This time last year I wrote a post about our compost pile. We really love to compost and we even moved our pile with us when we bought our house. One thing about composting is that certain seeds will reproduce if you don’t grind them up. I’ve never ground up anything in our compost and so when we had pumpkin vines sprouting out of the dirt we just transported them to a garden. That is how we ended up with pumpkins this year. 

They were a small variety. Not big enough to carve or do much with. We still enjoyed picking them and decorating the front porch with them though. The kids would line them up in order of size and there just happened to be one pumpkin for each member of the family. 

That’s what gave me the idea to write our names on them. All of the small pumpkins are from our garden and the big one is from the pumpkin farm that we went to last weekend.

Each pumpkin (and even my attempts at cursive) has its imperfections. I like that part though. It makes them “perfectly imperfect” for us. *Some of you This Is Us fans know where I pulled that quote from. 

I would love to have a bail of hay and a scarecrow or some other little finishing touches, but shopping and money are two things that don’t come about too often around here. So I just pulled out the old yellow rocking chair that we salvaged from the dumpster and added a few bricks that were already on the porch. The kids were eager to gather some pretty leaves for me. 

It all came together quite nicely I’d say. 

My favorite part of the display is that if all goes well these pumpkins will also decompose to make more soil and more pumpkins for next year. That’s one of the things that is so great about the fall season. It’s a time of death of course, but you don’t have to look hard to see beauty in it.

Starting with Z, my husband J and I decided we needed to be intentional about having a one on one outing with each of the kids at least once a year starting at age 5. I explain more about why age 5 in this post: A Priceless Mother Son Outing.

Half of the “date nights” that I have had with Z were at Chic-fil-A for the mother-son events. 

We’ve always had a great time and look forward to it every year. They always make it so special. This year’s theme was Super Hero.

You have to have reservations to attend and when you arrive you sit at a decorated table and are waited on.  This year our server was Super Girl and we got to pick out a free dessert (two chocolate shakes please!) 

Outside of the playland was a transformation station.

This where the boys could walk into the “changing booth” and walk out as their favorite superhero!

Z got a batman slap bracelet, a cape, and mask.

He also got his face painted and we had to do the photo booth of course.

It was so much fun! 

I talked to Z about maybe changing it up next time and not doing mother-son night at CFA anymore. Next year I want to take Ezie because he will be 5. I could take both boys, most families come to the event with multiple children, but I want Ezie to get the experience that Z had with just being the two of us. Also, with very few exceptions, Z is the oldest one there. Every time we go to one of these events it’s almost all toddlers and preschoolers. Z still likes super heroes (who doesn’t?), but when he’s 11 is he still going to be into getting his picture with the cow? Maybe. Maybe not.

Listen I am not rushing him to grow up. BELIEVE ME! But he is already past the height limit for the playland and I think it’s a good time to move onto new adventures. 

I tend to think about these things because I am a big fan of closure. I wrote a blog post about it when we moved from Texas.

 I am a little neurotic about closure actually. When I was pregnant with Elle I had to know if that was my last pregnancy because I needed the closure. If someone leaves or hangs up the phone without saying goodbye I feel gypped. They don’t even have to do it to be rude, but I take it personally.If I have one bite left of dessert and the kids eat it, I’m upset because I plan my last bite. I want it to be a good bite. I prepare myself for the bite that will end the meal experience and I savor it differently than the second to last bite. I told you I’m weird.

All that to say I really cherished this final mother-son night at chic-fil-a with Z. I can’t wait for our next night out. 

Not everyone will relate to this.

Some people aren’t on social media or even if they are, they can ignore all the angry posts and contraversial debates without a second thought.

Other people love sharing heated political memes and shooting opinionated comments back and forth with people they don’t even know.

I for one, am NON-CONFRONTATIONAL. I hate conflict. Yet there a feisty little side of me (probably the French Canadian side) that gets really fired up about certain topics. So I have this inner turmoil when a subject hits a nerve on Facebook.

It’s like I have a cartoon angel on one shoulder and a demon on the other. This is their dialogue pretty much every single time.

