Raising Char

Dear Char, this story is really about you. I pray we’ll always be close friends.

I had a flash back of Shep’s drowning a month or so ago at church. The sermon was about the royal official who sought out Jesus to save his dying son. Jesus’ first response is not exactly encouraging. So, the man presses further, desperate. “Jesus, come down before my child dies.” he pleaded. (John 4:46-50.)

In his sermon, our pastor used the words “Jesus save my son” to describe the scene. I could feel it coming when he began the story but this was the instant the memories rushed back and the movie reel behind my eyes kicked on.

Shep is laid out on the floor of my parents’ dining room, eyes half open, paramedics kneeling over his small, limp body. His skin is the wrong color. We stood on the edge of the room, watching and frozen. I want to be on the ground next to him but the logical part of my brain keeps me rooted to my spot, I know better than to interfere with their work. A hand, I think maybe a neighbor who’d heard the screams, is placed on my shoulder, I’m assuming she’s helping ensure I stay put as well.

And that phrase, “Jesus, save my son” escapes my lips, without my consent.

Over and over, I say the words. No one else is talking except for the low murmur of medical jargon from one paramedic to another. But I can’t stop. My words are quiet, but deliberate. “Jesus, save my son.” It was not my mind, but my soul crying out for mercy. My mouth is just relaying the message.

Well.

After three minutes of squirming in my seat in the church atrium, I surrendered. I shot Erron a look (he could see what was happening) then made a quick exit to the bathroom, Charlotte trailing a half step behind me. My shadow. I steered us to the nearest bathroom and made a beeline for the big stall at the end. Locked the door and put my hands over my face, no longer able to hold back the tears. Charlotte, momentarily stunned, moved to put her arms around me. “Mommy, are you feeling ok?” she asked, concerned that my crying was caused by the illness that had run though our family that week. “Yes, baby. I’m ok.” I took a breath, “That story reminded me of Shepherd’s accident and it hurts. Even though I know he’s fine, he’s great. But it still hurts sometimes.”

Char solemnly nodded.

Then she gently reminded me of the trick we had created together last spring during an unusual season of negative thoughts that plagued her daily.

She brought her small fists to her forehead, drew out the thought and broke it in two, as if it were a twig. Then she opened her hands, releasing it into the air. I silently copied her movements, moving my hands to my head and breaking my terrible memory in half. She rolled her eyes, I had obviously done it wrong, and when she giggled, I smiled. The moment was over.

But in that minute, hiding in the bathroom stall with Charlotte, I experienced what it was really like to have her as a friend. On the escape walk there, I’d knew I was going to have to explain my drama to Char once we got inside the bathroom and the tears started rolling. But I didn’t really need to, she already got it… and she empathized. Her presence in my moment of weakness was a sweet blessing. “I’m glad you were here Char.” I told her before we left the stall. “You made me feel better.” And I meant it; she was the perfect friend to have in that moment.

I’m a girls’ girl but I’m not a natural girl mom. My instinct in frustrating situations is to deflect and throw sarcasm out like a shield, or a weapon, depending on the situation. This works all right with Shep, but it does not sit well with Char. In the last few months she’s called me on it and reveled some sharp edges I need to soften in order to love her well. Raising Char provides the friction I need to wear down my rough responses. She is relentless in her fight to get what she wants, be it more tech time or another playdate. She persists, until you want to loose your mind. But she is tenderhearted, (and young) and my reaction to her has to be measured, or else she’s crushed before I even know what happened. I fight a constant undercurrent of insecurity raising Charlotte. I’m worried I’ll ruin our relationship with my quick words and lack of sensitivity, but that day in the bathroom I had a moment of clarity. I can just let her in, and the older she gets, the more opportunities I’ll have to do it. As she grows I can grow too; Charlotte is worth it to examine my responses and see some of them for what they really are, defense mechanisms and insecurities. All my kids make me a better person, but Char makes me kinder. She draws out my vulnerability and reminds me how heavy words can feel.

