Maxwell says every day, “When I grow more bigger…”
Well, Maxwell, today is your “Grow More Bigger” Day!
You are here.
Four.
Happy birthday, our precious boy.
Hopefully, one day, you’ll be able to look back at this slideshow of the first 4 years of your life and say, “I MADE IT! I grew more bigger.”
But, in the meantime, I want to share the 4 things that I have learned from you:
Live every day practically naked. Who needs clothes when a naked bum or a good pair of underwear will do the job?
Live every day simply. You, my son, perhaps understand the value of life more than the rest of us. Or at least most of us. And this may be the reason why you are simply content. Mud? Water? Insects? Check. Check. Check! All equals a life being well lived.
Live every day as that pesky little/big brother. Really. You are a mess. You are a boy. Your dinosaur eats her dolly—you make her cry. You are the middle now but will be the biggest one day. You may be the pest now but will be the protector one day. You are the grossest now but will be the humor bringer one day. Live every day with your sisters as your best friends!
Lastly, live every day eating bacon! Okay—you probably eat a tad too much. But you show me to savor what is given to me! And that is you, Maxwell Loren. A gift from God whose life was miraculously spared. And we will never ever stop thanking God for the gift of Y-O-U!
We love you now and will forever, our boy. Sto lat,
Your Momma, Your Daddy, Your Adelyne, and Your GoGo Baby (aka Your Josephine)
Now for a classic…And, yes, Paul, we do say it is his birthday!
My near 10-year-old daughter has only lived 18 months of her entire life in the United States, instead growing up in Europe.
Many may find that magical. Like the lives of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and all of the Dwarves!
Birds chirping.
Bells ringing.
Mice cleaning our home (instead of making a mess of it).
It really is different. Europe.
And, being an American, I sense it. In my life, as an adult in Europe, I sense it. Especially as a mom of a child that feels more European than American.
As an outsider to an insider.
And this is what I have come to conclude.
We always look at the lives of others through our eyes and wish…
Wish we had their lives, experiences, and adventures.
And while many look at mine and wish for my experiences, my daughter looks at theirs and wishes the same.
To some, seeing a big and fancy run-down castle in Europe and walking down cobblestone streets is Disneyland!
To my daughter, wild camping in the dessert, wading through rivers, listening to coyotes, making s’mores, and catching fish is Disneyland!
The point is…
Life is very different, no matter where in the world you live.
But the most important thing is this—live it!
And appreciate what it is that surrounds you—because, somewhere, others in the world wish your life was theirs.
Perhaps it’s because I’m a new mother. Or perhaps it’s because I never travel—especially long distances. But I learned my lesson. And I learned it good.
It’s 2am and I am up. And my toddler is up. And I don’t foresee sleep in either of our futures. At least sleep at night.
This is why I write this warning.
Don’t travel with toddlers. Ever!
***
Now, on the facetious side of it all—
I am not a new mother. I have 3 kids, and my oldest (now 9 years of age) was lugged on an airplane crossing state lines at 3 weeks and crossing an entire continent and ocean and half another continent at 6 weeks. She has since then been on 4 continents (which is 1 more than I have been to as her 39-year-old mother).
My middle—the current toddler that is wide eyed and not so cute at 2am (smile and wink) has been in 4 countries in his 3 years and 2 months of life. 3 of those countries he has traveled to via plane. Only one via car—and that was to be whisked to an emergency room in Germany.
My youngest—my baby—she’s traveled a couple cross-Atlantic flights with me since 5 months of age.
And my recommendation stands: Don’t travel with toddlers. Ever.
Seriously.
Sleeping solutions used to pour down his throat?
Nope. No good.
Keeping the devil (I mean angel) up all day so he’ll sleep all night?
Fail.
Bribery?
Threatening?
TV?
Nothing puts the kid to sleep.
Not even mommy’s weeping and gnashing of teeth.
And so I lug on—sleepless. Wild-eyed. Crying.
Worse than the toddler.
Leaving my husband to pick up all pieces of the house—and the three kids. And the three dogs. And the water turtle. And the chameleon.
And the dishes. And the laundry. And the mess the little toddler tornados make every other second.
Wait.
Perhaps this isn’t so bad after all—for me?
A little late night TV to myself. A little late-night snacking. A little mid-morning nap. A little no-cleaning????
And a hubby that runs ragged after everything appreciating me more and more with each passing moment.
I was wrong. I take it back.
Travel with toddlers.
And then use them as your excuse to stay up late. Sleep in. And do nothing!
