It’s amazing when life comes full circle!

richard and jarek_together!!!!!!

This beautiful soul with my husband is one of my favorite people in the entire world.  And I know a lot of people all over the world.

This man, let’s call him the English name Jared, hugging Richard is one of the FIRST men that ever walked into our soup kitchen in Poznan, well over a decade ago.  LONG before I even had my first child (and she is a decade plus 2).

In fact, after we returned with Adelyne to Poznan/Poland, at around 5 weeks old, bringing her to our soup kitchen around 6-10 weeks old, HE was actually one of the first to hold our baby.  At our soup kitchen.  In Poland. It was the Holy Start soup kitchen (HS closed a couple years ago).

This beautiful soul that ALWAYS brightened my every day that I saw him…He is now the AMAZING volunteer at an unbelievable SOUP BUS located in Poznan, Poland, with the charity christianer.org … (find them on Facebook—it will BRIGHTEN your life)

Isn’t it AWESOME how you can watch one man go from served to SERVING!

Life — in full circle — makes my heart burst with joy.  Tears. Happiness.  And just an overwhelming sense of #itiswell .

It truly is.

It is well, with my soul.

Jared reminds me of that!

May Jared be your reminder to always invest in the beauty and hearts of others.  Your full circle will come.  And it IS worth it!

God bless.

Your teenager’s brain. Fantastic listen!


So I thought I was crazy.  After all, my daughter is only 11…but it turns out I am not crazy—my daughter is changing from my small little girl into a budding teen.  And the amazing changes that take place in the teen’s brain are astonishing!

I wish I listened to this podcast last year when she was just 10 to help me prepare for this new phase of her life.  Perhaps I would have helped her enter it with more patience.  But better late than never, right?!

I hope this podcast helps each of you, as well, as it speaks of all of those crazy changes taking place in their brains—all the pruning going on.

Seriously…we just had a melt-down crying battle over hair on Monday.  I didn’t listen to this until Tuesday—MAN!  It would have really helped me as Mommy on Monday had I known a few of these reasons behind her reactions and how I aggravated it instead of helping her through it.

Anyhow, I guess what I’m really saying is this:  if you have a boy or girl either entering their teen years or are SMACK in the middle of them, this podcast will help you be a better and more understanding parent!

Enjoy the listen and be encouraged!

Xo B

http://www.oneplace.com/ministries/focus-on-the-family/listen/understanding-your-teens-brain-i-597872.html

Happy Mother’s Day #failblog to Me!

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“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME, MOMMA!” My 3-year-old son shouted at me today.

Yes.  On Mother’s Day.

The sacred day for Mothers.

Why would a 3-year-old shout that he is not understood?

Well, for starters, his 2-year-old sister slightly colored on his Spiderman coloring picture and I told him it was going to be okay.

I even cut around the pencil scratches she made…

But, apparently, it was NOT OKAY!

I don’t understand…

And then he wanted crunchy toast for lunch.

So I made it.

Buttered bread, into the oven, voile!  Out comes crunchy toast.

But NOOOOOOOOO!

He wants the bread in the oven first to get crunchy…THEN…And, apparently, only THEN…can I butter his toast.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME, MOMMA!!!”

Yes, Maxwell.  This is where you are 100 million 25 billion 49 quadrillion 237 gazillion correct.  I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU!

Happy Mother’s Day to me?????

Absolutely!

Because just when all sanity was lost, a dear friend showed up delivering flowers on behalf of my husband who is 1 trillion kilometers away…

Flowers…on a day when I was LOSING.  Like BIG TIME!

Flowers…for me!

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Winds of change…This surprise uber lovely visit shuffled all children AND crying 3-year-olds outside where they began to ride, run, and play in the great outdoors.

Lunch still untouched—but, hey!  Who needs lunch????

Friends…I don’t understand my kids.

My 10-year-old…A mystery!

My 3-year-old…A puzzle!

My 2-year-old…A NO Monster!

If this was baseball, I would be STRUCK out!  Out of that Old Ball Game!

But that’s the thing about mommies.  We don’t strike out.

Well, technically, we MAY strike out…BUT WE DON’T leave home plate.  We make sure that they pitch it again and again and again…hoping for a hit!

Which sometimes we actually make.

The crack of the bat.  The connection of the ball.

