to seeing me drag you out of a building kicking and screaming. You’re wearing a princess dress or a dance leotard and you’re furious you can’t walk in the parking lot without holding my hand. But it’s my job to keep you safe, and give you boundaries. You hate it…but you need it Sis, I promise, you need it. People say I was like you at this age….yet you intimidate me with your spunk, I have yet to see you face an obstacle you couldn’t bulldoze your way through. You’re not afraid of much, and there’s nothing you won’t try.

“I want to DO it!” is a worn out phrase in our house. I’m proud to see you conquer things I wasn’t expecting you to figure out for another year….but sometimes I’m only pretending to be excited.

“Good job, BIG girl!” I cheer… mentally crossing off another thing you used to need my help for.

You’re sassy. That’s one thing we really do share, and when I think of myself at 13 and the things I said to my own mom, I cringe. Then I come down on you… hard, afraid you’ll turn into me. When you pull my hair at family photos on purpose, I react. I worry someday you’ll want to pull away, to put lots of distance between us, like I did once. It’s not fair put my fears on you.

Recently, I’ve been so focused on your stubborn streak. I got too concerned about what it might mean for you in the future, and hung up on how inadequate it made me feel in the moment. I lost sight of the softer side of you. You become protective if you see me upset. You come for snuggles, every morning. Tiny you, shouting your Big Goodbye to Shepherd over a room full of students at drop off. You’re so capable, but you are also precious and loving Sis.

A few nights ago, I was singing your bed time song,… ”Hey Charlotte, heeeey Charlotte, hey Charlotte, Charlotte Rose….” And you were singing it with me.

Except you changed the word Charlotte to Momma in every verse.

And I knew that you adore me as much as I adore you. Sister, you are so special. You amaze and overwhelm me and I’m still trying to figure you all out. I promise I’ll never stop trying. I think you hung the moon Char. I can’t believe you’re mine, that I get to be the one guiding you into the woman you’ll become. It’s going to be an exciting trip Sis, I’m so happy to be taking it with you.

All my love,
Your Momma

char — Photos by Chelsea Alghrim Photography (The Outtakes)

The White Unicorn

11 / 12 / 1511 / 12 / 15

Abbey&Allie — Remember when we signed all our notes LYLAS? I feel like if we dug out thank you cards to one another from our wedding presents, it might still be signed the same way…..

We have been in our new town now for a little over a year and half and we are still trying to find our people. We know a lot of wonderful people, but I wouldn’t say we’ve found our PEOPLE, if that makes any sense. Our experience with Shep took us of out of play for a good 10-12 months and for a long time after I only felt known as “that mom who almost lost her son.” That was fine, because for a while, that’s how I knew myself too, but now I miss being known, and known well.

I crave the type of friendships that pick up immediately where they leave off, where judgment isn’t welcome, and any topic is up for discussion. History and shared experiences dictate the depth of many friendships and that’s just something I don’t have with other girls here yet.

However, over the last few years, I’ve discovered a new common denominator in friendships that allows them to grow and deepen at a much faster rate, but it’s scary to be so vulnerable up front. And yet I have found that friendships where faith is the foundation, where spiritual struggles and growth are consistently topics of conversation, have a completely different feel than other friendships. Sure, you can drink wine and talk about your kids schools, the best type of spray tan, or the fact that you sat in bed and watched music videos the entire time your kids napped…. but you can also talk about how you worry your faith is not always enough to help you raise a challenging child, how starting a new business can make you feel terrified and exposed, or how showing your husband the love and kindness he deserves feels like a tall order….you get the picture. The nitty gritty type of conversations. I miss everyday friendships with girls who ask the follow up questions, the “why do you think this/feel this/do whatever” type questions and then will be brave enough to tell you the truth, gently, even if it’s hard.

You know, the Meridith and Christina type friendship. Your person. Husbands are awesome, but they can’t be your Person. You can’t talk to your husband about you husband. Obviously.

