Out of control

I've noticed lately that other people have been correcting my children. I can't decide if I want to be pissed about it or grateful. Let me elaborate...

Friends and strangers seem to be more aware of my children's misbehaving than I am. Just the other day while at the pediatrician's office, the doctor must have corrected my boys 6 or 7 times. "don't touch that. that isn't to play with. that can break. let's not do that..." Frankly, I got ticked. Seriously...we are in a 4x4 room for almost an hour with only 3 books that are 'touchable' and everything else is off limits. are you kidding me? have you met a 3 and a 1 year old boy before? she was lucky they didn't set the place on fire.

A few weeks back while shopping in a local consignment shop, the clerk scolded the boys for playing too rough IN THE KIDS ZONE of the store. She's lucky I didn't punch her in the face. Did she think she was in Saks or something? I politely told her to kiss off and that I would never shop in that dump again.

the nerve.

And again in my own home one of my dearest friends had to get on my 3 year old for throwing, sassing me, and other annoying crap three year olds do. now of all the people in the world, my dearest friends have full permission to unleash on my heathens. so her doing so didn't bother me...it just makes me question my effectiveness as a threat parent.

Are my kids are out of control?

I've come to ignore most of their shenanigans around the house because if I jumped every time I heard a crash or a scream coming from the other room...well, i'd be doing a lot of jumping. This is an ability that i as a parent have worked hard to acquire. why can't everyone else just look the other damn way too? so what if my boys are standing on top of a kiddie table growling like lions or belly surfing on your beloved doctor swivel stool. did they break anything? has anyone been hurt?

yet?

i know. i know. the yet is bound to happen. but how can anyone live in the yet? that word sucks all the fun, adventure, mystery, and chaos out of life as a toddler boy. don't people realize we've exhausted ourselves as parents to scare teach these little monsters the BIG dangers in life? like don't run out into the street or parking lot. don't touch hot shit. and avoid head trauma at all cost (see first rule). come on...if they can make it through childhood without breaking one of these rules then i should get a freaking medal.

Now i am realistic...i realize that their abilities to destroy will increase exponentially with every year lived. especially the 18 month old...he's smarter than he looks. We will be on first name basis with the local firemen, explaining to neighbors why their cat has no hair, and the like.

But my prayer is this...that while these boys are young and discovering their boundaries, Lord, we can be ever so patient (and that hag in the retail store). These boys need freedom to explore the amazing world You've set them in...protect them when it really counts, Lord. Help us to love them well through all the breaks, bumps, blood, boogers and burps. Show us how to grow these little monsters into Jesus-loving men. (and forgive me for calling that hag a hag). Amen.

Luke 9:23

Jesus has been turning over tables in the temples of our hearts. He has called the Meeks' to be his followers, and that ain't no easy task. Thankful for a merciful Savior who teaches us with grace every day how to be more like Him.
On Wednesday, Jesus spoke to me through the shenanigans of my 3 year old. We had a rough start to the day. Mouths full of sass-talk and fuses short. It was a eat a ton of chocolate in hopes things will get better kind of day, if ya know what I mean? Miraculously, the boys detached their leaching bodies from my legs and were entertaining themselves...but after a few moments of uncharacteristic silence I began to panic. Where are they? What are they doing? Who is killing who? I scanned the room and found Micah hiding under the kitchen table.
"Micah, what are you doing?" (read that with as much sarcasm and annoyance as possible)
Realizing he had been discovered, He emerged -- now shirtless -- with an expression of pride on his face.
"Look, Mommy. I draw Jesus cross."

On my knees -- literally -- I hugged this sweet child and thanked the Lord for him. Yes, he wore not one but three crosses on his chest.

Luke 9:23 Then he (Jesus) said to them all: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me."

What a gentle reminder that we are all called to take up our cross daily and follow Him. Not just on the good days when children are attentive, the sun is shining and coffee is brewed... but on the days filled with resistance, suffering and pain, chaos, insecurity...because whether or not we ask God for the eyes to see it, every day is filled with both.
Lord, let me never be so comfortable that I forget your mercies. Let me never be so blind that I don't see my hurting neighbor and lend a helping hand. Let me never forget the sacrifice you made for me...for us all.

Today, I will take up my cross and follow you.

Tristan's 1st Bug Day

Due to technical difficulties with our home computer, this post is several months late. Apologies.