We run and run and run…And round those bases so that we can bat again.

Recently I had posted a picture of my 2-year-old trying to escape out the front door to find daddy (who is a trillion miles away).  Her diaper sagging.  I called her #soggybottom.  My soggy bottom baby.  And I captioned the photo: Because sometimes we fail at parenting.

But then an angel wrote and said, “It’s not a parenting fail…It’s well hydrated!”

That’s when it hit me…

I didn’t fail.  I succeeded.  She was well hydrated.  That meant she wasn’t dehydrated.  Which meant, I could avoid taking her to the doctor for fluids.

Complete victory!

My daughter was well-watered.  Forget the soggy bottom baby trying to escape.  At least she was trying to escape hydrated!

More power for her long, long journey!

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I absolutely LOVED how that perspective changed my entire view of the situation.

And, so, I’ll leave you with the same advice my mom used to give me when I’d fall, “Hop up and get going again!  You are fine.”

Dear Moms out there…

You’re not failing.  You are hydrating your children.  Forget all of the details in between…

And, when you need it, remember the words HOP UP!  GET GOING!  YOU ARE FINE!

Because you are…

Happy Mother’s Day to you!

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A masterpiece of work in progress!

“He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it…” Philippians 1:6

Had I Known…

Had I known that my husband’s knees would go out on him this year, I would not be living in this house.

Had I known this fact, in advance, there is no way I would have even considered living in this house—nor be in the process of purchasing it.

I mean—this house is a second marriage to start.  It requires endless renovations.  And it’s okay—but we knew that going in.  So THAT (the need of endless renovations) was upfront with us and quite visible.

As was the coal furnace.  But I am married to a man that takes care of the coal for me.

But then life hit us and sat my husband down.

Which has left me lifting 200pounds of coal every couple days.

This morning, my hair did not feel like hair.  It felt like ashes.  It smelled like coal.  And my nose still blows black.  Wonder what the doctors would make of that?

You see, though—This thing “HAD I KNOWN” is just what we don’t know.

And, therefore, we enter life with a whole bunch of unknowns.

Perhaps you have so many HAD I KNOWN moments in your life:

Had I known my marriage would not work…

Had I known my loved one would not be here this year…

Had I known my health would not always be with me…

Had I known my job would not be secure…

Had I known…Had I known…Had I known…

My friends. We don’t know.  And that’s a certainty we can be sure of.

Sure, in some situations in life, we can be aware that something may go in a certain direction…But in many HAD I KNOWN situations in life, we just don’t know before it happens.

So the question is—What are you doing about it?  What are you going to do about it?  What will you keep doing about it?

You are here.  In this place of HAD I KNOWN and now it’s your turn to realize that you can’t look back and change the past…You are here.

What are you going to do about where you are?

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Mud Boots


There was a time in my life—barely six months ago—when I couldn’t get out of my car without first changing my shoes.

You see.  We live where it is VERY muddy.  Mud mud mud.  Everywhere.  All day.  Everyday.

And we didn’t have any sidewalk.  Therefore, I had to put on my mud boots to exit outside, while carrying my shoes for the day.

I traipsed back and forth from the house to the car, loading all 3 kids, so they wouldn’t get stuck in the mud…

And then, before putting my muddy boots in the car, I would sit in my seat and slip on my every-day shoes.

After that, I would have to figure out what to do with those muddy boots, eventually placing them somewhere in the car, usually getting mud all over everything.

Mud muddy boots.

But you see—I had to do this.

I had to wear mud boots.  I had to carry my children.  I had to then change shoes again.

I didn’t have a choice.

If I didn’t have my mud boots on, I would get stuck in the mud.  Our other shoes would get destroyed.  And there would be endless mud everywhere.

We lived like this for five years.

Five years of changing in and out of our mud boots.

But this past summer changed EVERYTHING for us.

We got a sidewalk around our house.  And a gate that opened, leading to our front door.

And our life, although muddy, became a little less so.

Friends, in life, sometimes we feel like we are deep down stuck in the mud.  And it does not seem to get any easier.  Nor does it seem to go away.

You feel as if you are trudging, daily, through the mud—not just for yourself but also for your loved ones.

And you probably are.

It is messy.  You must be strong.  And it is daily.  Daily.  Daily.

