My 42 year old 7th grader

No, I am not currently in 7^th grade.

No, I did not get held back.  Although, it might look that way given my horrible grammar and punctuation offenses. 

And no, my 7^th grader does not possess the maturity level of a 42 year old (20-something on some days and 2-something on others…take your pick).

So maybe it should read ‘My INNER 42 year old 7^th grader’ – that’s probably more accurate. 

Quite frankly, I am feeling a little duped here.  I completed 7^th grade…let’s just say, a long time ago, ok?  I, as I like to say, 'did my time'.  I dealt with ‘mean girls’, I got made fun of by the boys, and lemme tell ya - being a redhead back in those days, was just one more source of material to be ridiculed.  Much scarring BUT, I am no worse for the wear.  My baggage coordinates and I've had years of counseling - HA!!!  Suffice it to say, I have had my share of feeling awkward and left out, not being included in the ‘cool’ stuff. 

Did. Done. Over. 

Thank you very much.

BUT WAIT!!!!  I have a 7^th grader now!  

And 

What. 

A. 

JOY it is to RELIVE it all! 

O. M. W!!!

It’ll be a miracle if either of us live through this. 

But I digress.  

It’s a shame really.  You graduate from high school, you think, “Aahhh…finally.  I can redefine who I am!  Goodbye to Buffy (I didn’t even change her name to protect her.  Buffy.  That. Was. Her NAME!!!!  Good heavens).  Good bye Trent, you studly jock who will be bald at our 10-year reunion!!  Good. Bye.” 

And I’m sure they’re off, living their lives (wait, let me get their FB status…just kidding).  I imagine Buffy is no longer a cheerleader and Trent, indeed, lost some of his hair.  THAT SAID, now it’s Meg’s, the Shelby’s and the Lucy’s (these names WERE changed – they are children for peet’s sake).  It never occurred to me that the mean girls and the jocky-jocks would REPRODUCE and (sheesh o’ live) raise miniature versions of themselves!  And why not?  That’s what I am doing!!! 

Let me tell you – it’s one thing to go through it and be on THIS side of the equation.  It is quite another to WATCH your child wallow through the mucky-much of it all.  Truly gut wrenching.  The exclusions from the ‘cool’ kid outings, to listen to what the mean girls say to your child, not to mention what she overhears those girls say to other kids.  Dare I say, it’s like living through it all over again.  Hence, The 42 year old 7th Grader.  Ouch.

And there in lies the beauty of it all.  While I want to punch the occasional adolescent in the face for their ignorant behavior, or when I exercise self-control while I try NOT to roll my eyes at the umpteenth story on the latest crush (gag me), I can provide the wisdom and hope for my 7^th grader.  She welcomes it so well too, she loves to listen to my inspirational droning...sigh (just kidding…she, too, humors me in listening and is working on that whole self-control of the eye rolling – hee hee)

Let me just say – parenting is NOT for sissy’s.  It is a fine balance between the mama bear that wants to roar on up to the school and tell the Meg/Shelby/Lucy what their dismal future will be if they continue to generate such negativity.  But the real kicker is that THEY are muddling through it too! They just are not doing it very nicely AND it's at the expense of my child, yes??  (And here's another question - does THEIR mom think / know that they're raising the mean girl?)  

Being a mom to my three girls and having the adult relationship I have now with my own, the whole thing is quite…beautiful.

How did MY mom not want to cut my life short on a DAILY basis?  I was ten times worse than my kiddo.

How did she watch and have to just…well, watch, as I figured it all out?

It’s one thing to watch your baby get their bearing, figure out those legs as they learn to walk and take a few falls.  A few tears, kisses to make it all better.  It’s quite another to walk with your pre-teen through the matters of the heart, as they work it all out, take a few falls – kisses are all well and good, but for the life of me…it hurts.  It hurts to watch, but oh so necessary.

And I love it.  (most days – let’s not get too la-dee-dah here, I’m a realist!)

I once heard somewhere… I GET TO!!  I GET TO go through this with my girls.  It IS hard. There ARE days I think my eyes WILL get stuck in the back of my own head!  And yet, I was the one assigned, hand-picked, if you will, to help these three, precious girls.  

What' is even better - I get to simultaneously kiss bruised knees AND bruised hearts!!!  