It’s like living the Mother’s Day Every Daydream, my friends!
My husband, kiddos, and I were suppose to appear on a rather popular reality TV show that shall remain nameless—but I will tell you that it does involve looking to purchase a home when you live in a foreign country.
It is one of my all-time favorite reality TV shows. In fact, when I was pregnant and at the doctor’s office like one gazillion times a week, I would sit in the office and watch bucketloads of this show.
My daughter, Adelyne, was super duper thrilled at the prospect of appearing on this show because she loves the limelight. Or, pretty much, any shade of light that shines upon her—even if when in front of it she becomes shy.
My husband, Richard, was as excited as I was because it would be GREAT publicity for sharing about our passion for rescuing the forgotten (www.rescuetheforgotten.com)!
And our littles, Maxwell and Josephine, well, unless they were going to meet Elmo, they were pretty much apathetic about it all. Go figure.
But, you see, a lot of things took place right before the show. I had unexpected travels—couple that with, when I returned, my husband was to travel.
It was the dead of winter.
And, most devastating of all, our home would be packed and unpacked in a day.
Did I mention that it was the dead of winter? This is not the tropics, my friends. Not.The.Tropics.
Needless to say, as much as I wanted to be on the show—with pretty much all of my obsessed heart—we had a choice to make:
Proceed with the show OR give up my big and littles (because I just couldn’t foresee handling it all).
We decided to keep two things: My sanity and the little stinkers. So, we had to contact the show and tell them we were not the subjects we had hoped we would be for their show. They graciously accepted our denial and informed us if we move to another country and look to purchase a home to keep them in mind. (Total bummer because if we move again and look to purchase a home, we won’t qualify for this show because we’d be moving back to the good ol’ US of A) But it was even more confirmed affirmation how this show totally rocks. I knew I hearted that show! Even gracious in our non-acceptance of appearance.
But, really, my friends, I challenge you today to ponder this:
Perhaps there is something out there amazingly awesome that you can participate in. It may even be super fun and even benefit your work. And, yes, truth be told, I even thought it might increase my Twitter following. Oh, wait. Is having 78 Followers considered a following? More like my Twitter slight breeze (smile and wink). But in all reality (see, there is that word again), when you come to that crossroad in your life between uber fame (now you know that I am exaggerating) and sanity—choose sanity.
Fame only lasts 15 minutes anyway!
For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven…
Have you ever lost your glasses that were at the end of your nose? Or your hat that was on top of your head?
Well, I definitely have. And did. Just the other day.
You see, I was at work the other day. I work on the computer for a large portion of my time, as I work on sharing stories and finding supporters for our foundation, Bread of Life Ministries (click here!)…
It’s a very daunting job—but I would not have ANY other job. Here is a a throwback photo of a donation made so that we could build a new soup kitchen!
To know all of the children, men, and women that we get to see served a bowl of soup, a new pair of glasses, an opportunity for counseling, life-saving cancer treatment, an education in Western Africa where most that we serve live on $2.00 or less a day, or a night of safety in a rescue center, is worth every minute that we do not sleep at night worrying about where the money will come in to help rescue these precious people!
And, to be fair to God, he does tell us not to worry about tomorrow. That’s just a hard one to accept.
Anyhow, it happened.
I was at work when I glanced down at my hand. That’s when I saw it. Or didn’t see it!
My MISSING wedding ring.
I panicked. Not because my husband would be upset if I wasn’t wearing my ring—he knows he’s always been my one and only hottie. I panicked because I have a 14-month-old daughter that is at a stage in her life that is THROWING EVERYTHING IN THE TRASH!
I mean, really. She literally goes to the refrigerator and takes something out of it and then goes straight to the trashcan and giddily throws it away. I should have filmed her the other day. It was as if she had discovered Disneyland in our very own kitchen. Except the rides were her feet and the thrill was the trash can.
That is why, when I didn’t see my wedding ring, I panicked.
Where did I put it? On the table at home? In the bathroom? On the counter?
Did I lay it down and then get distracted by doing my hair or makeup?
Oh my. Oh my. Oh my. Oh my!
I still worked the rest of the day, but as soon as I got home, I looked everywhere for my wedding ring. My search was fruitless. I couldn’t find it anywhere.
And then suddenly it hit me. BAM!
This was the very thought that ran through my mind, “Check your left hand!”
Sure enough, I looked at my left hand and there on my “Ring Finger” was my wedding ring!
Say what? You may ask.