This last year I watched Char become a little momma to baby Shel. She tends to his needs as well as I do, it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to care for him. He lights up for her. The same persistence that makes me want to rip my hair out is the same grit that is still carrying Char through a tough school year where she has to work harder than most to learn how to read. Char will do 1000 round-offs for her coach without being asked; the girl just knows how to work hard. She is a close observer of right and wrong and considers it her duty to inform you if the scales of fairness have been tipped in any way. Almost seven, Charlotte still crawls into my bed at night, then wraps herself around me. We’ve bribed her and taken away her favorite things trying to get her to stop. It doesn’t work. She comes no matter what. Perseverance, she has in spades.

Charlotte has always been my girl, and I don’t know how I got so lucky. I only pray I can love her back as well as she loves me. It’s like being loved by a firecracker. Intense, sparkly, overwhelming, and beautiful all at once.

Happy 7th birthday Char. You are one to watch. I love you more than I can say.

Shep is 9.

12 / 22 / 1912 / 22 / 19

Dear Shep,

You’re about to be 9. In the car last week we started talking about what age you become an adult. We counted how many years we have left together under the same roof until you are old enough to venture out on your own. You and Char both started crying. You said you didn’t want to go. Char didn’t want you to leave. You don’t have to move out tomorrow, so I’m not that worried for either of you, but I sure did appreciate your desire to stay.

Surprisingly, I did NOT cry. Watching you grow older doesn’t pinch my heart quite the same way it sometimes does for Charlotte and Shelton. Maybe it’s because every extra year I get with you still feels like a bonus.

You asked for a microscope and Pokémon cards. We also got you a big new bike that looks huge and fits me. Poppa T got you the best microscope he could find and made your month by taking you to the lab to make custom slides. I think THIS is why I’m excited about you getting older, Shep. Every year you age up, you get even more interesting. Learning new information is what drives you and it makes talking to you so fun. You ask good questions and you really listen to the answers.

Right now you want to be a pathologist, like Poppa T, but who knows what you’ll end up doing…it’s cool watching you begin to sort it out.

This year you became a legit bookworm. We ditched soccer and Dad and I finally caved and let you start karate. You love it even though it means leaving the house twice a week so I’m kind of impressed. We cheered when you got accepted into the gifted program at school last month; you wanted in more than I realized. This little win for you, was a gift for me, as your mom. It was as if God was reminding me that he didn’t leave out a thing when it came to your healing. He was merciful to you, and in turn, to me.

Nothing about you is textbook Shep, but we are used to it now and we appreciate the ride. You challenge us as parents in the best way. Your passions are clearly defined: Relationships, science, hunting/outdoors and reading. You crave time with your dad more than anyone in the world and shot your first deer with him earlier this fall. It was basically the highlight of your life, and probably your dad’s top memory of 2019.

So babe, when you go to sleep an eight year old and wake up nine, we will celebrate you without the ache of time going by. It’s such a thrill to watch you grow into who you are. Engaging, curious and tenderhearted. My anxiety over your future is rapidly evaporating with each passing year, which means for now, your birthdays are simply happy celebrations.

Happy birthday, Shep. You are deeply loved.

About this baby….

6 / 9 / 186 / 9 / 18

I’ve started writing the “So, We’re Having a Baby” post at least three times in the last six months but just couldn’t seem to get the tone right. My excitement level about our 3^rdbaby has been called into question a few times by family members and when I sit down to write about it I guess I can kind of see why. I bailed on all my drafts of this posts because they didn’t sound “excited” enough and I didn’t really feel like fanning that flame. I’ve also bought next to nothing in preparation for this little guy even though I purged everything baby about three years ago. That’s probably why lots of people assume our baby #3 is a Whoops Baby, but he’s not. It also might have something to do with the fact that we actually SAID we were done. Like, repeatedly, for about 3 years. I even told the whole Internet just how done I was in this post . And we were done….until we weren’t, but that’ s kind of how we roll.

It’s simple really. I had a certain birthday and straight panicked. If I’m 100% honest, we said we were done but it was always because we were locked in a season where we just could not take on any more stress voluntarily. It literally took us a good two years to crawl out of the hole Shep’s drowning had thrown us into, and another year to figure out our new normal. I started a new career, we moved across town and then held our breath to see how Shep would handle mainstream Kindergarten. Full disclosure, it always stung us a little when we admitted we had reached our limit, but we knew enough to know we were stretched as far as we could go, as a couple and as a family. Not to mention, we were already so thankful for what we currently still had, that it felt unwise and selfish to push ourselves into a situation that didn’t work for us just to keep up. Finally, this last year life shifted, we felt steady, unified, and a little more relaxed then we’d been in a long time. We could finally see past a year or two into our future and cast a vision 10-20 years out. We agreed our kitchen table could use one more person at Thanksgiving.