For the record, I am not saying that it is unwise or immoral to speak up for your beliefs online. Nor do I think it’s wrong if you choose not to get involved. This is simply what goes through my head. The cartoon angel and demon are pretend but #thestruggleisreal.

Also, before you think this is all about the flag and then NFL I can assure you that it is not. I wrote this a long time ago when the debate was over gun laws, or was it police brutality? No wait I think it was when we were debating refugees? Or was it Target bathrooms? Okay, I can’t remember when I typed out this out, but I do know that no matter which debate it was, Donald Trump had something to do with it.

Oy. I think I have said too much. I should probably copy/cut and paste that.

This month’s inspiring mom is a guest post from Tiffany Williams. She has a such a phenomenal story of heartbreak, strength, perseverance and most importantly triumph. It is my pleasure to introduce you to this truly inspiring mom.

When Ken and I met it felt like perfect timing. I had already finished getting my master’s degree in theatre arts and Ken had a very successful career in technology sales. Life was grand.

Our favorite dates were spent eating out at fancy restaurants, traveling to fun locations, going to concerts, or just riding around in Ken’s BMW.

After tying the knot the next logical step for us seemed to be to start a family. So on our 1 year anniversary we decided to start trying, and I got pregnant right away. Panic set in. I wanted to be a mom in theory but I was really scared. I had a ton of dreams and goals for my life. One of my biggest core values is to live life to the fullest. New experiences, fun, and adventure are high on my priority list. I wanted to travel. Like everywhere. I wanted to star in a movie. I wanted to eat food from every continent. I wanted to salsa dance on Friday nights. I wanted to start a ministry. I wanted to speak to women on large stages. And though I liked kids, I liked them for short periods of time. And I really didn’t love babies. I pretended to. But let’s face it. I hated being spitup on, their piercing cries were deafening, and they couldn’t have a conversation or play a game with me=no fun. But after we lost our first baby to a fairly traumatic miscarriage, it was a like a switch flipped inside of me, and I was desperate to be a mom. I didn’t care about the extra work, the extra weight, the extra responsibilities. I just wanted a baby.

We had our first child, who had severe hearing loss and also some other significant special needs. My world was rocked. Life suddenly got really serious and really hard. A year later, I was pregnant again. My water broke with baby #2 8 weeks early. I spent 2 weeks on bed-rest in the hospital and then my sweet baby was in the NICU for weeks after that.

Life was HARD with two tiny babies, both with differing needs and neither who slept through the night. Then, one day it occurred to me that I ought to think about getting pregnant with our third and final baby soon—so that I wouldn’t be having the baby during the big spring musical I was directing. I thought, “I guess we could get pregnant this month or I’ll have to wait 6 more months.” On a whim, we decided to try to get pregnant that month.

WELL, much to my shock, it worked! I dropped that pee-ridden, positive pregnancy test and ran to look at the calendar. Wait a minute, does this mean…oh no. I am going to have 3 kids in 3 years! Tears streamed down my face. “I am not cut out for that, God,” I cried.

I will never forget looking at that first sonogram during my 12 week doctor’s appt, thinking to myself “3 kids in 3 years? Tiffany, you are going to die.” And then I heard my doctor say two little words that would change my life forever. “IT’S TWINS!”

My head went completely blank and all I could remember was the countless times that I had specifically told God, “whatever you do, please don’t give me twins.”

I was going to have 4 kids in 3 years. ME! The non-baby person. The person who wants to live life to the fullest. The person who slept til 11:40 every Saturday morning. I was going to have 4 little kids. What was God thinking?

Thankfully, I was reminded of a scripture early on in my pregnancy that says “2 are better than 1.” (Ecclesiastes 4:9) I kept telling myself that God must have a plan. This was not a mistake. This was not a setback. This was a promotion. I told myself that until I believed it. And I actually got excited about what was ahead.