Let me clear your confusion. For nearly a decade or more, I have been wearing my wedding ring on my right hand like they do in Poland. And, for some odd reason that morning, I must have absently placed it on my left hand and forgot all about it. Especially since I frantically looked at my right hand all day and concocted crazy scenarios about where my wedding ring went.
Like the glasses at the end of our nose or the hat on top of our head, my ring finger on my left hand was natural—and yet, at the same time, unnatural. So unnatural, that I didn’t even think to look on my left hand for my ring when it went missing 😉
I guess my little trash-throwing daughter is off the hook—for now—in this dual-culture case of “The Missing Ring”.
My daughter can read in Polish. Therefore, it’s not the words on the label that threw her off this evening as she went grocery shopping with me.
But what happened was so cute. We were walking down the aisle while I was checking my grocery list. When we came where I needed to stop, my daughter giggled and asked, “What are those?!”
I looked at what drew such curious giggling from my daughter and began giggling on my own.
Glancing at her innocent, adorable face and said, “They’re eggs!”
“But they’re white,” she proclaimed.
“Why, yes they are. Yes, they are.”
Far, far away from the land famous for white eggs, aka America, white eggs here in Poland are a novelty not quite known how to be perceived.
I LOVE MY GAL!
And to top off the trip, she wore an ace bandage on her hand and wrapped her arm in her scarf like a sling.
Just because.
She also threw on her high-heeled (for a 9-year-old) turquoise shoes with no socks. Believe me—it’s cold outside.
And off we went. To the grocery store together.
Where she, my precious Adelyne, discovered white eggs.
And where we, mother and daughter, both left with the giggles!
“In America, all you would do is make a card for your grandma and grandpa,” stated my daughter.
This came about when we were having a conversation about whether or not she was glad to be back in Poland.
Two days ago, her class performed Little Red Riding Hood, the play, did two dances, and sang multiple songs for the grandpas and grandmas in the audience.
My daughter gave up a visit to the States so that she could be there for this special day, even though her grandparents were thousands upon thousands of miles and an ocean and a continent away in Arizona and California respectively.
You have to understand, my daughter feels Polican, as she says. Polish and American, and she speaks Pinglish. For Polish and English.
We are so above and beyond grateful to God that she feels this way. We have instilled in her the utmost to bloom where planted, and we are planted by God in the country of Poland.
And, for that very reason, my daughter attends Polish school and participates in all celebrations that Poland holds dear. We love her school and all that it does.
You need to understand, as well, that our daughter’s school is extremely small. It is a K-8th grade school that had its gymnasium built by the European Union, and, until this past fall, had absolutely no playground.
Before the playground was built, my daughter was asked by some friends and family what she did during recess.
Well, the first thing you should know is that my daughter does not technically have recess. She has 5-minute breaks between her 45-minute classes. Otherwise, her school day is only the hours that she has class.
That can mean that her “school day” is for 3 hours one day or 5 hours on her longest day—and that is only because she goes in for a 45-minute session of PSL (Polish as a Second Language). Otherwise her school day is 4 hours.
At first, such short days were huge adjustments. But as the year went on, we have grown to really love the short school days. It gives us an opportunity to enroll Adelyne in multiple activities but it doesn’t take us until bedtime to complete them.
This is what she participates in during the typical week:
Mondays—horse lessons and swimming. This is her late night.
Tuesdays—nothing but play.
Wednesdays—French lessons and then we swing by our office where she has her “library”
Thursdays—Nothing but play with her best friend! Thursdays she only has 3 hours of school.
Fridays—Dance after school. At the school. Very convenient and she loves it (it is an outside company that comes in)
Youth group is a Friday night event.
Anyhow—back to the recess question. Adelyne was asked, “What do you do during recess since you don’t have a playground?” She responded, “We run and jump and skip!”
I loved that. Even in simplicity, children find great joys. Sometimes I believe that we try to incorporate too much (I am just as guilty as the next) into their lives when all children really need is dirt. And like we all heard growing up, “Dirt don’t hurt!”
This week as we celebrated the grandparents that were able to attend, I thought of the spectacular assembly the teachers prepared and the students prepared for and I realized—this was very special. So special that it would not have taken place in the States.
First of all, to be very fair, in the States, most people don’t even live near their grandparents. Very few people live where they were born in the States. That is just the reality there. In fact, people will gladly move where they will find work. Even if it means hours upon hours away from their families.