But, I am here to tell you, be patient.  Be persistent.  And trudge through that mud.  Because a day will come when you no longer will need to slip on and off those mud boots.

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There is no magic to turning 40—just a good salon


There are no magic beans for growing older nor any fountain of youth.  And Tuck Everlasting taught us that, even if there was such, we should desire it not.

So I have succumbed to aging.

40 is nothing in today’s world—especially since 40 is the new 20, right?!  But, it’s not entirely true.

Forty is something.  It’s 40.  The big 4-0. The number that defines something monumental.  Your first half of life has passed.

Yes.  Today’s world is living longer.  Healthy.  Traveling.  Enjoying life…seeing many decades more than previous generations.

It’s amazing and I am so thankful.  It’s encouraging and makes me happy to know that I have a great chance to live so many decades more.

But 40 is still hitting me.

Take my eyebrows for instance.

You already know how famous they are 😉

But really, let’s come back to them.  My eyebrows—they grow—long.  Like old man long.

What????  I had no clue I would one day wake up, look in the mirror, and see an old man on my face.  Yet there he is, in my eyebrows.  Old man.

And nose hair.

And my chins.  It doesn’t matter that I’m not a large woman, my grandma chins are still there.

Why?

They are there for a reason.  They are my reminders that I am nearly 40.  And it is a milestone.  And it means something significant:  I am completing my first half of life.

And this brings me into a place of better perspective.  One that reminds me that life is precious and fleeting.  There is not anything we can do to stop or slow it.  So today is my day.  Today is your day.

Make the most of each day.

Even if that day involves a moment at a salon—artificially refreshing your youth 😉

Leftovers

hosea scripture

(Photo Source)

There is very little in life that is as comforting as leftovers.  Like, seriously, leftovers…

Leftover dessert.

Leftover dinner.

Leftovers.

Many of you already disagree with this statement.

Piping hot!  Fresh out of the oven for you.

But, the thing is, with many dishes, the longer the food remains — the more the flavors are absorbed.

The better the food is.

Today I ate leftovers for lunch.

Indian food from Valentine’s Day.

Amazing—delicious—mouth watering leftovers.

Perhaps you feel like a leftover in life.

Like you are tomorrow’s lunch or dinner.

That you are no longer piping hot—or as fresh and delicious as yesterday’s meal.

But I am here to tell you something…

You are perfectly seasoned for today!

So, no matter where you are or what your life looks like, I pray that you don’t feel like a leftover but a LEFTOVER!

Wahoo!

God bless,

b

I am a SAHM.  I should get used to it.

I am a working mom—yet find myself home nearly every day with my kids.  And it’s glorious but not glamorous.

I had a lot of fun one day documenting segments of my day with my kids.

Here is my glorious but definitely not glamorous life.

Get popcorn!

Xob

What you do for your children’s critters!

Is Cami finally happy 😉 ?  Nah.

Two kittens found their way into our basement.  The kids were thrilled!

Seriously—my bald baby has no idea how disgustingly dirty our basement floor actually is.  Gag!

If I wasn’t already the overly tired nearly 40 yr old mother of toddlers—I would have more energy for this 😉

Yes…to reiterate—I am wearing clothes.  Just meant I couldn’t head outside because was too chilly for my basketball shorts, tank top, and flip flops 😉

I actually filmed so many more but they refused to download.  Perhaps it was an electronic rebellion,eh?!

God bless—and kiss those crazy babies.  Glamorous or glorious—all moments are treasures.

Xo b

I forgot to feed my daughter. And we sent her to a counselor.

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Living in a different country, in a village, where hardly any English is spoken is a bunch of fun. Especially when you forgot the differences of the beginning of the school year.

Things that are quite important like…

Oh, packing your daughter’s lunch for her.

You see. I forgot that they don’t start serving school lunches the first day of school. I even made sure to tell my husband, “Richard, make sure to go and pay for school lunches so Adelyne will have money on her account.”

So, Richard went to pay for lunches. The lunch lady said, “Oh, no worries. Pay by September 15th.”

And we thought, “Wow. What a relaxed country. How nice!”

Little did I remember (until well past lunch time) that they don’t serve school lunches that day.