My twins pregnancy was straight out of a Stephen King novel. Horrific at best. Everything that could’ve gone wrong did. I will spare you the gory details, but look up “worst case scenario” in the dictionary, and you will find my story.  In and out of the hospital 7 different times, trying to keep the babies from coming WAY too early, all kinds of nerve pain and PUPPS and anything else you can imagine. In the end, they came right on time, were healthy as horses, and weighed 7.5 lbs each. Yeah, I got huge. Eight days after I had them, though, I was rushed to the hospital, only to find that I was having heart failure. You heard me right. Congestive heart failure due to pregnancy. It is so rare that it took a few days for my doctors to even figure out what the heck was happening. I will never forget a doctor waking me up to tell me what was happening. I’d finally dozed off 17 straight hours of gasping for every breath. Not sure if I would be able to make it for one more second. The doctor said, “you won’t be able to have any more kids. And let me tell you that the odds aren’t in your favor. 33% of the women who have this don’t make it. 33% of them survive but have major issues—like heart transplants, a pace-maker, or other life-altering changes ahead of them. And 33% of the women will make a full recovery.” “What would it take for me to be one of the lucky 33%?” I asked. “You’ll have to rest your heart for the next 3 months. You will need someone helping you take care of your kids 24/7. You can’t sweep, mop, or lift children.” And the list went on. I smiled and said, “hey doc. Are you going to pay for that?”

We had no family within 2000 miles, but somehow, God provided enough help for us and I made a full recovery. My heart has never been better. God showed up for us in miraculous ways. Friends put together schedules and people would show up at my door with food, babysitting help, toys for the kids. I had several God-dreams that kept me encouraged. I even had an experience (during the worst part of the heart failure) where I went to heaven and heard heavenly music. It was 4-D. It breathed and was full of color. I have never seen or heard anything like it. God proved to me over and over that he was very real and he wasn’t going to let me down.

But then the real work began.  Raising 4 tiny kids. There was a time about a year into it that I literally collapsed and said, “I cannot do this for one more day. I have absolutely no more grace to be a stay at home mom of 4 tiny kids. One with significant special needs, another who is a freaking genius, and two twin babies.” People like to say stupid things like “God won’t give you more than you can handle,” but I just don’t think that’s true. There are lots of times in life where we’re confronted with more than we can humanly handle. But hey, that’s where God comes in. He says “my power is made perfect in weakness.”

In this time when I was so incredibly stretched beyond anything I could rationally do, I learned to rely on God like I’d never relied on him before. And he never let me down. He turned up again and again. In the midst of that time, I didn’t feel victorious. But looking back, I can’t believe what all I was able to accomplish. We traveled! Not often and it was mostly horrifically stressful, but we did it! I started my own successful business! I wrote a blog, I made new friends, I took my kids to playgroups. I SURVIVED! There were tons of stuff I didn’t do well, too. I always had mountains of laundry in our guest room, I never really cooked dinner. I wasn’t able to work out like I used to. Or ever. And I was far too addicted to caffeine. But I also learned to let go of the ridiculous standard I’d managed to set for myself and just do my best each day. At the end of the day, my best was enough.

The thing that really surprised me is that as hard as that season was, it was just that—a season. It didn’t last forever. It left almost as quickly as it came. This year, my 4 kids are all in school full-time for the first time ever. I blinked and suddenly, I went from changing 4 kids’ diapers every day to having 6 glorious me-filled hours every day to do all kinds of adventuring. My latest triumph is I’m attempting to eat at all of the restaurants that I’ve wanted to try for years but couldn’t because they didn’t have a drive through (and you know I was NOT going to drag 4 little kids into pretty much any restaurant. Too stressful!). So far, I’ve tried 12 of them!

You know how it feels when your hand goes numb but then the feeling slowly returns? That’s kind of how I’m feeling these days. Creativity, innovation, and space to dream are slowly returning to me. And then I’m oh so happy to see my kids’ faces when I pick them up every day at 1:55.