Muddling through...

Humbled, buoyed and blessed -

Mama Fox

Get To

Several years ago I started asking people, "What do you get to do 40 hours a week?" And they would give me a funny look. It would take them that split second to process the question, "OH!  You mean, where do I work / what do I do for a living?" 

Well, ok, where do you work?

Then, when I started asking women, "Do you get to work outside of the home or do you get to stay home?" Again...perplexed.

What is this 'GET TO' nonesense that you speak of?

Now, I'm not a complete la-lee-la head. I realize that there are those of us out there that 'have to' work in order make ends meet.  (Truth be told, probably most of us).  Many of us don't live, like in the Secret Life of Walter Mitty (a FANTASTIC movie, if you've not yet seen it - go. Now. Go watch it. It is WONDERFUL!!  And be sure to look for all of the hidden messages!)

But, I digress. 

As I was saying, most of us cannot just up and live out our life dreams (for example, I'm to old to audition for So You Think You Can Dance and taking off to New York in order to live out a dance career on Broadway seems a little, uhm, radical. Pursuing culinary school sounds pretty dreamy (and expensive), however, as you might recall two posts ago, I got knocked up in 2012...just. sayin'.). Those of you out there that 'get to' live your life in a complete-and-total-choosing kind of way, hats off to you! However, those of us that are working the 9 - 5 grind, may I encourage you to take a different approach to your mindset? If not the 9 - 5 grind, perhaps you're the mom-at-home wondering how on God's green earth changing another diaper is going to change the world for the greater good!? I understand all to well. But, do you realize that YOU are the one that 'gets to' change that diaper? YOU are the one that 'gets to' work that 9 - 5? 

No one else. 

YOU.

And then there are the daily encounters we have, encounters that we 'get to' be a part of.

Recently, I was on the interstate, griping about the incredibly bumpy road. "UGH! I can't wait until they get this road paved!!" Immediately my thoughts were taken to dusty, dirt, pot-holed roads around the world. Ah...I 'get to'  drive on this bumpy road.

Not again. Food order / coffee order wrong?! Wait...I 'get to' eat / drink this food / coffee. People, merely blocks away, do not have the luxury of a meal, let alone your pricey coffee. Reel it in Fox.

5:30a...ugh...I'm so tired!! I just want to sleep...wait...I 'get to' get up at this hour, in my home, with a/c. Somewhere, there are people without homes, be it loss to fire, storm, flood, or some other disaster. I am prett-ee fortunate.

I've nothing to wear!!! Everything is so out of date!!! (sigh) Wait...I 'get to' have an abundance of choices. It's not that I don't have anything to wear, it is that I'm overwhelmed with a ridiculous amount of choices. (now, out of date...that may very well be true, but the 80's ARE making a come back. I'm sure of it!! HAHAHA!!)

Trust me, I've not mastered this skill set. I complain and gripe on a fairly regular basis (I'm pretty sure it's one of my spiritual gifts - ha!).  Yet, if I can, just once or twice, during a day turn my tune from 'I have to..." to "I get to...", I will feel a smidge successful in transforming my mindset.

And on that note, what do YOU 'get to' 

do / go / eat / wear today?

I would love it if you posted on my Facebook the answer to that question. Let's start a movement!!  HEY!!!  We 'get to' start a movement!!  HAHA!!

Humbled, buyoued and blessed
MamaFox

What's Right?

disclaimer: I am terrible with grammar.  I do not profess to be a 'writer' of sorts.  I write like I talk.  I suppose, those that read and know me well, can probably 'hear' me saying what I write.  If you don't know me that well, or have never had a conversation with me, please overlook the typos.  Thank you :-)

I sat down this morning to greet my day.  Some call it a 'quiet time (QT).' I actually just reintroduced my quiet time, as having Jaelyn (per my last post) threw me off my game.  Now that she's caught onto the whole sleep thing, I'm rolling out of bed before the chaos of our daily life ensues.  There's just something about the quiet of that time of day.  

Let me digress a moment.  

I feel so led to share about quiet times. 

In the church-y circles in which I hang, it is encouraged that we, as Christians, 'have a QT' on a daily basis.  You'll hear things like,  

"My QT was really rich!" 
or 
"They've been so dry lately, I feel like I'm not connecting." 
or 
"(sigh) I really should DO a QT, but I just don't know how / what to do." 