AHHHH! Well, good thing I packed Adelyne a cookie to snack on. Oh, and Smarties because, after all, it was the first real day of school and I wanted to remind her to be a “Smarty”. Smarties are like M&Ms. Therefore, technically, she did have two things to eat. Both sugary. But I guess sugar worked well enough. She made it through the day 😉 And, yes, she came home HUNGRY.

To make it up to her, I had bought her favorite French pastries for her arrival home…apple! She was so happy to see them and devoured them quickly.

But forgetting her lunch was not all. Somehow, lost in translation, was the fact that she would need PE clothes to change in and out of.  She did, however, change her shoes from outside shoes to hallway shoes.

So, let me set this all straight:

She was the only student that did not have a lunch.

She also was the only student that did not change clothes after PE.

And she was the only student that DID change her shoes from outside shoes to hallway shoes back to outside shoes.

That’s it.  Three strikes.  We definitely struck out.

But in spirit and adventure and smiles, we still won.  Adelyne came home completely happy to have been at school and back amongst her friends in Poland.

Now for the counselor…

Before we returned to Poland, my husband and I were completely breathless, having near panic attacks, worried about Adelyne’s return to Poland.  After all, we had been living in the beautiful and glorious USA for the past year and a half.  That’s a very long time for a child.  Especially when you go from 1st grade to 3rd grade.  The maturity at 8 that was not there at 6 is astounding.  Her entire being is different now.  And school in Polish.  Eek!  The language is so difficult.

And, so, we, trying to be and ahead of the game parents, decided to set up a back-to-Poland counseling appointment.  Hoping that it would be 1 of 3 appointments.

We met with the counselor and spoke to her about our concerns and told her about Adelyne.  She was extremely perceptive.  Probably a great trait in a counselor, eh?  And we scheduled the time for her to meet one-on-one with the counselor.

Adelyne was told that she was going to meet a lady that she could share openly with her feelings about returning to Poland, or anything else that laid heavy on her heart.

She seemed okay with it.  So off we went.

Now, here’s the funny part, the lady that we sent Adelyne to is specifically a counselor for children.  She has toys and crafts and art supplies galore in her office so that the children can play and talk at the same time, keeping the atmosphere very safe for them.

Well, Adelyne decided to sit on the couch across from her and speak the entire time.  You see, Adelyne was an only child for 6 and 1/2 years.  And for that entire time, she has helped us build a foundation for the poor in Poland.  Meaning, she has spent the majority of her life in meetings or doing grown-up stuff.

The counselor was funny.  She said, “It’s the first time a child has sat on the couch the entire counseling session.  It made me a bit uncomfortable.”

Haha.  A piece of the counselor’s own medicine—being on the other side of the couch, eh?   (But I say that in respectful love because I truly believe greatly in good and Godly counseling and hold the utmost respect for the counselor herself)

Back to the counseling session.  Adelyne shared a lot.  The counselor after spoke with me about what was said and her advice on how Richard and I could help with the transition back to Poland.  Overall, it was a beautifully great and helpful session.

And with everything in my being, I had intended to take Adelyne in for 2 more sessions before our move back to Poland.

One session to address the difficulties Richard and I had in our marriage the past year that she was witness to.

The next how she felt when Maxwell was sick (Our son is a NICU and then later an ICU, blood transfusion, and coma survivor).

So, you see, there is a lot that a little 8 year old could share with a counselor.  And I had really wanted to get her back…

But life got in the way of my best intentions.  My husband was once again out of the country for a month.  I was packing and moving a house without him.  My daughter had daily dive lessons.  And I have 2 wee ones that were even wee-r at the time (if there is such a word).

All of this means we did not get back to the counselor despite my heart telling me it was so needed.

And then we went and did it.  Moved back to Poland.  And we began to settle back into our lives of living in a foreign country and all that entails (which is  lot on its own).

Happy, happy, happy has my daughter been.  And then it hit!

Bam!

Maxwell, our son, had a horrible allergic reaction to something.  His face swelled up, his eye was swelling closed, the red was creeping along his neck.

He looked horrible, felt horrible, and I began to panic.

Can he breathe?  What happened?  Did he touch something?  Did he eat something?

And then something even worse happened.

My daughter lost it.  She just sat there and cried and cried and cried.