Another thing that people say that used to make me mad is this, “enjoy every moment while your babies are little. It goes by too fast.” I usually wanted to throw a poopy diaper into the person’s face. I think a better way to say it is this, “each season is complete with something to celebrate and something to grieve.” As we enter motherhood, we are excited to get to know our baby! We are so blissfully blessed at the privilege of being a mom. But at the same time, we are grieving the loss of our former self. Our freedom. Our abilities. The relationship we had with our husbands. It’s a lot of change, and that’s hard. It is true that it is important to enjoy every moment. We MUST find something to enjoy every day, even the ones that end in tears, or we will regret it. But at the same time, we must also recognize what it is that we’re grieving and give that attention too. Or else we will become bitter and we can even take it out on our kids! But the trick is to spend more time enjoying than grieving. Because seasons always change. They go so fast. And they can be so good.

I just finished the book Present Over Perfect by Shauna Niequist and it really got me thinking. Her book about “leaving behind frantic for a simpler, more soulful way of living”  hit me like a ton of bricks. Unlike Shauna I don’t have ample career opportunities that I have to turn down. The problem for me is that sometimes I wish I did.

There is a chapter in the book called “Must Be Nice” where Shauna recognizes that she is struggling with jealousy toward a friend. She picked up on it when she realized that her constant refrain about her friends’ life was, “Must be nice”. It’s funny because as I read about Shauna’s life I think to myself “must be nice”. It must be nice to be able to hop on a plane and get away. It must be nice to speak with other women. I am not even talking about on a platform or a major conference! I’m thinking it must be nice to have an uninterrupted adult conversation on a regular basis or to be a paid blogger and a writer. Or to have a babysitter. That MUST BE NICE.

The irony of my envious thoughts is that the book was mainly about Shauna shifting her priorities to make her life more like mine! She wanted to stay at home with her kids more. She wanted to spend less time obsessing over the perfect condition of her home. She wanted to place her career in the backseat so that she could really focus on being a wife and mom.

As I read about her desires I recognize that as my world. I am a full-time wife and mom and I live a very simple life with the focus being on our home and family. I don’t resent it, but I do feel like I could be doing MORE. If only I could contribute more financially. If only I could be a better house keeper. If only I had time I would focus more on my dream career. The book really convicted me about my wishful thinking and allowed me to see that what I am doing is not only enough, but it’s priceless. Some of the most successful people in the world can’t buy what I am giving to my kids and that is a childhood that is rooted in a solid faith filled home with a loving family who are deeply connected.

It sounds really aspirational when I say it that way, but now back to the part where the grass is always greener on the other side.

You see, I have a little obsession.  If you have a chance to speak with me in person for any length of time you will hear me talk about the NPR podcast “How I Built This”. I love that podcast and second to that is Shark Tank. I’m the first to admit my fascination with entrepreneurs, business launching, and rags to riches stories is a little random. I think it’s my form of escapism. Most housewives watch the Bachelor or read romance novels to escape. I think all that stuff is gross. Instead, you may catch me reading about how to hustle your way to success while downing a bowl of ice cream and signing permission slips. To each their own.

I get so inspired by entrepreneurs that beat the odds! It’s my dream to launch something that could be revolutionary! I have so many ideas, but here I am in bondage in my own home, a slave to nap time and carpools. Melodramatic tone aside, sometimes I beat myself for not being able to accomplish more.

This book really helped me to see the value in what I am doing right now. I felt like it let me off the hook for not hustling enough while being at home with my kids.

Yesterday I listened to the latest episode of How I Built This. It was about the guy that started Edible Arrangements. It is an incredible story. Tariq Farid came from a family of immigrants. He worked three jobs at a time as a teenager and turned all the money into his family to make ends meet. When he was 17 he invested in a rundown flower shop and the story goes from there. I was blown away by his vision, drive, and success. “Must be nice”. But then there’s a part of the show where the host asks Tariq about his family and some of the sacrifices he made. Tariq says  “There is a price that you pay [directly referencing his divorce and children] I think the biggest thing that you look back at and you wish you did it differently is probably the children because I don’t think they understand.They don’t care if you’re rich or poor. They just want your time and they want your love” That part really convicted me. I was already feeling like there was confirmation through the book validating my personal choices as a stay at home. As Jesus said in Mark 8:36 What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, but forfeit his soul.