And it can become a racket!  It can become the litman's test of where you rank 'as a Christian' among fellow Christians.  (tsk, tsk...'She's not having a QT? Hhhmmm...<eyebrow raised>)  You follow me?  

THAT SAID...I was on a roll a few years ago.  I started the Jesus study by Beth Moore (90 day study) and that really launched a consistent, daily, greet-the-day-with-God routine.  Some days / weeks were rich and great. Some...eh...pretty mediocre, but nonetheless, it was the practice and the quiet that was important.  It is actually what got me through our Jordan Journey in 2009.  Fast forward, baby, sleepless nights...etc.

could. 
not. 
get. 
it. 
together!  

SO...I asked (in prayer), "HOW do you want me to do this, Lord?"

***we interrupt this post for a 

non-emergency announcement***

When using terms like 

"I was told..."
"Felt led..."

in reference to God / Abba / The Lord 'speaking' to me, it is

not to imply that a text was sent from above or that I heard

an actual, audible voice.  Again, in our church-y type circles,

it's a figure of speech.  Christianese, if you will...heehee  

***this non-emergency announcement 

is now over - thank you***

And he told me.

     You have the Jesus Calling Devotion.

     It has passages at the end of each one.

     You have three questions that Pantego provided months ago.

Hhmmm...ok, got it.

Read the JC devo, look up the passages, answer the questions.  I can do that.

Set my alarm for 5a.

It went off.

I hit snooze until 7a, like any decent human being would do.  

And the Christian Guilt set in, feeling like a failure.  (sigh)

Let's try this again...

2:00...AM...as in, IN the morning, my oldest comes in, having had an awful dream.  I went to lay down with her for a few minutes, then walked back to my room.  I stood at my bedroom door, but I sensed that 'nudge' to go and do my QT.  Here's the conversation in my head:

"(sigh) It's 2 o'clock...IN THE MORNING!!!" 

"I'm aware of the time, Kim.  I created it."

"You can't possibly be serious!  Can't you see how tired I am?"

(as I make my eyes drowsy...like a child...see, see...I'm so sleepy)

"Yes, but you told me you wanted to do this.  If you take time now, you can sleep a little more later."

"But...I'm so tired.  Besides, what are we going to talk about?"  

And I crawled into bed...for about 5 seconds.

"You'll never know unless you obey this nudge."

Out to the chair I go, stomping like the proverbial 40-something child, maybe even pouting a little bit; just a little.

And wouldn't ya know it?  FanTabULous time with my Abba.  

I was led to pray for some friends serving in a remote area.  

I prayed for some friends that are in marriage crisis.

I prayed over my family and God brought to mind people I don't know that well, so I prayed for them too.

He even made a joke when I wrote in my journal, 

"2AM?  Really?  I was thinking more like 5AM"  

And he said, "I AM the great I AM!"  

Get it?!  HA!!!  Love. It!

But this was the kicker.  This was 'my sign' - if you will.  At church that morning, I open my bulletin and inside was...

The card with the three questions.

The card that has not been IN the bulletins for several weeks.

Talk about complete and total affirmation.

Lovely.  

Nice.  

Thank you, Kim for that tirade about QT's and rubbing in how spiritual you are touting to be...la-dee-dah (sigh).

What about this post title, 'What's Right?'

Get to the point!!

If I had not started a week ago, I would have missed the richness of this morning's quiet time.  I'll fess up, since my 'ah-ha' moment two weeks ago, my quiet times have been 'eh.'  This morning though, the following nugget was impressed upon my heart.

How often do you ask, throughout the day, "What's wrong?"  

I do.  

I see a cross look on someone's face and I ask, "What's wrong?"  

Someone sighs heavily, "What's wrong?"  

One of my girls rolls their eyes...oh wait, that's normal...ha!!! 

What if we all started asking...wait for it...

What's Right?

How would that transform a day?  Your thoughts?  THEIR thoughts?

What's Right?

I'll tell you what's right in my world:

My health.

My freckles.

My red hair (all three compliments of da Lord who made me!)

A husband that loves me enough to buy me perfume 'just because' (or maybe I just stink...)

Bright, terrific daughters that are responsible and helpful.

