Owen Scott

I am about a week late in blogging about why Owen Scott is my favorite son.  This means that Cael has been my favorite for two weeks, a fact that will not be lost on him, I'm sure.  Ahhh, well.  Life just gets away from me sometimes.

I have shared before that I prayed for another son for two years before I became pregnant with Owen.  And yes, I did pray for a son.  I love my boys!!  And as with my other boys, I wanted our new baby to have a meaningful name.  Owen means young warrior.   Owen's middle name, Scott,  is my dad's name.

From the time Owen was born, he was my most easy going  child.  He never cried or fussed.  When he became two he was never terrible. Never trying at three.  Never ferocious at four.  He goes with the flow.  Still the this day, there is little complaining that comes from my little Owie.  If I ask him to do something, for the most part, he just does it.

Owen after a "tubing" accident this year.

But make no mistake.  Owen is full of personality.  I have often described Owie as our big ball of joy.  He is rambunctious and his laughter is contagious.  He is my one child who is always in the moment.  He is not thinking about what happened this morning or worrying about what will happen this afternoon.  I wish that I could learn from my son the trick to being fully present.  I think this is what our Lord was describing when he described the abundant life!

Owen is also innocent.  I know he is only six, but he possesses an innocence that my other children didn't at this age.  Maybe it's more of a childlike faith.  He believes what people say to him.  He believes IN people.  And most importantly, He believes  in Jesus.  We often catch him talking to God in his room.  And Owen falls asleep every night listening to a recording of my husband's latest sermon.  (I know there are some good jokes that could be inserted here about my husband, but I will refrain).  Also Owen wants to be a pastor in a Spanish speaking country when he grows up.

Owen and Toren on our recent camping trip.

Owen is a love bug.  He told me that if dad ever breaks up with me, and he doesn't want him to, but if he ever does then Owen will marry me.  But I will have to wait until he is older, he said, because it would be weird to be married at six years old.   Besides loving me, and his dad (which is why he listens to his dads sermons every night), Owen L-O-V-E-S his brothers.  He begs to sleep with his big brothers every night and he spends his mornings trying to play with his little brother.  I say try because sometimes our two year old can be quite ornery with Owen, but Owen doesn't mind.   He is too busy enjoying the moment to worry about holding grudges.

Owen is just about the cutest little thing ever.  He has horrendous fashion sense which I find absurdly funny.  He never, and I do mean never, puts his shoes on the right feet.  He has only one volume- LOUD!!  And he eats his vegetable without complaining which everyone knows is the way to a mom's heart.  I truly cannot imagine my life without Owie.  He brings so much joy into our world!

Caelan Matthew

When I wrote about my son Jaden last week, my 9 year old said, "I always knew he was your favorite." Not to worry, I told him, "you will be my favorite next week."  And so today, I am blogging to tell you why my 9 year old son Caelan Matthew is my favorite son.  At least for this week.

Cael, as we call him, was almost never born.  When I was 15 weeks pregnant, I woke up in a pool of blood.  I went by ambulance to the hospital.  The doctors told me I would be fine, but the baby most certainly would not be.  I was sent home to miscarry.  When it became obvious that the doctor was wrong, we named our son Caelan which means victorious.  Matthew is after my husband, and means Gift of God.  Cael continues to be both of these things.

Cael is a go-getter.  When he wants something, he gets it.  Whether it is 100% on a test, which Cael gets frequently, a goal in soccer, or a particularly difficult rhythm on the drums, Cael works until he gets what he is after.  As someone who is frequently deterred by obstacles, I admire this quality in my middle son.

I also admire Cael's intellect.  He is most definitely a thinker.  At 8 years old, he was asking questions about theology that I didn't wrestle with until college.  He couldn't accept things, as much as he wanted to,  just because he had been told them.  Cael had to understand truth for himself, which I know in the end will create a much stronger faith.

Cael is also a funny kid.  Impeccable comic timing.  Witty.  Hilarious. He makes me laugh out loud just about every time I talk to him.  He and his brothers are planning to be in a band when they get older.  Cael (let me remind you, he is only 9) told me the other day that he was going to be the brother whose picture was tattooed on every girl's butt.  You laughed, didn't you?  Cael is definitely the comic relief around our home.