What a Bug-tastic day it was! Our little bug turned one in June. Thanks every-buggy who helped us celebrate this very special day (and trust me...the fact that we all survived to see this day is a miracle!)
Special thanks to the fabulous Chelsea Thayer of "Good News Photography" for capturing every exciting moment of the party and to my big brother, Ricky, for the sweet treats and incredible snail smash cake.

T's Grampy (serious family resemblance)

Bug Hunt

Dissection

Growing pains

What a heckofa twelve months we have had at the Meeks house. A LOT of sleepless nights, too many tears (from all of us) and growing pains we thought just might kill us. Yet, only by the grace of God have we survived 12 of the longest, most challenging, exhausting, faith-changing, family-strengthening months of our lives. Praise Jesus we're still standing. (ok, maybe more like KOed on the floor from the utter beat down, but we have a pulse. yes, there is still a pulse)

The transition (ugh, just that word makes my head hurt) into a family of four was not a pretty sight. For me, especially, it was down right back breaking. I have experienced the complete biological overhaul that months without sleep and post-partum/lactating hormone wonkiness causes in a woman and...frankly...i was a real nut job. I know, I know...it may be hard to believe that cool, calm, never gets angry or raises her voice Brigitte could ever lose her mind and scream muffled profanities into her pillow through uncontrollable sobs while praying for Jesus to come and put us all out of our misery. Way too dark for this Susy Sunshine, right? Ha. I laugh in a really sad, that's-so-neurotic way.

And oh my poor husband. Does anyone remember that guy? He's aged. Yeah this year has definitely put a few more grays in that head of hair. Seriously...poor guy...I bet he wondered if we would ever be happy again or if he would ever get his wife back. I wondered it too. I mean we were normal and happy once. We have the pictures. We looked so smitten, in love and NOT EXHAUSTED! Who knew when I was young and would party until 3am that one day I would sell a kidney for a good nights sleep.

Micah did as well as any 2 1/2 year old could do when faced with the many challenges of having to share his parents with a sibling, beginning daycare, potty-training, and health issues. Bless his heart, he did the best he could. It was no easy task and we are so proud of the Big Brother he has become. Tristan adores him. I can already see glimpses of the brotherly affection that will bear such sweet memories like bloody noses, broken furniture, and misdemeanors.

Then there's baby Tristan...why wouldn't he just fit into the 'Micah' box that we as parents were already equipped to handle? I mean Greg and I are rockstar parents. We had Micah on a sleeping schedule at 6 weeks of age, sleeping in his crib all night without having to be rocked or cuddled to sleep. We gave him two naps a day each 2-3 hrs long. We really did everything right with that one. Something had to be defective with Tristan --it couldn't be our parenting. What. A. Mind. Blow. Seriously? The very fact that we believed for a second that we had this parenting thing in the bag is enough proof that we (ok, especially me) are waaaay off our rockers! Tristan...GASP...is NOT Micah. Who knew?

Little did we know that the quote on Tristan's birth announcement would be the unfolding of God's plan for our family over the next year: "Little brother. Big blessing."
Yep sometimes the biggest blessings come in the smallest packages...and put a whooping on you like Mike Tyson until all the stubbornness is beaten out of you.

Truly, what would our lives be without these two little guys? (restful, predictable, lots of free time and sex)  It woud suck. These two boys who are as different as night and day have shaped our family into what God has intended. Micah makes us laugh and play. He's so laid back and easy-going like his Daddy and makes a friend of everyone he meets. Tristan is so incredibly tender. He loves to live life in the midst of his family. If you need a cuddle, he gives plenty. He is, however, very...um...passionate (in a i'll-just-scream-until-these-two-dummies-figure-it-out kinda way)...I'm not sure who he got that from. ahem. ahem. excuse me, I must have something in my throat.

One year down and the fun has only begun. We are committed to each other and to following Jesus even in seasons of trial. I am so thankful for a Jesus-loving husband who hopes in times of trouble and brings calm into my chaos. Our God is good all the time, no doubt. He is rocking our world and growing the heart of our family to better serve his Kingdom. Me and these boys. Praise Jesus, it's a good life.