In Poland, people tend to live (generally speaking it is still very true to this day) where they were born. Therefore, they have large amounts of relatives right nearby—including grandparents. Poland has yet to become a very transient society. Yes, many migrate outside of Poland for work. But, for those Poles remaining in Poland, a very large population still live very near in proximity to where they were born.
This is EXTREMELY evident at Dzien Dziadek i Babcia. The auditorium was FILLED with grandparents. It was such a blessing to see.
Having a daughter that lives thousands upon thousands of miles away from her grandparents, I loved that as I glanced around at the event, there was a sea of elderly faces and hair of wisdom. And oh my! They were all dressed up to a T and just as proud as could be as they watched their posterity perform just for them.
It was really special.
And Adelyne got to experience it because we are in Poland.
Oh—and dance in it!
So, today, I give to you my daughter in a super adorable dance that she got to participate in for Grandparents Day in Poland.
Her stats on the day of this event: Adelyne Marguerite; age 8; 3rd Class; Grandparents’ Day Celebration ballerina (in the light pink skirt). Enjoy!
If you are a grandpa or grandma, no matter where you are in the world, we celebrate you!
I’ve been off trying to become a Christmas Viking in Norway. I failed. The caviar that was spread on bread was just not my cup of tea. On the other hand, I did hike all the way up a very snow-covered trail carrying a two-year-old for most of the path in my not-made-for-snow boots while passing an old Viking burial plot along the way.
Does that make me Viking enough? Probably not.
But the carrying a two-year-old should for sure get me an honorable mention, right?!
Here’s a fun photo, however, of my husband. He helped when my arms were about to fall off! He most certainly is the man 😉
Anyhow…
As I watch the dates on the calendar fly away at warp speed, I reflect back upon the last year. And it is with this rear view that I see it all.
2014 marked for us a year of finality and survival. It was a year marked with death and once again new beginnings. 2014. It was a beautiful year that gave us no rest.
And this is what I learned about myself this past year as I ask myself the question, “Did I miss anything?”
The answer is yes. Always. And with some regret.
But as I look back upon 2014, I see great news!
I see Rich and I celebrating our 2 years of surviving our marriage after I was ready to call it quits! So it is as if we celebrated 2 anniversaries this year. 14 years of marriage and 2 years of keeping our marriage. I think that both Rich and I are better and changed people. And we have a deeper understanding of one another. A deeper respect. And a far deeper love. We are a better couple. A more respectful couple. And even better parents.
I see that when you go through valleys that means there are mountains to climb. And when you summit the peak, it’s a glorious view that surrounds you. It’s 360. And it’s complete. And you are far closer to heaven.
That is our marriage, and I will only speak for myself when I say—I am so happy to celebrate 14 years and 2 years with my husband this past 2014!
In 2014, I see a little baby that sprang forth from my belly. A baby that was never really little to begin with (10 pounds 10 ounces at birth). Our baby finale. And boy, what a bang we went out with, our sweet Josephine. Although we tied our tubes and still want a million more children, we are enjoying every single moment relishing the final baby pitter patter steps, cries, and sleepless nights. We are enjoying the morning calls to rise and the cuddles in our arms. We often allow her to fall asleep in our arms and just hold her for near to an hour after. We can’t believe the gift of this surprise little Josephine Diane. And we love every red hair on her head—even as they are fading to a strawberry blond!
I see a daughter. A brave, warrior daughter willing to move back to a country that was once the only home she knew. And then she didn’t know. And she had to reenter in a language that was foreign. And hard. And enter a grade where she no longer has the opportunity to not speak and read and write in the language. Our fearless daughter took a machete and made the way for our family. My husband and I were sick to our stomachs to move her away from her cousins and aunties and uncles and across the world to a land vastly different from where we were. And our daughter. She plowed forward. With trepidation? Perhaps. And yet with determination. She spent countless hours studying the language. And countless more inserting herself into the lives of long but not forgotten friends. Hand motions and sounds were the friends she had when we arrived back in Poland. And Google Translate. And hours upon hours of slow, treacherous, painful homework. And now, 6 months later, she sits in front of me with her best friend. Rambling in this difficult language (Polish). And the only English word I have heard out of her mouth in the past 3 hours was “Oh! Zobacz! Broccoli!” As she and her friend play Skylanders Giants. This firstborn of mine is my greatest Sensei. And Richard and I thank God daily for Adelyne’s fearless spirit!