And he is gentle.  There was no one more excited than Cael to have a baby brother when our Toren was born.  From about the time I was pregnant, Cael asked every day if he could help rock and feed the baby.  He is still the most gentle and patient with his little brother.  He usually has even more patience than me.  Toren is almost 2 and can be quite a handful but Cael dotes on him.  Cael is going to make a great dad in the distant future!

Cael with Toren

A few more things I love about Cael; he is rambunctious, rowdy, a great reader, a great speller.  He loves grammar. When someone uses 'a' when they should use 'an', it bothers Cael.  That's my boy!  He also is willing to try new things.  He is the only one in our family who will eat sushi with my husband.  It gets me off the hook!  Cael is affectionate and sweet.  He has the cutest dimples, and the most mischievous blue eyes.

So that's my Cael.  I cannot imagine our family without him.  What a gift of God he has been!

Jaden Delon

My children hear about their faults all the time.  I don't want to be one of those mothers with her head in the sand thinking my kids are perfect.  You know the kind of mother I am talking about.So anyway, I correct my children constantly, because they, like me, need constant correction.  But I have to be careful that I do not crush their spirits; that besides  correction, I am doling out affection and affirmation..  I remember hearing once that you could tell a good mother, because each of her children thought they were her favorite.  I want this to be my legacy.

In light of this, I thought I would take one blog post each week for the next four weeks to explain why each of my children ARE my favorite. I figured I would start with my oldest, Jaden Delon.  Jaden means "God has heard." I prayed for a little boy, and despite being totally unprepared to be a mother, God gave me Jaden.  Jaden was sensitive from birth, the littlest things would make him upset.  But now that sensitivity makes Jaden a genuinely kind and good person.  He is the first of my children to be upset when someone is being mistreated.  He looks out for those who are weaker in size or intellect.  He befriends people who need a friend.

Jay, as I call him, is extremely strong-willed.   I have worn out the book, How to Raise the Strong-Willed Child.    Jaden knows what he wants and goes for it.  This quality drives me crazy when what he wants is different from what I want.  But truthfully, I am glad he is strong-willed.  He will not be living under my roof forever, and I am confident that when Jaden is grown, he will make the life that he wants for himself.  He won't be hiding behind indecision and insecurity.

Jaden is also brave.  Jaden made a commitment to follow Jesus this year.  And because of that commitment he has faced tremendous pressure at school.   I know my Jaden well enough to know he probably doesn't say much about his religion at school, but the other kids have noticed his devotion anyway. A few of them have been picking on him because of the Christian bracelet he wears.  When Jay told me this, I expected him to not wear his bracelet again.  But do you know what he did?  The next day, he wore his bracelet and a cross necklace.  10 years old.  I am so proud that my son knows what is important and doesn't allow small people to take that from him.

Other things I love about JD (as my two year old calls him).  He is goofy.  He has a cute little smirk that he gives you when he thinks you are semi-funny.  He is loyal.  I don't believe Jaden has a back-biting or gossip bone in his body.  Jaden is honest, if he ever tries to lie, it lasts all of 10 minutes before he is telling you the truth and that he is sorry.  And he is sweet- Jaden blows his dad and I a kiss every morning before school.  How sweet is that?  He is also sentimental and loves tradition.  If we ever try to do things differently for Thanksgiving or Christmas (or Valentine's Day, or St. Patrick's Day, etc) Jaden will set us straight!!

Jaden is a natural leader and a natural singer.  And as his brother Cael says has natural "glamour", a heart-breaker to be sure.  Also Jaden is the only one in my family who indulges me when I am excited about things. The other boys, to include my husband, look at me like I am a completely different species when I get excited about "girly" stuff.   But Jaden lets me be excited and says, "That's cool, mom."

There are really a million things I love about my oldest son. You would probably get bored reading them all. So I will wrap this post up with, he is pretty awesome and I am so thankful he is in our family!!

His Burden Is Light

I hate when my boys cry.  I know this is hypocritical, because I cry all the time. But I like to think I cry over really important issues. My children cry because they don't want their vegetables or they don't want to clean their room or they forgot to do their homework or some other asinine reason.  On President's Day, my oldest, Jaden, was crying at 8 o 'clock at night because his Spanish homework was hard and he didn't think he could finish it by his 830 bedtime.  To me this was not an acceptable reason to cry.  He had three days to do his Spanish homework and he waited until 830 the night before it was due. No bueno.