Treasures in Jars of Clay...or Plastic Bottles

oh brother! what an incredibly challenging couple of days. Micah has finally begun to embrace potty training. it's true...when they are ready, they will let you know. he has been doing great all week both at school and home, even through naps and all night. then there was Friday.
our day began with an accident in baby brother's room. luckily...Tristan did not get peed on. :) but Micah slipped in it while trying to flee, fell hard to the floor and began to cry. i scooped up Tristan and removed him from the room, returned for Micah and set him in the tub, ran back to T's room to shut the door, and again to the bathroom to wash Micah who was still crying. before i know it T had made his way into the bathroom and was standing behind me with one hand splashing in the toilet water. i scoop him up, wash his hands and set him again out of the way. meanwhile Micah is still upset about having to be washed and arguing about my choice of soap, none of which i could care less about. this all took place in the matter of 5 minutes. my head spins just thinking about it.
we had one absolute "to do" errand for the day. getting everyone dressed, packed and out the door, however, not an easy task. it's like they had some sort of brother-code...conspiring against me. once i caught one to put on his clothes, the other would take off his shoes...or if i packed the blue sippy with a straw, Micah inevitably wanted the orange Diego instead...and worst of all...T's paci was M.I.A. (and still is). this process literally took an hour. i was already exhausted.
finally, i got those two things strapped into their seats in the Pilot and we were off. we enter the store and Micah goes into full sensory overload. i'm glad i wasn't planning on stealing anything because he left his grimy little prints all over the joint. by the sweet grace of God and nothing short of a miracle, i had not lost my mind yet. yet.
we make one stop to the potty because, frankly, Mommy forgot to pee before we left the house. at this point, Micah refused to go. Whatever. I'm not pushing the issue. we return to shopping and all is well. then i hear those words, "uh-oh Mommy!" i look up only to find my dear toddler standing in a puddle of tee-tee. awesome.
"don't move, Micah!" i left both of them ...ran to the bathroom for towels and back in seriously like 5 seconds (go ahead and judge). i laughingly told the young clerk, "dude, this just isn't your day. i'm sorry but my son had an accident. you're going to need a mop." and we march (or in Micah's case, waddle) out to the car for a wardrobe change. praise the Lord for my messy car where i found a spare pair of shoes! he had filled up the ones he was wearing pretty good and they had to come off. i'm trying to keep it together at this point. T is miraculously content in the stroller so i am able to lecture Micah about how he really needs to listen to his body, blah, blah, blah.
we re-enter the store. i mean, i have items to purchase here people. luckily, the clerk was very gracious about the whole fiasco. i left feeling...exhausted...did i already say that?
fast forward to post-nap(Micah, at least) snack time. I'm feeding T in his highchair in the kitchen while Micah has his snack in the TV room. then i hear those words, "uh-oh Mommy!" i look up only to find my dear toddler...naked from the waste down. "what are you doing?" he holds up a plastic Easter egg...i spot the puddle on the floor. "what did you do, Micah?"
"i tee-tee in egg"
whaaaaaaaat?
if it wasn't so dang funny, i definitely would have lost my marbles.
God spoke to me in that moment warning me not to be harsh with my words or actions. He opened my eyes to the inner thoughts of a sweet little 3 year old who exercised his curiosity. unfortunately, plastic eggs have holes in them. who knew?
Micah did earn another lecture. it went something like this:
me: where does tee-tee go, Micah?
M: in the potty
me: does it go on the floor?
M: no
me: does it go in an egg?
M: no
me: does it go on a bed? (he went on T's crib mattress on the floor of his room earlier today)
M: no, Mommy!
me: where does tee-tee go?
M: IN THE POTTY, MOMMY!

then there was Saturday. what a difference a day makes. Micah burst from his room to run to the potty. #1 and #2 in progress. Hooray! he did so well all day...for potty, that is...
i had to make a Target run for diapers and wipes. Micah asked to get out of the buggy which was fine as long as he stayed close where i could see him -- that's the rule. while in women's clothing, Micah entertained himself by 'hiding' in the clothes racks waiting for me to spot him and tickle him out. the game went something like, "where's Micah?" Micah giggles. "I got you!" tickle. tickle. "where's Micah?"...... "where's Micah?"..... "Micah?" ...."1...2...3...Micah!" ..."MICAH!"
begin panic mode.
i search all around the women's department then head to the front doors. i was sure that Micah had wandered off and was either ignoring me or was too far to hear, but in the chance that some perv snatched him, he wasn't getting past this Momma bear and out the front door. i explained to a store clerk that my child was missing and gave a brief description of Micah. he notified the employees there was a "code yellow" and repeated the description. again, i laughingly commented that he might want to check in toys because i was sure it was my son who was hiding and not an abduction. with the exits now secured, i headed to the toy department myself. and then i heard those words, "HI, MOMMY!" i look up only to find my toddler playfully wheeling a huge dump truck down the aisle. "COOL TRUCK!"
now i know this may come to a shock to some of you, but no tears were shed by yours truly during this whole process. my heart did return to its anatomical position in my chest after a brief hiatus in my throat, but there were no tears. there were hugs and a lecture.
we depart. Tristan strapped in...check. Micah str..."Mommy, i want to tee-tee on the sidewalk."
inner monologue<OMG, really? i mean, just make. it. stop.>
"um, no Micah. here pee in this bottle." <what? did i really just say that?>