The tagline for my blog is “Making the best of what looks like a mess” and this quote from “Present Over Perfect” is about that very thing.

Shauna says “I was faced with a dilemma- one so many of us face quite often: I could either wrestle my life and my kids and my house and our Christmas into something fantastic, something perfect… Or I could plunk myself down right in the middle of the mess and realize that the mess is actually my life, the only one I’ll ever get, the one I’m in danger of missing completely, waiting around for fantastic.”

I choose mess.

As I’ve mentioned a million times, all 4 kids have different schools/schedules this year.

Elle has no school so she stays home with me of course and she doesn’t even need therapy anymore.

Ezie is in a preschool (afternoons) Monday through Thursday down by where we used to live.

SJ starts 2nd grade and this will be her final year at her deaf school which is in a nearby city.

Z is going into 4th grade at a local public school.

There were so many unknowns as to how all of this was going to pan out. Today is the first day of school for the boys and I am so happy to report that everything is falling into place perfectly.

Ezie has the same teacher he had for speech therapy last year and she is great. He will also be riding the bus for the first time and he is so excited about that. Lastly, he was given a barely used Ninja Turtle backpack. Ezie loves Ninja Turtles and needed a backpack, so that was such a blessing. Now I can officially check all of those concerns off of my list.

SJ will also be riding the bus for the first time. I’ve met the bus driver and she’s so sweet. SJ is super duper pumped and talks about riding the bus all the time. I already know all of her teachers and it’s a fantastic lineup. As far as a backpack, my mom got her a Shopkins one because that’s her favorite. More little details crossed off my list!

Lastly, Z is starting a new school. The faculty and everyone has been great. There are even two boys in his class from his old school. This is unheard of, but a huge relief for the new kid. Since the little kids are riding the bus I will be able to drive Z to and from school and still get back in plenty of time to be at the bus stop for Ezie and SJ.

Whew, I can wipe the sweat off of my brow. Awesome teacher? Check. Transportation? Check. Backpack? Check!

I keep on mentioning backpacks because it’s a big deal. When you have a large family on one income, starting out the school year can be tough. Over the years we have had to humbly accept help in different areas, like the free lunch program or supply fee waivers. Thankfully we aren’t in that place anymore, but we aren’t totally out of the woods yet. Z still gets a discount on school lunches and for the past 5 years has received a donated backpack.

I mention this for two reasons. Some of you are probably donating backpacks and there are probably a few of you that are receiving them. If you are struggling to get supplies for your family because you have limited resources there is no need to be ashamed. It is okay to ask for help. I know what it’s like to sit in church and watch the backpacks come in for those “poor needy” kids knowing that your child is secretly one of them. You don’t have to be in a homeless shelter to need a little assistance. Did you know that for a family of 5 you can make up to $53,000 a year and still qualify for reduced lunches? What is a reduced lunch? It’s a lunch for your child that cost 40 cents and you can get breakfast for 30 cents!

It costs hundreds of dollars to send our kids to publicly funded schools. This year we will pay $150 in supply fees and that’s not including backpacks, supplies, shoes, clothes etc. For some of us that is a lot of money, especially all at once. And believe me, I am not complaining. I love our schools and would pay more for my kids to go there. It’s my desire to make big donations to the schools and teachers one day because it’s worth it. What they do for our children is invaluable. However, I am not at that place right now. We are a one income family with special needs children and we are doing everything we can just to make ends meet from month to month. To get that free back pack with almost all of the supplies in it is something that helps lift some of the burden around this time of year and I am extremely appreciative. When Z accepted his plain Walmart backpack from the school office the other day he marveled at all the pockets. He was so grateful for the donation and he will take good care of it. When his sister saw it she said “Wow that is a cool back pack!”

So if you need a backpack or assistance for your kids to go back to school I hope it is encouraging to know that you are not alone. I can assure that this is only a season. And if you donated a back pack or school supplies this year. Thank you. You have surely been a blessing.