We agonized over going for 3 and then deliberately went for it. We’ve never been able to play the If It Happens, It Happens Game because it happens, every time, in about a month or two, so that thought process doesn’t really work for us. Baby 3 was a decision. We decided, it happened, and then I spent the entire first trimester wondering if I’d made a huge mistake.

I think one of the main differences between this pregnancy and my other two is we are just too busy living our life to sit and THINK about having this baby. Sure, we know he’s coming, but our house is still in the phases of a remodel and our big kids are doing their things, so we just go on about our day. Every now and then I freak out, and remember I need a stroller at some point, and should probably clear out the office to put a new dresser in there. I’ll just say it: Large scale remodeling sucks. I hope I’ll tell you it’s worth it in the end. I can admit that our neighborhood is old school and charmed…but in the thick of it, I’m not going to preach that remodeling, on a budget, (meaning slower timeline), with kids while you live in the house is a great idea. It’s not, at least not for me. I’d rather live my life on the weekends and not be tied to projects, but I also care a lot about having people over and creating a cozy home environment. Let’s just say, I don’t love it, it makes nesting impossible, and I turn all shades of Envy Green when I’m showing clients brand new move-in ready homes.

Another difference: My kids are at my favorite ages yet to date. Five and seven. It’s amazing, and funny, and interesting. It’s all the good adjectives. They are SO fun, and can be SO easy, so I’d be lying to say going back to the starting line doesn’t make me flinch a little. I mean, newborns are Heaven, but potty training is Hell. Not to mention Char just learned how to sleep through the night at the ripe old age of FIVE. On the flip side, now I have helpers, so I’m eager to see how that plays out…. Sister is bursting at the seams with anticipation of her little brother’s arrival and Shep actually cried tears of joy when we broke the news. Their excitement melts me and their bond with each other is one of the main reasons we wanted to add to our family. Char is the one who forces me to walk through the baby isles at Target and points out all the things we will eventually need to buy. She’s a pressure salesman, by the way.

Finally, being pregnant and 30-something feels a lot different then being pregnant and 20-something. It’s just not as much fun this time around…I’m bigger, slower, and feeling a lot less darling about the whole thing. Also, I went mentally dark in the first trimester, something I’ve never experienced before and didn’t know existed. Thankfully, a Sunday school friend noticed me struggling, and shared that she too, went dark with all her boy pregnancies. She encouraged me that the apathy and negativity would wear off in a couple more weeks and thank God, around week 14/15 I was back to being social. My general good will towards life re-emerged around the same time the sun finally came out for Spring. I’m not sure if it was a combination of hormones and the winter months of January- March, but the experience freaked me out a little more than I’d like, plus makes me hyper-aware of post partum similarities.

All that to say, it’s just different this time around…but that doesn’t mean we aren’t pumped. The Pampers Swaddle commercials get me every time. I can’t wait to see what life is like as a family of five. We purposely bought tickets back to Crazy Town and I’m OK with it even if I’m nervous about maybe living there forever. Unfortunately, I’m also obnoxiously impatient, and knowing that Shep eventually ended up fine being born at 32.4 weeks means the minute I get to week 33 in this pregnancy I’ll be like, “Anytime kid. Come anytime.” Which is a TERRIBLE way to think when you’re baking a human, so instead I do the opposite. I just don’t think about it. It’s easier. God willing, our new little guy will make his healthy, fully cooked, debut in September and I’m sure he’ll be worth the wait. Who knows , we might even have a crib by then.

The halfway point about a month ago. Hallelujah.

Fun Fact: My little sister is pregnant with twin girls!! She’s due a month before me. Our parents are beside themselves.

Me with the Baby Daddy–as usual, he added yet another wing to his mansion in Heaven by tolerating me in the first trimester. Hope he lets me stay with him when we get there 😉

Shep is 7.