I felt for her, but, at the moment, we had to take care of Maxwell (and the regime that comes with a horrible allergy attack) and then monitor him closely for about 20 minutes with our epi pens right next to us.  We were debating, do we call my brother, a fire captain and paramedic?  Do we call our brother-in-law, a doctor?  Do we call the Polish emergency number 1-1-2?  Do we ride it out?

Who knows if we made the best choice, but we made a choice that we felt was best.

And while Maxwell slowly started to improve, Adelyne started to dis-improve.  She melted.  Literally melted.

She climbed in my lap like a small child would and crumpled against my chest.  No matter how many times we tried to assure her that Maxwell was fine, she seemed unable to breathe peacefully.

And that’s when I got to the heart of her panic.

Laying flat against my chest with her legs curled up into my lap she said through her tears, “Do you know what it’s like to have your brother almost die on you?”

No.  She wasn’t talking about his allergy attack (as severe as it was), she was talking about when no one knew if Maxwell was going to live or die when he was a baby.

In the midst of something sad but not so extraordinary (although I don’t take allergic reactions lightly, especially with my nutty son), the past came back in a rush to my daughter, and I could tell the future will continue to hold a lot of healing.

And while we have epi pens for our son Maxwell, dealing with the heart of Adelyne may require a different kind of medicine.  Called time.  Love.  And lots of hugs.

Now, to end on a funny note.  As Adelyne was super sentimental about Maxwell’s horrible allergy reaction, she just wanted to cuddle her precious baby brother.

Max, on the other hand, kept kicking her away and tackling her and shouting, “Noooooo!”

Yes.  This did eventually make the waterworks worse.

But, truly, isn’t that what brothers are for?!

 

What’s wrong with calling your daughter a princess?

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I believe princesses often get the shaft.

There are so many blog postings and articles out there that often make you feel bad for declaring your daughter your princess. They make you feel an ill-fitting parent if you tell your daughter she’s pretty.  And they make you feel plain ol’ bad when you dress your gal in pink.

It gets tiring.  And disheartening.

So, to you moms and dads out there that call your daughter your princess, tell her she’s pretty, and dress her in pink, I am here to say, I’ve got your back!

You see, I have two princesses, and I am their queen.

And this is why I have absolutely no problem with any of the above…

A princess is a highly celebrated figure that is akin to a national treasure.  Wow and crowds surround her, and she is held in high esteem.

Yep.  My daughters are two of my greatest treasures.  With each birth I was in wow.  My family crowded around them.  And to say that I hold them in high esteem is an understatement.  I hold them in the highest esteem!

A princess usually dresses her part while teaching the world how to act, behave, and serve others.

My princesses do the same.  They dress their part.  Sometimes it’s frilly for finer occasions and other times it’s muddy because “their part” is being kids.

Daily my princesses teach me how to act and behave.  When I act and behave appropriately, I see it in their mirroring of me.  When I do not, I see it in their mirroring of me.  And when I don’t like what I see, my princesses bring me back to reality, and I learn to change my ways.

My princesses serve others.  The older learns how to serve with actions, whether it is her daddy, or brother, or sister, or stranger.  She is daily learning and growing to put others before herself.

And my littlest.  Well, since she’s 6 months and rotund, she serves with eye-losing smiles.  And coos.  And cuddles.  And laughter.

Both of my princesses serve to the best of their abilities for their particular stations in life.  And they serve well!

My princesses are pretty.  They’re not just pretty, they’re beautiful.  They’re not just beautiful, they’re stunning.  Speechlessly stunning.

Beauty is always in the eye of the beholder.  And I, as their mommy, will always be (partnered with their daddy, of course), their greatest admirer.  I want my daughters to be intelligent and strong and beautiful on the inside, but I have never in my entire life, never, ever, ever, met a girl grown into a woman, who has not wanted to be told she was and is beautiful.  My princesses will grow into their internal beauty, but my princesses will never doubt their external beauty.

You see, as a parent, it does not matter the physical exterior of your child, for, to you, your child that graces your lap is the most beautiful gift God could have ever given you.  Her beauty will always be beyond measure.

And my princesses will always be the most beautiful gifts to me.

Yes.  I believe that princesses often get the shaft.

But, my daughters, my princesses, will hold their heads high, with strength in their backs, and always know…

No matter where.

No matter what.

No matter how they do in life, they will always be my distinguished princesses, and I—I will always be their mommy queen.