and so he did.

he was quite proud of it if you can't tell. i may have been a little too. oh the irony of 'code yellow.'

on another note...i figure after these couple of days i may as well tackle yet another Goliath...sleep. Tristan's sleep specifically. after bath and a bottle instead of our nightly rocking/bouncing/humming/fighting ritual, i prayed out loud over Tristan and laid him down to cry it out.

and so he did.

35 loooooooooong minutes later. he passed out. i couldn't believe it. i really couldn't believe it only took 35 minutes. poor thing. self-soothing is one tough lesson to learn. so say a little prayer that he sleeps well and that this is the start of a new phase for him. (seriously. i beg you. please pray.) God love that little one.

Thank you Jesus for watching over my kiddos today...and every day. Thank you for instincts and the fight or flight response that sends enough adrenalin through the body to equip a Momma to walk through fire or lift a bus if it were to save her child. Thank you for your sense of humor...Easter eggs and all. Thank you for the will power to sit through 35 minutes of torture and especially for soothing on weary little creature. Thank you for your Word that reminds us of your love and the daily renewing of our souls that you offer. Thank you for teaching me EVERY day that you are in control, you are Father, and your ways are perfect.

2Corinthians 4:17-18

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eteranal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Amen.

Monkey Business

Today is our sixth wedding anniversary. It's also the first day of daylight saving time so our schedule is completely off. Tristan slept past 5:30am which is nothing short of miraculous. I slept in with him. (yes, we are still co-sleeping in case you were wondering. it's a beautiful thing) Greg and Micah headed off to church for 9:30 while T and I just stayed home. The plan was to meet out for lunch so that I wouldn't have to cook.
We met at the Grease Monkey burger joint downtown. I had never been there and was excited to finally try it out. Greg and Micah met us there. I noticed almost immediately that Micah was in 'big boy underwear' and not a pull-up (we had been working with him at home for the last two days with somewhat success). I commented to Greg about my discovery and he proudly replied, "I know." Apparently, Micah did really well all morning at church with no accidents. Sweet.
We were chatting over the menu trying to make a decision on our order when... oh no... his face. "Micah! What are you doing?" As if I didn't already know.
It was too late. A #2 was in full effect.
Luckily, I was holding the baby. Greg had to field this one. So I guess unlucky for Greg, I was holding the baby. :)
Meanwhile, several families we know from church entered the restaurant including some of Micah's favorite people -- the Hendricksons! Greetings, hugs and smiles were exchanged. I relaxed again knowing we were in familiar company.
After placing our order and finding a table, Micah felt called to the arcade machines. He entertained himself "playing" the games until our food was ready. When the games grew boring, Micah moved on to the stage where he entertained everyone with song and dance. Quite the Ham that boy is.
Greg came over with our order placing my salad in front of me. With one look I was disgusted to find black olives all over my chicken & strawberry salad. What? Olives were not in the description. (Gag) Who would do that? (Gag, Gag) Is this a joke?
Greg quickly removed the salad from my sight and asked the cook to remake it.
Phew! Close one. My stomach soon began to settle again.
Finally, Greg convinces Micah to climb into his chair to eat his lunch. He was pretty wound up so sitting at the table wasn't really what he wanted to do. I began reverse psychology. "Don't eat that burger, Micah. No. No." He loves this game and was soon gnawing down a bite. He then muttered something, smiled, and threw a piece of burger across the table! It barely missed me and splattered on the floor. Really?
Greg quickly removed Micah from my sight to have a 'come to Jesus' talk.
At this point, Tristan is fussing. I'm wiping bits of burger off the floor muttering...well, stuff. This is not the easy, no mess lunch we had envisioned. I can feel the stomach acid gurgling up my esophagus. ugh.
Then something heavenly happened...Micah returns to the table, crocodile tears streaking his face. He mutters to me, "I'm sorry."  Sweet repentant words from a precious three year old. Tristan's mood swung again and he was now happily wiggling in his highchair. Greg and I exchange glances and begin to laugh. and laugh. and laugh. Our life is so out of control! Who knew that a quick lunch out could hold so much adventure: a #2, black olives, crying and burger chucking! so glad I saved all the trouble of cooking at home. 