1 / 11 / 181 / 12 / 18

Dear Shepherd,

You are officially 7. Congrats sweet boy, you are a big kid, even though you occasionally forget now and again. You asked me yesterday if I thought you were too big to be in Kindergarten. The truth is, I second-guess our decision to hold you back every time someone asks you if you are in first grade. I inwardly cringe just a little, as I’m sure you might too. I’m praying eventually this shakes out, until you get your driver’s license before your friends and become The One With A Car. But deep down I believe what I said when I answered your question. “No, sweetie. I don’t. Your dad and I believe you are a leader, so that’s what you can be in school. Being the oldest will help you do that even better.”

If you take your name as a verb, the definition of Shepherd is to guide or direct in a particular direction. Synonyms include: lead, take, guide, and see. These are all attributes I see in you my son. I particularly like the word see. Because you DO see Shepherd. You are the most intuitive child I’ve ever known. You sense what people are thinking, good or bad. This can come in handy for you. You can read a situation and adjust accordingly if you pay attention. You also have passion Shep, and as you continue to gain control of it, you can direct it towards issues that matter to you, and can use your passion to inspire others. You stand out to your teachers and camp counselors for your ability to encourage. That’s leading Shep. Leading is helping others believe in themselves. You do this naturally.

My prayer for you this year is that you will grow in your belief in yourself. You have what it takes. You are a wonder, kid. You’re deep waters, curiosity, heart and fire. We love you more than you could ever know, and we’re right behind you, through this year of 7, and every year after.

Jeremiah 3:15- Then I will give you shepherds who are dear to my heart. Their knowledge and understanding will help them lead you.

It’s clear, Shep has perfected the “Moooom, enough pictures” expression. Never enough, kid. Never. Enough.

Shep: An update

11 / 9 / 1711 / 9 / 17

My kids have left for school and I am home in a quiet house cleaning out my desk. It’s cluttered with school papers of ABC worksheets, and Halloween drawings depicting scarecrows or dancing skeletons underneath a disco ball. (Shep likes a good party.) Char’s big, lopsided, circle faces of our family stare back at me from the page, and my heart tightens. I feel that same feeling every time I watch her skip confidently into school from the car pool line. I am desperate to get them out the door, already aggravated from arguing over messy hair and brushed teeth. But I miss them as soon as they leave my sight.

We are in a good routine now, but this summer parenting left me at a new low I didn’t know I could reach. Personalities were hard, and schedules were loose. I found myself at the end of my rope and grasping at straws trying to understand why one of my children was so angry, seemingly every day. It was a terrible feeling. Dealing with crisis with your babies is traumatic, but dealing with big feelings and angry words on a daily basis drained me in a new way. I was failing…something wasn’t working and I couldn’t find the ways to fix it. It was a whole new type of defeat. Finally, I found help in the form of a sorority sister who happens to be a family counselor. She propped me back up, gave me some new tools and honest feedback. She reminded me that I am my kids’ mom for a reason and I knew what I was doing even when it never felt like it. The things I learned from this summer I’ll try to change over the next one, best I can.

It’s crazy watching your babies grow up. Shep’s reading abilities are slowly gaining momentum and I’m breathing a giant sigh of relief after parent teacher conferences. The kids are alright. My Shepherd boy is alright. We intentionally withheld all information about Shep’s drowning from his teacher and his new school. We wanted a clean read on Shepherd, without any pre-conceived opinions. After 3 years of wondering, I always knew Kindergarten would be my biggest litmus test and I feel like we passed.

I see patterns forming in his behavior, the randomness of ages 3-5 giving way to distinct personality traits. His passions are defined: Science, Legos, family, nature. Encouragement is his gift to others. He gives his heart away without reservation and is learning he won’t always get it back the way he thought. He’s an observer, quick to pick up on words not meant for his ears. Brutally honest, Shep will rat himself out any day of the week but he still manages to be a master manipulator of a situation once he’s pinpointed a weak spot. Our boy loves people but still does what he wants on the playground regardless of who does or doesn’t join his game. His imagination is still his biggest asset.

Brother sister dance off. Shep is sticking by his signature move: The Robot.