My mom who has been a supportive, helpful & loving since the first time she laid eyes on me.

Coffee.  

Friends.

Facebook, that allows me to connect with friends near and far.

Quiet times. (amen, right?!)

Pampered Chef.

Cell phones.

My sweet Rottie's!

I could go on and on, but I already have.  

As you go forward, I encourage you to begin asking, 

What's right?

Humbled, Buoyed and Blessed,
Mama Fox

WHAT are the three questions, Kimberly?!!?!?!  

Ok, ok...I'll tell you:

1)  How has God made Himself known to you today?

2)  How is God changing you today?

3)  What is God calling you to do today?

can be found on www.pantego.org / I take no credit for these

Knocked Up at 41...what the?!?!?!

Excuse me while I dust off my keyboard...it has been a L-O-N-G time, yes??  So much for my 'regular' postings.  If I've learned one thing, tell everyone what I'm going to do and I'm guaranteed to fail...miserably.  (sigh)  That said, there have been some prett-ee big changes in my life since we last met / read / 'spoke.'

Let's begin with getting knocked up at 41.  Ok...ok...'knocked up' seems flippant.  It felt that way though.  Like that sheepish teenage; embarrassed and feeling...for lack of better words, stupid.  Caught.  A life sentence.  I'll be honest, I was the eye-roller, standing in the corner every time I'd hear a woman say, "He/She was our little 'surprise." or "It was completely unexpected."  Arms crossed, exercising my spiritual gift of judging other, "Doesn't she KNOW how...I mean, really...I mean..."

Oh.

Tee-hee.  

Oops.

Meet Jaelyn.  March 15, 2013.

Let's rewind...

July 2012, brushing my teeth.  HHmmm...something is missing. What day is it?  When was my last...D-OH!!!!  Did the pee-stick, went to the doctor THAT DAY for the blood test.  Yep.  Positive.  Kept my mouth shut all weekend.  

Sunday morning, my husband, "We need to decide if we are going to try again or if we're done."  

I kept from laughing outloud.

Yes, indeed...we really should talk about whether we should try to get pregnant...oh wait.  I already am!  Said me, in my head. 

I smiled and agreed.  Like any good wife would do.  "Yes, we really should pray about that."  AAAAaaaahhhhh....!!!!

So, Monday, I wrote on a piece of paper a projected date of our baby-to-be and slipped it in with the rest of the mail.  The baby, that, quite frankly, I was a little ticked off about having taken residence in ma belly!!!  I was JUST losing the OTHER baby fat...sigh.

My Joel is looking through the mail.  The girls between us, mixing muffins.  I'm just watching, like a stalker.  He sees it.

"March 2013?" he says.  (apparently I'm only allowed to have babies in March)

I just stare at him.  Actually, it may have been a glare...my memory is foggy.

"March...are you pregnant?!"  Yes, it was definitely a glare.

I. Just. Nod.

Those big blue eyes I fell in love with - wide.  Jaw - dropped.

The girls SQUEAL!!!

Me, not so much.  I happen to have a very clear idea of what's ahead.  That I better come up with a 'How to Bottle Sleep' app, in the next nine months. Visualizing the diapers, the baby food, nursing...you get my drift.

Might I also add the added dread of what may or may not happen. Those of you just tuning in, we have a history of loss.  I lost our son, Jacob, five months into that pregnancy.  I had two miscarriages after that (one at 12 weeks, one at 8).  I carried Jordan to full-term; discovered the heart defect the moment her umbilical cord was cut.  5 1/2 weeks later, having never come home, I kissed her sweet forehead as she passed from her daddy's arms here to her Daddy in heaven.

I was terrified of what was to come.

Terrified.

But, like all mommy's, I put on the brave face and grew that baby.

A few weeks from her delivery, we sat around the kitchen table.  I had us all write out our fears.  They ranged from down syndrome, to loving the baby more than Sydney and Madelaine, to another complete loss.  We talked.  Cried.  Prayed.

Then lit 'em on fire in the BBQ.  Left it all at the alter, so to speak.

And on March 15, 2013, after a few hours of labor; mournfully deciding to go through with a C-section, and 35 attempts in my back for the spinal (not. kidding.) Jaelyn Bryant Fox made our family of four a family of five.

She was perfect.

Big blue eyes.

