even more perspective

Last year I learned about the character-refining qualities of things like perpetual asthma attacks and bug invaders.

Last year and the year before I learned about the importance of accepting God's timing as we waited over a year to conceive our second child, only to miscarry and then wait another three months to conceive Lizzie.

Not that I claim to have perfected myself through these trials.

But the lessons came in handy two nights ago when TWO babies, not just one, took turns waking up All. Night. LONG. And when they switched off at around 4:30am, and I thought I just couldn't get out of bed one more time, I smiled, thinking of the sweetness of this time in our lives and how much time we spent longing to be in this place. We are finally here -- finally we have two miracles filling our house with chatter and giggles; finally we have two beauties to tuck in and cherish. And finally we have two little ones who cry all night when they're both stuffy and coughing with ear infections. Two call for us, desperate for the comfort that only mama, daddy, and some Tylenol can bring.

And that feels so good that even in the pain of a sleepless night, I wouldn't trade it for anything. What a wonderful, much-anticipated gift.

And what a gift of perspective I gained through the heartache. Yes, I believe God knows what he is doing, after all.

wordless wednesday

sisters

i got schooled...

...in Uno by a 3 year old. I love spring break.

completely normal

"How do you expect us to answer this question?" came the accusing words of one student today. The class was taking their final exam for the quarter, worth about 5% of their final grade in the class. I had checked over the exam thoroughly when I gave it two years ago, but didn't get out my fine-tooth comb this time around. And it bit me. My student was right: there were questions on the exam that were impossible for them to answer, and others that were confusing; all of it led to mass frustration.

For the rest of the period, I felt like I had failed them. Trying to balance time with my family with grading essays/planning meaningful units is hard: I've no where near mastered this art. But I do try hard to do right by my students. This time I'd unwittingly set them up for failure, made myself look incompetent, and felt horrible about it all.

Then about 20 minutes later I saw a student walking outside. He'd been released early to lunch by another teacher as a part of a school-wide "get good test scores, get out of class early" campaign. The only problem was that he had skipped my class this morning and missed that exam in which I embarrassed myself. And he's missed about four other days this month. So I casually walked outside, greeted him, and pulled him inside my classroom where I handed him the exam and told him to finish it. He's a great kid and we were friendly in our conversation, but I was totally the Boss and had my act together. I allowed him to send a text to the bewildered friend waiting outside, and then he got started. It was awesome.

Days like today make me feel completely inadequate, and on top of the world, and very much on the ball, and quite human in my normalness. Really, I'm not a terrible teacher or a brilliant teacher, but a teacher who is very human in her makeup and who gets better and better all the time.

And that isn't all that bad.

wordless wednesday - happy st. patty's day

"i'm done with this"

For almost two months now, Beloved has been staying home every Monday to take care of the girls. Pink loves this, and Lizzie is getting some bonding time in with Daddy, plus he gets to watch the girls grow and learn things like how to sit up and what the "Reverse" card in Uno does.

We are all better for the time he spends with them while I'm at work and, for many reasons, I wish this weren't just a one-year arrangement. This one phrase struck me as so funny, so powerful, and gave me such a sense of solitude (much like his realization a couple weeks ago that a friend wrote about):

"I'm done with this." Not actually done, but tired of trying to make the 4 month old feel better through all-day-long fits with her sore gums; tired of having someone he loves stop by without notice; tired of trying to carry laundry, a baby, and a 3 year old's book at the same time; tired of doing all of this while exhausted because he stayed up too late the night before and little ones are merciless when it comes to waking up in the morning.

So when he said those words at 7pm, after 12 straight hours of crying, no naps, and everything else that comes with a normal day, I sent him to veg with a Klondike bar while I did both baths. He came up for a dose of giggles and then went straight back downstairs.

He's getting a break while I'm on Easter vacation and then he's right back at it in April. He'll be so happy to be back at home with the girls, carrying the weight of that responsibility. And now he understands me just a little bit more.

And I think he resembles Superman just a little bit more.

livin' like no one else

Our small group is painstakingly working through Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University. One of the main things he tries to drive home is the idea that sacrifice & responsibility now pay off later in huge ways. His slogan, "If you live like no one else, later you can live like no one else" is repeated throughout the program.

This morning Beloved and I were trading texts about growing old together and toasting to 60 years someday. In one of those "awww..." moments, he wrote "I want to live with you when we're both riding around in wheel chairs. Maybe we can even afford electric wheelchairs!"

And we realized right then just what Dave meant by living like no one else: we'll be able to roll like no one else.