Nearing 7, his dance with faith is beginning to take on a rhythm of its own and the steps are becoming more complicated. Nothing slips by him. In a moment of intense frustration he furiously tells me he believes in God, but he doesn’t think He’s listening. His prayers have gone unanswered. All I can do is nod my head. “I get it buddy, I’ve felt the same way. But I know enough to know he’s listing now, so I’m going keep praying because this is a particularly difficult situation we’re in and I could use some help.”

I realized yesterday, praying will soon become my number one parenting recourse when things are going sideways. Erron and I will still encourage, set boundaries and enforce consequences, but once you send your kids off to school and they start finding their own friends, you rapidly start loosing some of the control you didn’t even know you had. It’s terrifying but also exciting to see them work out who they are….I day dream about flying Shep around the country and taking him to different science museums. I’m so curious to see how school will play out for him. He remains complicated, deeply loving, thoughtful and intense. Parenting him will never be boring.

This summer I walked though the wilderness as a Shep’s momma but I also know he’s too old now to share the details of our journey. All that matters is that we came out the other side and our path is much smoother now. This won’t be the last time we’ll get lost in the weeds but that’s ok. Like I said before, parenting is our favorite adventure, and I can’t wait to see where it takes us.

The Good Life

7 / 11 / 15

We have spent nearly every night of summer, curled up with the littles watching a movie. It’s how we ease into bed time. By then, their tiny tan bodies are finally relaxed, and lounging on the couch or the easy chair, these little people nestle in, fitting into our larger bodies, like puzzles pieces.

Last night, when Erron got home, we played hide and seek. Charlotte gave Shep away every time, because she would only hide where he was. He screamed and she bounced every time anyone was found. Attempting to out do Erron, I wedged myself in the cabinets under the kids’ bathroom sink, and then got stuck. Erron would only drag me out after he’d stolen a picture on his phone.

On nights like this my eyes wander across the room and land on Shep resting on Erron’s lap. I gaze at his smooth face while he watches the dragons across the screen and I study his expressions. His tiny slope nose, his giant eyes. Then I lean in and smell Char’s hair, wet and clean from her bath… and my eyes begin to water, I can’t help it. This last year has made me such a softie. I know these are the moments I’ll remember when I’m old, and my babies have walked out the door and into their lives. I’ll think back on how sweet nights like this were, and how we all had to be touching someone else in order to be truly comfortable. This…is the good life.

Tapping out

5 / 13 / 155 / 24 / 15

This picture most accurately illustrates my children's personalities: Ornery, and completely insane. — This picture most accurately illustrates my childrens’ personalities: Ornery, and completely insane.

I’m currently the stage in life where many of my married friends are on to baby number three. Four, if they’re over achievers. I came from a family of three children, so did Erron, and going into marriage I always thought I’d have a family of five. I also thought comprise couldn’t be that hard, which shows just how much I knew going into all of this. Anyway, Shep is almost four and half and Charlotte is two, so if we intend to keep up the two year baby trend, we are already behind schedule.

Once Shep was sleeping through the night I was basically ready for the next one. It wasn’t really a question of if we would have another child; just a matter of timing. Thankfully, once Erron finally decided to board the baby train, sweet-talking him into next one was no big deal. He was as obsessed with being a parent as I was, so 26 months after Shep arrived, we got sweet and sassy Char.

Flash forward to present day, in the lobby of the physical therapy room: Shep’s therapist is giving me the run down of how the sessions went and I kid you not, both my kids are rolling around on the floor. Just, rolllllling around, like they thought the place was one giant grassy knoll. I half-heartedly tried to get them to stop, but every time I reached down for them, they’d just roll in the opposite direction. It was nap-time for Char, Shep had been in therapy for roughly 2 hours and they. were. done. So was I. I’m standing there, focusing on his sweet therapist’s face, trying really hard to listen to her words…but the tiny bodies that keep landing themselves on her feet are distracting me. It’s like this every Tuesday. But yesterday, in the back of my mind I heard the warning bells (which have been ringing for months now) kick it up another notch: I have hit max capacity. It’s not that kids can’t have seasons like this, mine are two and four, and we reside in Crazy Town a good portion of the time. It’s just that yesterday I realized I’m not ready to voluntarily take up permanent residence there for the sake of keeping up with my life plan or the Jones’s. I’m officially tapping out.