On a Texas Girls’ retreat recently, this type of friendship was jokingly dubbed “The White Unicorn”…we all want to know her, but she’s super hard to find. Especially in this phase of life where tiny little people consume much of your free time and half of the meaningful conversations you start with other women are interrupted to change a diaper/stop a fight/hand out cheerios, never to be resumed again. Some of us girls realized we have one or two White Unicorns in our life, but maybe they are not in the same town, some of us had many at one time…but most of us have moved away from Dallas, and we are all starting over in our new places.

In reality all you need is one or two true friends, and I’m so thankful to have experienced what that type of relationship even looks like in the first place. It’s a high bar to set. Abbey for instance, will meet every problem I throw at her with the pronoun “we”. She says, “Oh no, Allie…that’s not gunna work, we need to fix that. We need to work something out. ” I love that about her, she’s all in, all the time.

Same with the Texas Girls, some of us only see each other once a year, at our retreat. But when we gather together to catch up on our lives, and spend time praying for one another, it’s like we never moved away, and have continued to meet every week for the last 5 years.

Erron and I are starting to realize too, that now that we’ve seen community done, and done well, it may be time to step out of our comfort zone and lead out in what that might look like. You can’t find the types of friendships I’m talking about if you aren’t willing to be that type of friend in the first place. So, here’s to taking a leap of faith…and white unicorns. I hope we all find at least one.

Borrowing Trouble

10 / 9 / 15

We have this expression in my family about “borrowing trouble”. It basically means you look at the all the different paths your life could take based on a big decision you haven’t even made yet, and obsess over how it could go wrong. It’s a mental “What If” game, except the outcomes are always anxiety producing. Super fun.

My little sister is on fall break from vet school and yesterday I got to catch up with her while the littles played on the playground. She’s 8 years younger than me, and got married last summer at the same age I did, 8 years ago. It’s so interesting for me to watch her figure it all out and wrestle with some of the same things I did when I was young(er) and just married. Today it was kids: when to have them, why to wait, why not to wait, how and when to best fit having a family into the life she and her husband are working on creating. We went through all the options, mentally walked down some paths they could take. “I know I’m borrowing trouble…” she sighed, “…but do you ever just worry about how it’s all going to work out?”

I’m an anxious person by nature, even more so about certain things since having kids, and then almost loosing one of them. But when I answered my little sister, I surprised myself by how quickly it left my lips. “No. No! I’m really not anymore. I have discovered that life throws you enough trouble when you’re not ready for it, you don’t need to go borrowing from tomorrow. It’ll work out, I promise, it’ll work out.” And I finally, FINALLY, meant it.

Truth: When I got married, I was a HUGE fan of the 5 year plan. Talked about it allll the time. Live in this house for 3 years, have kids after 2 years, quit job immediately, have second baby, then another… la-di-da-di-da. Five year plan–SO set.

Guess how much of our life went according to the 5 year plan?

But I really do remember how stressful those decisions where, creating families and navigating jobs, picking where we were going to live…. and agonizing…how was it all going to really WORK? It’s super stressful. And honestly, much of it wasn’t pretty while we were figuring it out, but looking back on it, so much of that stress was brought on by what I thought it should look like, not from what it actually was.

Once you get over what you think your life should be, it can free you up to enjoy where you’re at. Some days that’s easier than others, even now I have a much looser version of a 3 year plan, but it’s written in sand, not stone, and I’m fully aware it could change drastically, on a dime, and without my permission.

I still worry about the future of my kids, how they’re doing, how they will turn out, especially if they are being hellions that week and feel like whining/crying/sassing all the minutes of the day. Yes, I sometimes borrow trouble there. But overall, I don’t think much further past the year I’m in.

I’m starting a new career soon, in about a week or so I’ll be working as a real estate agent in OKC/Edmond. It was just August when I took the leap and went to class and now it’s happening. This was never in my 5 year plan when I first got married and since I left teaching I have entertained at least 3 other career options, even enrolling in school for one of them. I had a new 5 year plan at that time, and then we moved states. So here I am, and I could not be more excited about this new adventure, I think it’s a great fit and can’t wait to get started. I have big dreams about where it could lead, but I’m holding them in open hands.