I told him to quit crying, suck it up and do what he could before bed.
Jaden's aunt who was over, started helping him. "I love word search puzzles," she said.  "Let me help you." I was glad that she was building a relationship with my son, but it made me wonder why I was totally lacking compassion at that moment. And I had an epiphany.

I have always believed in the adage, "God helps those who help themselves."  But I got to thinking about how my Jaden doesn't do himself any favors.   He puts things off to the last minute causing him stress in school.  He has a hard time controlling his temper, causing him stress at home; that kind of thing.  And then I got to thinking, that I am quite a bit like my son. There are so many areas of my life, weaknesses in my personality that I am utterly unable to fix.  I have tried to be sure, but I am just not strong enough.  So maybe God doesn't help those who help themselves.  Maybe God helps us because we can't help ourselves.

Jaden at his baptism. He is such a sweet boy. I love him!!

Matthew 11:28-30 says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  A yoke is a wooden beam put on the shoulders of cattle, or oxen so they can carry a load.  The yoke I place upon my shoulders, the load I try to carry, it is impossibly heavy.  I need to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect nurse, the perfect friend.  I also need to have a spotless house and cellulite free body.  I should never be depressed or anxious. I should never think bad thoughts, and I should never, ever say the S word.  Only when I can do all these things, will God help me.  But Matthew 11 says something different.  God wants to exchange my heavy burden for a light one.  He wants to take my load.


I am reminded of the Matthew West song that says 
 
I know I'm not strong enough to be
everything that I'm supposed to be
I give up
I'm not strong enough
Hands of mercy won't you cover me
Lord right now I'm asking you to be
Strong enough
Strong enough
For the both of us

So today I am committing to a life change.  I am going to give my load to God.  And I am going to encourage my children to give their loads to God, because they aren't strong enough either.  And I might, just maybe, help my children with their Spanish homework when they wait until the last minute to do it.   Because I want to be a tangible example of Christ's love for them.  Jesus, Gracias por su ayuda.

Medium Sized

My son Cael turned 9 years old last month.  I know in most circles that is not a milestone birthday, but in our family it has become a big deal.  9 years old means you are no longer a Little Kid, instead you are a Medium Kid.

The distinguished title of Medium Kid came about several years ago on a family bowling trip. Cael was about 7 years old at the time and despite Cael's best efforts he could not outscore his older brother.  After the bowling, Cael was frustrated and pouting.  In an effort to make him feel better, I told him that he did really well but that he couldn't expect to bowl like a professional or even as well as Jaden because he was just a "little kid."  Cael started crying, balling hysterically really.  He said that being called a little kid was the worst insult he had ever recieved.  And yes, he did use those words.  He went on to tell me that he could not believe his own mother would be so cruel to him.  Again, his words.  I had to save the situation so I calmly explained that everyone knows you are a Little Kid until you turn 9, after which you become a Medium Kid.  You weren't actually a Big Kid until you became a teenager.  After about 3 hours, a Dr. Pepper, and an ice cream sundae at Village Inn, this became an acceptable explanation and I was forgiven.

Medium sized has its advantages.  You become a better bowler.  You are more helpful around the house so you can earn more money.  You can be somewhat trusted with expensive electronics.  You get to take drum lessons.  I don't believe there is any part of Cael that wishes he was 8 years old again.

Cael

As a mother, I am not so sure I like medium sized.  Cael got called to the principal's office for the first time in the last month.  It was not his fault, he tells me, his friend was pushing and he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Also, at his birthday party, his 9 year old friend was talking about "boobs".  What???? At nine?????  Cael told me he thought this was disgusting and didn't want his friend to come over again, ever.    Thank the good Lord. 

 But still, I am reminded that you can't shelter Medium Kids quite as well as you can shelter Little Kids.  Jaden will be 13 in two years and I am certain that sheltering Big Kids will be even harder than sheltering Medium Kids.  I don't like this, but what other options do I have?  Even if I homeschooled them, and didn't allow my children access to media, and never took them anywhere, eventually my Big Kids would be adults.  And then what??   I guess I could tie them up.  But my boys will be taller and stronger than me very soon.