Maybe it’s the fact that ‘spirited’ is an adjective I’d use to describe both children. Or, it could be because Shep literally talks every minute of every day and Charlotte’s still not a great sleeper. Maybe it’s all we’ve been through in the last year. Whatever the reasons, I know it’s time to quit pretending baby number 3 is even up for current consideration and start waving the white flag. The jig is up.

While I’ve been able to admit out loud to friends that I’m content with our little family unit, I feel guilty every time I say it. Being a parent is such a blessing and the responsibility it carries is a big deal. Especially if you subscribe to the philosophy that you’re trying to raise up men and women who will go out into their worlds and change it for the better. I look at moms of three or four and sometimes feel like I just can’t cut it. God only knows what kind of kids I’d be sending out into the public if I keep adding more ‘arrows to my quiver’, as they say. After talking over a tough day with another mom, I’ll pause and wonder if she’s thinking, “Allie, it can’t be that bad… you only have two of them!” What is that? For starters, Shep and Char may only equal two bodies, but factor in their giant personalities and the party just got a whole lot bigger. Secondly, what does it matter if my Crazy Town looks different than my friend’s Crazy Town? CRAZY IS STILL CRAZY when you’re living there, regardless of the population. So I’m not the mom who can embrace an enormous level of everyday chaos. I need my one-on-one time. This is what works for us as parents, and it works for my kids, so I just need to own it. I’m owning it: Max capacity people. Now, Erron and I are never-say-never kind of parents, so ask us again in several years and our hearts may have shifted. But we’ve jumped off the two, even three or four year baby track, and at this point I’m doubtful we’ll be buying any more tickets. My heart will always melt every time I see an Instagram photo framing a precious bunch of little siblings, all close in age, and watching Char slip out of the baby phase can slay me in a hot minute. HOWEVER, we are overflowing with love and entertainment at the Weig house. Also, last night, Shep snuck into our room at 2:00 AM, and I woke up in Charlotte’s bed so…I can still pretend we have newborns without trying too hard.

The waiting room

5 / 6 / 155 / 24 / 15

Every Tuesday Shep-man goes to physical therapy for a mild gross motor delay. It’s subtle, you probably wouldn’t notice it unless you were a professional, or his momma. He’s stronger on one side of his body than the other, and he’s been this way since he was a baby. Lots of preemies have similar issues; Shep went to PT off an on in Dallas for at least a year and a half. After the pool accident, getting Shep back in physical therapy was one of the first things I did. His body was weak from being in bed for so long, and doctors told me if Shep had any damage from his injury it may show up as a physical delay first. I figured I’d rather meet any possible delays head on rather then wait for them to surface. A few weeks ago we added in occupational therapy since he recently tested behind in some fine motor skills….we’re cramming as much in as we can to give him a leg up before he starts Pre-K and while it’s still fun. (Shep only knows that he’s going to play with his friend Robin.)

Showing up at the OKC waiting room for outpatient therapy is one of my favorite things I do with Shep and tag-along Charlotte. I mean, it’s not super fun to wait around with crazy Charlotte, but as a parent, I like going to PT because it’s anyone’s guess who you will see in the waiting room. We see a lot of people, all ages, all backgrounds, all needing therapy of some sort, like us. Speech, physical, occupational. We meet older patients who are re-habbing a knee and other preemie kids, doing therapy for similar reasons we are. We meet children with autism, children in wheelchairs, people with walkers, or one leg. Since Shep and Char aren’t in real school yet, we don’t have a ton of exposure to these kinds of things, and time in the waiting room is good for all three of us.