Beautiful red hair.

Healthy.

Pretty sure I breathed for the first time in nine months.

The months that followed, I still wrestled with the lot cast on my life.  I decided to stay home with Jaelyn, as I had with my older two.  Here I was, in the throws of diapers, nursing-on-demand and going on little sleep.  No longer 'in demand' at a job or a feeling of importance (how would they go on without me!?).  Home bound to tend to this baby girl.  I knew I was 'supposed' to be so grateful for her, given our detour in 2009.  Quite the contrary, I was feeling selfish and shallow.  I often had friends say, "I'm SO GLAD I'm not you!!!  I can't imagine having a baby!!!"  YOU can't?!  

At about six months, I got it...I fell head over heels in love with her.  I get teary eyed as I think about the tremendous second (third? fourth?) chance I have been given.  I can be slow on the uptake.  

And today - 17 months in - I am thrilled to be the mom of three earth bound girls.  I'm in my element, chasing around a soon-to-be toddler.  I go from advising my 12y on the finer elements of how to navigate through life to 'NO BITING!  NO HITTING' (wait, or is it the other way around....ha!!)

It is a bit daunting to know that I'll be bidding farewell in six short years to my oldest.  I would swear that I watch her mature and grow right before my eyes, like time-elapsed film.  I see my middlest doing her best to figure out where she fits in - exercising her fabulous strong will and personality.  And then I look over my shoulder and am reminded at how quickly it all passes.  I've always hated that cliche, "They grow up before ya know it!"  But as much as I hate it, it's absolutely true.  Just yesterday I was chasing Sydney and Madelaine around, now THEY'RE chasing a smaller version of themselves around!  How did this happen?!

Oh...wait...never mind.  

I know.

(insert eye rolling)

Humbled, buoyed and blessed -
Mama Fox

Who. Am. I?

His feet were unstable.  Her heart was unstable.

He wore his helmet.  She wore her head covering.

His mouth hung open.  Hers was in a hard, concerned line.

(sigh) I sat behind a handicap bus recently, watching all of this unfold.  Of course, I was in an uber hurry, disgusted that I had to wait a mere ten minutes (probably less, but felt like an eternity) for this to all unfold. (enter emoticon – eyes rolling)

Then I paused.

I got up that morning, and heard the sound of my daughter’s alarm clock.  Within a half an hour both of my healthy, full-functioning girls were in the kitchen, packing their lunches, their backpacks, getting their breakfast ready.  1-2-3…like clockwork.

My heart ached inside, literally, as I imagined what this mother’s morning may have been like…of course, I speculate as I write the following, so bear with me.  Obviously, I wasn’t there.

Up much earlier than her son, having to go in and wake him up.  How was that?  Is he easy to get out of bed?  Is he potty-trained?  Does he know he’s about to go to school, out of the protective wing of his mother? 

Getting dressed – was he able to do this all by himself?  Does she struggle to dress this young man, triple the size of a toddler, but probably having the mentality of one.

Breakfast – she probably had to feed him.  Does he eat easily?  Does he throw his food?  Is he even capable of eating by way of his mouth?

If you could have seen her face…the concern, the dread, her self-doubt, “Am I doing the right thing?”  I have no way of knowing if this was his very first time on the bus, first time to go school.  By the look on her face, I’d venture to say ‘yes.’ 

I’m brought back to earth with thoughts, again, of my own, smooth morning.  No longer miffed at the delay of waiting; rather I was given precious time to pray – over this woman that, other than being dressed differently and perhaps facing more daily challenges than I do, we are no less different - often concerned - am I doing the right thing?  Did I show enough love?  Are they going to be ok? 

I was so moved by God’s intervention that morning; I had no choice but to push pause on my own life and take an inventory.  We all face our own doubts, struggles, ups and downs as mom’s, don’t we?  Those that have forged ahead <having grown children> give us hope.  Those of us in the throws of it all, we lock arms and nod, “YES!!  I UNDERSTAND!!”   

Most of you know that I’m a self-proclaimed ‘Hugger.’ I wanted to embrace her and offer a word of encouragement (sigh), but I get enough, “Are you crazy?” looks throughout any given day. She was already preoccupied enough without a complete stranger leaping from her car, running towards her.