My Medium Kids; Jaden and Cael

I can't shelter them, protect them, hide them or tie them up.  I can only raise them and ask God to build them. One of my very favorite poems is by General Douglas McArthur.  It is my prayer for my boys as they grow.  The poem is just of a medium size, so I encourage you to read it.

Build Me A Son, O Lord

Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid; one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.

Build me a son whose wishbone will not be where his backbone should be; a son who will know Thee and that to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge. Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort, but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenge. Here let him learn to stand up in the storm; here let him learn compassion for those who fail.

Build me a son whose heart will be clean, whose goal will be high; a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men; one who will learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep; one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past.

And after all these things are his, add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor, so that he may always be serious, yet never take himself too seriously. Give him humility, so that he may always remember the simplicity of greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, the meekness of true strength.

Then I, his father, will dare to whisper, “I have not lived in vain.”

-General Douglas MacArthur

Lights Out

Jaden Sleeping

So it is early Saturday morning and I am sitting at my church in my pajamas watching my children sleep. We are sleeping at the church because our power is out, has been out for over 48 hours now. The power in my house is out because two days ago we had hurricane strength winds in UTAH!! The power company has no idea when our power will be restored but "they are working very hard and around the clock to restore our power."

So this power outage has taught me a few things. One, I am very thankful to be living in the 21st century. I feel paralyzed without internet, cable, my cell phone charger, my hair-straightener...how..do..I..exist. Two, I have too much stuff. It is amazing the amount of things I have to trip over when I have no light to navigate around them. If I lived in a country without lights, I would own a much smaller house, and many less things. Three, I hate being cold. Technically I already knew this, but still. Four, I have forgotten the secret of being content.

Owen Sleeping

My children, on the other hand, know how to be content in all circumstances. Currently they are playing dodge ball with a water bottle in the church lobby. Content. They were excited to camp on the church floor. Content. They were giggling with wide-eyed wonder at getting dressed by candlelight. Content.

Meanwhile, I am sure I will be without power until I am 85. I am thinking of the clothes mildewing in my washer. I am thinking of all the money spent eating out because I can't cook at home. I am thinking of how horrendous my hair looks when it is air-dryed. I am thinking this power outage sucks.

So I was reading my Bible this morning and I came across Philippians 4:6-7.

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God, and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."

Cael Sleeping

With thanksgiving, Lord, I thank you for my children who teach me everyday to be a better person. Lord, I thank you for teaching me to be content in all circumstances. Lord, I thank you that I have had electricity for 34 years and I will probably one day get it back.

I feel better already. A little frizzy-headed still, but better.

Cootie Invasion

I have not updated this blog in almost two months and there is a good reason for this.  Invasion.  Our family has been invaded by cooties.  I am not exagerating when I say that one or more of us has been sick since September.

Currently my husband has a fever, cough and congestion.  He has been in bed all day hacking away.  And anyone who has a husband can tell you, men get particularly grumpy when sick.  So he has been in bed, and I have been avoiding him, while my 5 year old coughs all over the hard surfaces of our home and my baby wipes his snotty, green nose all over the soft surfaces. Yes, that makes one half of the members of our household invaded by the crud.

Last month it was my three school age kiddos who caught the cooties.  They were vomiting with chills and body aches.  My 8 year old got sick as we were leaving in the van for our fall vacation. So we had 6 hours to travel in essentially a big incubator.  We stopped at Walmart and bought hand sanitizer, Lysol spray and surgical masks.   We made Cael don a mask and relegated him to the back seat.  With tears in his eyes and on the verge of vomiting he says to us, "I am humiliated."   But victory- no one else got sick- on the trip anyway.

Cael reenacting his humiliated face.

I am not fond of sickness.  It makes me irritable when my family is sick.  I get irritable because I can't control it.  No amount of hand-washing, hand-sanitizing, medication, isolation or good old-fashioned pleading with God seems to keep sickness away.  And when my kids are miserable, I feel powerless, which essentially I am.  All I can do is love em, hug em, spray em down with Lysol, hope for the best and thank God when its over.  Please God, can this be over soon?