If you have an enormously outgoing little boy, the waiting room is a crash course in handling the occasional awkward question or conversation started by said four-year old. I love that Shep gets to meet people who may initially not look or act just like he does. Some of the people we see in the waiting room are friendly, we know them by name, conversations come easily. Some less so. As Shep’s mom, I gain experience facilitating questions by Shep if he happens to point out anything about anybody that he finds question-worthy. For example, after receiving a complement on his blond hair, Shep reciprocated by asking the older woman why her hair was white. Another time, he told a teenage boy just how much he liked his higher voice, when I’m 90% sure the boy was going to speech therapy for that exact reason. Shep has learned when he talks to a child that looks his age, the child may not be able to respond in the same way. My favorite was when Shepherd shared a time slot with a boy in a wheel chair and a trachea tube. This little guy couldn’t talk much on his own, and his limbs appeared shorter than they needed to be for walking. But he was always happy and outgoing and so were the people who helped him get around. The first time Shep saw him, he had lots of questions. If I’m honest I got nervous when I first saw who we were sharing a waiting room with. I knew Shep would blast me with questions and I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to field them all. But they were innocent enough, and I answered them as best I could. We saw the same boy a few visits ago, we all walked in the building together. Shepherd greeted him by name, and this time only noticed the boy’s socks. They had Cars characters on them. Shep liked them, told the boy so, and then repeatedly reminded me how he had the same kind of socks as his waiting room friend which he thought was pretty cool. Shep is noticing differences less and less the more he visits the waiting room. I like that.

Small talk with the parents is my favorite part. Like me, they are there every week, watching the progress of their own little people. It reminds me that I’m lucky to be dealing with a mild motor skill delay. Most of these parents have a much tougher road to walk than I do, and they walk it every day. It’s humbling, and I rarely leave without feeling grateful.

I wish every kid and their parents got a chance to spend an hour or two in the Jim Thorpe waiting room. I think it’s been as good for me as it has for little man. If we get to a point where we can stop doing PT and OT, I’ll be pumped Shep has reached his goals… but I’ll kind of miss the waiting room.

Everyday Light V. 1

1 / 26 / 152 / 9 / 15

#EverydayLight is a guest series by Chelsea Ahlgrim Photography with the purpose of helping mommas capture better photos of their family’s memories at home. Be sure to check out the Introduction here and Part Two. You can also follow along on Instagram and post your own images using the #EverydayLight hashtag!

Welcome back! Today we’re going to talk about the first three things you can start doing TODAY to take better pictures of your kids at home! Okay, grab a cup of coffee, and have a seat. We won’t even be pulling out your camera today. First I want to talk a little bit about changing the way you think about taking photos- things that may have held you back from trying previously. Let’s get started!

1. Love the One You’re With– We’re talking cameras, folks. We’re not trying to reinvent the wheel here, so let’s just establish that when it comes to shooting in your own home, gear isn’t much of a factor. You will want something with the option to turn the flash on and off, and preferably something with the option to change something called ISO (we’ll talk more about this technical aspect later.)

I started falling in love with photography when using a small point-and-shoot camera from Walmart (An earlier version of this one, to be more specific). I then used a Nikon D3000 for nearly five years before upgrading to my current full frame camera (don’t worry about terminology here. Just know that “full frame” basically equals a professional grade machine). Don’t let your gear- or lack thereof- hold you back! So let’s all breathe a sigh of relief- I won’t be asking you to spend your kid’s college fund for a big fancy camera! (the first few images below were taken with a point and shoot)

2. Let It Go- The idea that you have in your head of the perfect portrait of your children? Hair combed, clean, unwrinkled clothes, sitting in a beautiful chair, eyes on you, smiling on command… Not gonna happen. I mean, yeah maybe. But since this series is all about documenting our REAL lives, let’s stick with the assumption that your house is like mine: It’s nearly noon; crumbs on floors, smudges on windows, toys scattered, breakfast still on the table, dishes still in the sink, kids covered in yogurt, sitting in the middle of the mess, still wearing jammies. Or it’s bath time: water covering every surface, tub ring, WAY too many bath toys, clothes discarded, cracked tile. Or it’s bedtime: beds unmade, messy rooms, naked babies, freshly bathed, a million books by the bed, and the kids are nowhere near ready to go to sleep. THIS is your life. THIS is beautiful. It doesn’t matter that your kitchen needs updating or your laundry is piled on the couch. There are more important things that will be happening in the pictures you take- things that make all that mess make sense- it’s there because you’re too busy embracing the chaos and loving your life.