I’m struck with two things from this divine pause.  One – while she and I looked very different (she clearly practiced a different form of faith than I do), we weren’t really all that different.  We are both mom’s, we both love our children, we both want what is best for them.  Second – interruptions.  Her entire life was interrupted when she was given her son, mine was hiccuped for but a few minutes.  Who. Am. I? 

I leave you with this – the next time you see another mom look differently than you (does she OWN a mirror?  Where is the rest of her skirt?  I’ve got two of my own, why do I need to look at hers?  you KNOW what I'm talkin' about!) Or maybe your day is interrupted by someone else (the nerve, don't they know I have a schedule...a job...a LIFE!), I’ll just bet you’re not all that different from her.  Deep down, she loves her child (ok…she’s using gritted teeth…but who hasn’t?).  Take pause and reflect on your own list of blessings and in that same moment offer some spiritual hugs.

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT have any of this mastered by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m sure glad God flicks my brain on occasion, tugs my heart and gently reminds me that I am no better / worse than that mom next to me.

Humbled, buoyed and blessed –

MAMA FOX

Marvel in the Moment

“Let’s go to the park buddy.” She said to her son as she picked him up from preschool that day.

SWOOSH.  I was whisked back a few years, to the days where the park and snack bags were common place.  I am actually misty-eyed as to the simplicity that has escaped our lives.  (sigh) 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to ‘miss the back days’ (as my youngest calls them), but there is a place in our lives to reflect on what ‘was’.  It’s a little surreal to see how life evolves, moving ever so quickly forward.  Mind boggling.

Then I watched a teeny little toddler running around…were mine really ever that small?  Gone are the days of sippy cups (and believe you me, I do not miss 'em!).  My oldest is almost as tall as me, my youngest can drive me from happy to frustration in 0 - 60! (can I get an ‘AMEN’?)

So where is the inspiration here?  I dare not cliché this with ‘enjoy those years now…’ or the ever popular, ‘it goes so fast!’  While we should and it does, my encouragement is to simply be in the moments – regardless of age or height (yours or your kids, if you have 'em!) 

Regardless if you have smaller people that you’re screwing up…I mean, training for the ‘real world’.  I have missed moments to marvel – while I certainly do marvel at my girls, do I pause long enough to marvel at my Abba?

Does Abba marvel at me? (perhaps…on some of my better days)

Do I send Abba from 0 – 60 flat with utter frustration?  (without a doubt)

Let’s take time – marvel in the moment(s)

Be present in the present.

That’s all really. 

Humbled, Buoyed and Blessed

MamaFox

Hot Yoga

If you know me, you know that I love me so hot-ness; I relish our 100 degree summer days and I can even tolerate a sauna on occasion.  Both of those require the energy of a gnat; sitting.  Doing little, but read.

Enter this concept – Hot Yoga.  WHO thought of this?!  SOMEONE (or several someone’s) sat around and apparently thought the traditional 60 minutes in a coolish room while bending our bodies in crazy poses just was too…weird?  “I KNOW, I KNOW” one said, “let’s crank up the temperature, to, say, 100 degrees and THEN bend ‘em in those crazy positions.”  And so they did. 

W-H-A-T?!  (sigh)  Anyway…so I did it, Hot Yoga – check.

Have you ever sweated from your HANDS?!  Or…uhm…toes?!  Anyway, there is a whole lot o’ sweatin’ goin’ on, and it was totally worth it.  Even after waves of nausea and near fainting, it was worth it. 

SO…WHY am I telling you this?  I want to encourage you to try something new.  I am not a yoga fan (could’ve used a fan today…but, I digress), but Hot Yoga was my ‘something new’ and I am really glad that I did.  What will YOUR something new be?  Would you shoot me a wall post on FaceBook and tell me what ‘something new’ you did (or did recently)? 

Before I close, I want to thank my friend (you know who you are) that urged me to get back on my BLOG.  Her words, “Uhm…by the way, missie, I follow your blog and you haven’t written in some time.” (eyebrow raised for emphasis -HA!). 

Just as Hot Yoga energized me, so did writing this tonight.  Albeit, not all that 'enlightening', I hope it brought a smile to your face. 

I look forward to your wall post.

I will, also, make a committment to post more often. 

Humbled, Buoyed and Blessed,

Mama Fox