Cause now I get it.

“A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.” Proverbs 16:9

It’s not about me, even if I want it to be, it’s just… not. And the faster I can remember that, (because I forget) the easier the road is to walk.

Sister, you will figure it out, you’re so smart, you have a great teammate, and life will happen the way it happens. Don’t borrow trouble Sister, it will find you on it’s own. Enjoy the ride.

BONUS: Ditching the Plan (Funny to see last year’s plan…it didn’t work out either. 😉

Driving to the Real Estate Commission to file paperwork after passing an awfully hard test. Happy day.

Shep got stuck in his first tree on the playground. I like this picture because I think he looks sweet. I hate it because I think he looks 7.

Taking a water break.

9 / 23 / 159 / 23 / 15

Sister is watching the Princess Sophia in the family room while I’m hiding out in my bedroom trying to pull it together. It’s been a super challenging week as Shep’s momma. Shepherd has been melting down a lot lately, at school, at home, at church. The tears don’t last long, over half the time they are fake, but the frequency is concerning, plus the fact that it doesn’t take much to upset him. Transitions feel nearly impossible some days. Recently, since school started, he’s developed a little nervous tic and it breaks my heart to see him do it.

We saw one of Shep’s brain specialists this week. I am told that it’s entirely probable some of the impulse control issues and big feelings Shepherd experiences are directly related to his specific type of injury. The part of the brain responsible for regulating those things is incredibly vulnerable to anoxia. After more testing, later in the same sitting, I’m also told Shep knows how to manipulate the situation (this I know) and a 20-somthing-year-old counselor (who I’m fairly sure doesn’t have kids) suggests some parenting strategies I have already been doing for months. I would have pursued it further, but by this point, we’ve been there for hours, Shep is whining and performing his fake cry in front of Doctor and her assistant…and I’m sensing I’m not in the best position to dig any deeper into it. I listen hard, take notes, and drive home in tears.

Shep IS sensitive, it’s always been his nature. And it’s also true that for the first 6 months after Shep’s accident Shep melted down ALL THE TIME but Erron and I were barely keeping it together ourselves. We didn’t tow the line as hard as we do now…Shep wouldn’t have done well with such a firm hand and honestly as parents, we wouldn’t have done well cracking the whip so hard and so soon after nearly loosing him.

But we have firm expectations now, and have for quite some time. At least every other day Erron and I discuss how Shep is handling his emotions, what our strategies are, how Shep is reacting to them. Erron has recently started meeting me down in the Children’s Ministry on Sundays to watch how Shep is doing in Big Group while I volunteer. We feel like we are holding our breath a lot of the time. Erron and I can play it cool in the moment, but when the day is done we exhale and then re-assess. In the morning, I brace myself for Shep’s reaction to the fact that we ran out of his favorite drink for breakfast, and mentally work out my game plan for helping him work through his frustration. My instincts say it’s more than just behavior choices, the science it there to affirm it, but owning that means some of Shep’s struggles stem from his accident. And I don’t know which scenario hurts worse, the chance I’m enabling him, or the fact that his injury is making this harder than it would have been otherwise. Not to mention the possibility Shep is just having a rough transition going to school every day and I’m losing my mind over nothing, just a phase.

I woke up today frozen in anxiety which means Sister gets lots of screen time while I work out this pity party. The uncertainly is screwing with me, Guilt is trying to crawl his way back into my head and start a party with Panic who’s already set up camp. The reality is Shep’s struggles are probably a cocktail of all the scenarios I just laid out. Erron called from work later today and reminded me that whatever the reason, our parenting approach doesn’t change, stay the course, tighten the screws. His advice was what I needed to shut of the waterworks and put my game face back on. Raising kids is marathon, not a sprint….I just needed a little water break. Fine, it was breakdown…but whatever, I’m back in the race.