3. Lead The Way– Part of being a good photographer is knowing when to give guidance. Sometimes it means moving your children into a room with better lighting and letting them continue to play, and sometimes it means giving your child a quiet activity so you can get him to sit still. And very often it means sitting back, watching the chaos unfold before your eyes, and photographing every second of it.

Making play time into photo time has become my jam. Try to remember to remain engaged when appropriate- don’t completely fade into the background. Encourage them to keep doing what they’re doing! Here are a few ideas to encourage activity without staging a photo shoot and times when you want to be sure to have your camera handy:

Art time
Puzzles
Pretend play and dress up
Books they can read themselves
Food to chop/ stir/ frost/ assemble
Dirt digging (deep breath… embrace the mess…)
Bath time
Meal time (breakfast is my favorite)
Bed time
Homework/ school time

These don’t require a lot of set-up, and your kids are probably going to be doing them throughout the day anyway! You know those times where you see your kids playing happily and you stop and think, “I just wish I could freeze this moment….,”? You can do that. With your camera. You just have to get past your fear of inferior equipment or the mess in your house or having no time to shoot. YOU can take charge of your family’s memories. And it’s easier than you think!

I hope you enjoyed our first three tips for taking beautiful photos of your everyday life. You didn’t even have to take out your camera this week! I hope you’ll join us next week for the next set of tips!

xo,

Chelsea

The comeback

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For whatever reason, my first memories of Shep’s drowning have made a resurgence these last few days. It’s unexpected and seems unprompted but still they’ve come, late at night or even in broad day. This Sunday I sat next to Erron in church listening to worship music but in my head I was walking into Shep’s hospital room for the first time. It was loud, from the oscillating ventilator that was pushing air in and out of his water logged lungs at 200 breaths per minute. It made his whole chest vibrate. The room was filled with staff. I remember a nurse walking me in then immediately guiding me to a chair just inside the doorway. Later, I learned she sat me down because my legs were giving out. I never even noticed. What I do remember is asking for a bag and dry heaving into it as I tried to wrap my head around what was happening.

The other night, when the memories wouldn’t relent, I suck out of bed and crawled into Shep’s, wrapping my arms around his breathing body while I begged God to make the movie reel stop. I’m beginning to wonder if I am going to have to write the memories all out. I wasn’t ready to take that on yet. It will wreck me.

But maybe it could heal me also? Writing about the guilt over Shep’s accident was certainly a game changer for my aching heart.

I think the shock of it all was, (and still is) the hardest part. I was just so unprepared, so oblivious to the fact that losing Shepherd could even be in the realm of possibility for my life. Yes, I had definitely felt that fear when he was born much too early….but nothing like the day he fell in. That very day, I’d sat by the pool with my parents and told them about the secondary drowning article that was circulating the internet last summer. I described the symptoms…just so we all knew. What I didn’t know, was that an hour later I’d be back at the pool’s edge, scrambling to reach for my beautiful boy as my mom struggled to drag his body to the stairs. His perfect skin blue, his unusually large eyes cloudy and fixed…staring. I was certain we were too late. That he was gone. I wasn’t ready for it. I wasn’t ready.

I don’t want this blog to forever focus solely on what happened to Shepherd. I don’t want to forever focus it on it. There is so much other life to write about, the beautiful parts, and the parts that are funny, the hard, the fun, and the pretty, so much more life then those terrifying moments. And I’ve learned I love to write about all of it here. But Shepherd’s accident, his miraculous recovery, and God’s peace in the midst of our pain and panic will forever be a part of our family’s story. So… to move on without really telling it may not work for me.

But it’s going to hurt to like hell to write and I’m still not convinced this is the best medium for it. As painful as it is to write, I know it’s also hard to read.

So in the meantime, I’m going to stall a bit longer with some way more enjoyable things to write about. Things that matter to me. Like sister Charlotte turning 2 next month. And my crazy talented sister-in-law, Chelsea Ahlgrim, will grace this space with some photography tips for the totally untalented moms like me, who are only comfortable capturing little moments with an iphone. The hard stuff will always be there, but right now I’m in the mood for a little fun.

I made this my profile picture the day after Shep fell in. I love his eyes in this picture. The 3 of us were having so.much.fun. We are still having so much fun. And I’m so thankful.