sleep

i hesitate to even say 'sleep' for fear that my 8 month old will pop awake at the mention of the word. yes, here we are...8 months into what will go down in the books as the sleepless era. in case you didn't know, my first child (aka the one i really love) is a natural-born sleeper. as i type this post, he is still sleeping as in went to bed last night and has not yet woken up...it's 2:18pm folks! have i told you how much i love that boy? he may grow to be a hellion of a teenager, but if he sleeps most of those years it just may be tolerable.
at first, i felt i could take credit for how incredibly micah slept. he slept through the night at 6 weeks old and rarely had to be rocked to sleep. we could just put him in his crib and he'd konk out. i felt like i'd conquered the baby wise techniques and wondered what all those other moms were whining about. realistically, micah came hard-wired to LOVE to sleep.
not so for little brother.
tristan is incapable of self-soothing. he has NEVER fallen asleep without a parade complete with a marching band and twirling batons. it's quite the production. he is, at this moment, asleep in his crib with my iphone blaring white noise. whatever it takes people.
what is funny (and by funny i mean sad ) is that here i am comparing these two little creatures like i swore i'd never do. one can't help but to compare experiences. it's how learn...a survival instinct, if you will. and here i am making all the same moves only to find they are useless. the force is strong with that little one. he's a fighter. i need a new strategy. so for the past few nights i've done another thing i swore i'd never do...co-sleep. yeah, i said it...and it left a bad taste in my mouth.
in my mind, co-sleeping has got to be a guaranteed way to ruin your kid for life...not to mention any chances of intimacy with that other guy who lives in my house. i think his name is greg but don't quote me on that. surely if i continue to allow this creature to sleep with me in my own bed he will get way to cozy and refuse to leave for like the next 10 years or until puberty makes it really awkward. but hey...at least we will be getting some rest...right?
honestly, i know very little about the techniques and side effects of co-sleeping. i'll google it soon. but for now...i'm getting some sleep.
by the way...2:47pm...micah's still snoozing. God bless him.

keepin it real

a friend of mine informed me that it had been a while since my last post. well, actually she said, "you suck at blogging." hmm. add that to the list. so here i am attempted a post to cover the last 5 months of life....uh...not even. just going to start where i am.
where i am is at home recovering from one doosie of a virus that may or may not have been a strand of meningitis. (i wasn't down with the needle in my spine just to find out) nonetheless, it was a mean sucker that sent me literally to my knees. funny thing...i find myself there quite often these days. see, recently some mommy friends and i have all realized just how much we "suck" at this whole task of life. these gals, myself included, all love Jesus. and to love Jesus you have to be perfect and pretty and put together. [X] wrong again. but for some reason we were all running around trying to live up to some retarded standard we set for ourselves and, well, just flat out pretending.
while i may not be perfect and unlike those other gals most days i am pretty amazing. most days i wake up with minty fresh breath, glamorously wavy hair, and a glow that doesn't need a touch of makeup. most days my three year old is fed all organic, homemade, healthy meals and snacks. most days my seven month old sleeps all night and remains happy and cooperative through any schedule of errands and outings the day may bring. most day my home is fuggedaboutit spotless and fashionably decorated like that of a snapshot from Living magazine -- everything in its place. most days my employer sets me on a pedestal as their prize employee. most days my husband and i coo over each smitten as the day we met. most days our intimacy is...well, you get the picture i'm painting here. i'm awesome.
ok, if you're still reading after all that hot air i just blew up your stack...here is what most days really look like in the meeks nuthouse:


my kitchen is in there...somewhere



ick...luckily this one is not a scratch & sniff picture



my 3 year old after kissing the sidewalk

i'll do anything to get this kid to sleep

cat napping with daddy

fat face

skinny face

i've been sick for 5 days & my household is in shambles-face

sigh....none of this is very flattering...i'm just keepin it real.