The first week of school: Initiation

9 / 4 / 159 / 4 / 15

It’s Friday morning. We have almost made it through Shepherd’s first week of school. Besides being super tired, Shep has appeared to take the change well. I’m obsessed with his new school and Shep acts excited about class even though he’s going every day. Drop off got a little shaky towards the end of the week, but it seemed to be from sleepiness more than anything else. I could not be more thankful at how smooth it seems to be going for him.

However, it’s been touch-and-go for me. I had such a fantasy going in, dropping Shep off, going on a jog with Char, studying for my test while she napped….it was going to be dreamy. Oh, and I was going to potty train Sister this week while it was just the two of us. No big deal. Tuesday, the First Day of School: I was up before the kids, had breakfast on the stove and Enya playing in the background when they wandered into the kitchen. I wasn’t playing around. This transition was going to be calm and smooth. I mean… Enya. And my plan totally worked, for like, 3 hours.

Then the hazing began. Let me just describe “The Pick Up” on our first day, at our new school, with the unfamiliar parents and staff. Charlotte, my agreeable child, has been on antibiotics for a bad cough this week and has morphed into a monster that looks like my daughter, but acts like a maniac. I have yet to leave any building this week with out dragging her out kicking and screaming. Literally. It would seem she’s staging a very willful sit-in wherever we go. At the end of the first day of school, Shep was so tired he laid down in the middle of the hallway, (drama) and Char was performing her stiff as a board trick, so I was physically unable to bend her back into the stroller without drawing a crowd. It was the first day, and I was in deep waters. I was prepared to temporarily ditch the stroller and drag both of them to the car, but Shep’s sweet teacher swooped in, plopped an exhausted Shep into the abandoned stroller and wheeled him outside while I man-handled Sister Psycho out the door. I think we left a good first impression.

And that pretty much sums up the week. Between the new 6:30 am wake up call and crazy Char, I’ve just about lost my mind. I’ve been jogging for 5 minutes and I’ve studied about 3 hours and Sister actually used the potty 0 times. Wednesday: Sister didn’t enjoy driving home after dropping Shep off at school. She screamed, “Let me out!” at volume infinity and clawed the door handle for a solid 12 minutes. I kept hitting the lock button because I was only 85% sure the car seat straps could contain the little ball of rage in the seat behind me. Wednesday night: we started our new class at church. Char misses Shep terribly when he’s away, “Where’s Shepherd? He’s my best friend!” ( I love it, it’s precious.) However, once they are reunited, it gets a little dicy. Shep is tired and kind of grouchy, Char is intentionally annoying to make up for lost time. This week, the afternoons seemed to stretch on longer than usual, thanks to the tiny tempers in our house. Erron got home just in time to corral little people out of the house for church while I stood at the end of the driveway glaring at the car and trying not to cry. My husband seemed confused.

“Sooo, you still want to go to the class?” He asked.

“Yes!” I hissed back so the neighbors could not pick up on my hysteria…”Only I wish it was a lock-in! For the kids!”

Thursday: Drop off was more of the same, only Shep cried because he was tired from church the night before. Driving home, I worried about Shep, repeatedly hit the lock button for Char, and seriously contemplated what my second cup of coffee would taste like if I added a large amount of Baileys Irish Cream. (For the record, I used whole milk in my coffee and called the pediatrician instead…we didn’t have any Baileys in the house anyway.)

Friday: Whole family was out the door by 6:00 am to take Erron to a tiny outpatient sinus procedure, which translated into a tearful Shep being carried into school by a teacher at morning carpool. My heart broke. He is just SO tired. So relieved today is a half day, so I can get him back early and snuggle him back into bed for a nap.

Silver lining: I’ve talked to at least three other momma friends this week who are also pulling their hair out as their families adjust to their new schedules. I may be crazy, but I’m not alone in my insanity and that’s always nice. So, the new routine won a few battles this week….I admit. But this is a long game, not a short one. Soon Char will start feeling better and next week she starts MDO at Shep’s school…I’m working on winning the war.