My son. My beautiful baby that conquered death a couple times over. He turned 2 in 2014. And we finally had his baby dedication—albeit as a toddler. But, you know, when you spend the majority of your baby life in and out of hospitals, toddler dedication it does become. And we have finally seen him go from the never healthy baby boy to a boy that runs and jumps and plays. I used to have panic attacks out of fear of him getting sick. And now I realize that I can finally breathe. My boy. My boy with an old grandpa name. My Max. He is beautiful. And feisty. And sweet. And fun. He loves his sisters. He loves swords. He loves popcorn. And he loves his sister’s Barbies. He loves waking up every morning and saying, “Good morning, Mommy! Good morning, Daddy! Good morning, Sissy! Good morning, GoGo!” It’s as if he knows each morning is a gift and a good morning. Because every morning alive IS a great morning. Our Max. I pray for the direction of his life one day because I know that he will represent God greatly! Our Miracle Maxwell—2014 brought 2 years of life to him. Hard. Fought. Life. And now it’s time for Max to live freely. I am glad to enter into 2015 with Maxwell as our middle!
Did I miss anything in 2014? As I ended 2013, I challenged all of us at And 2 Makes Crazy to enter 2014 with JOY—Jesus over you! And I think.
Did I do that? Finish 2014 with JOY? Jesus Over Me?
And I have come to this conclusion…
JOY is not a 365-day-challenge. It is a thousand-year-challenge. And, of course, by then I’ll be long gone. But the thing about it is, as each day I choose to enter it with JOY, I enter it full of the grace of God and the guidance of the Holy Spirit. I enter it filled with peace and know that with Him I can do anything.
2014 was a beautiful gift wrapped in colors of all emotions.
And now, 2015 is ringing in all around me with fireworks in all of their clanging splendor.
Reflecting upon 2014, I wonder. Did I miss anything?
If I did. It’s too late. 2015 is now here. And there is nothing I can do about the past.
And so I must look forward to the future. That’s where I see endless possibilities and great hope. With my God. With my husband. With my family. And with my work.
Therefore, I smile brightly as I enter 2015…
From the hearts of my family to yours, God bless you, And 2 Makes Crazy Readers. Enter 2015 with just as much JOY as before…
Happy New Year…Szczęśliwego nowego roku!
Always,
Brooke, Richard, Adelyne, Maxwell, and Josephine
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning. Great is Your faithfulness.
You see, I am a consumer of many things. One, airline tickets. We live in a foreign country, and we live in a day and age where we don’t have to take only boat and train. We can fly. And, therefore, to get where I am, I fly.
I am a consumer of medicine. My son, very unfortunately, is one of “those” kids. One of those kids that needs a bag of medical supplies when I even travel to the grocery store. Gotta have emergency meds on hand at all times. Gotta take daily meds without fail. And gotta. Just gotta do it. No essential oils will heal this little man. So we appreciate the consumption of medicine.
I am a consumer of diapers. God bless throwaway diapers. I live in a place that sells them. I, precious people that use cloth diapers oh how I admire you, but I love taking off a diaper and throwing it away. I am a happy consumer of diapers. And I am so thankful I don’t have to wash my son and daughter’s dirty nappies multiple times every day.
I am a consumer of food. Such yummy divine goodness. Last night, we fed the kids breakfast for dinner (eggs, bacon, toast, fruit), and then we bathed them and put them down. Then the hubs and I had a “date” at home. Steak, salad, and sweet potato marital bliss. He lit a fire, and we watched a Christmas movie. It was relaxing, romantic, and a sleeping pill (as I fell asleep before the movie ended). So, I guess I am also a consumer of wood and media.
I am a consumer of electricity, and coal, and internet (although no one really owns that—so I guess I am a consumer of companies that deliver it).
I am a consumer of coffee and soda. And dog food (for I have 3 dogs).
I am a consumer. And I like it.
But you know what I love to consume more than any of the above, including Christmas gifts from the store?
Love.
I love to consume hugs.
And kisses.
And tickles.
And backrubs.
I love to consume smiles.
And cheers.
And giggles.
And tears. Because that means at least I am there.
I love to consume wrinkled papers that come from backpacks with markings from school.
And half-eaten candy canes smothered in drool.
I love to consume wet towels and laundry and dishes galore.
I love to consume it all—and a little bit more.
For with all of these above that I consume, I am reminded each day that I live in a house full of love.
And as we await the holy night,
I know in my home that all is right.
After the bath, all cosy in bed, I cover my three with a happy gait.
And then I slip quietly off…
To sit and eat, sleep and wait.
Before I know it, tomorrow is here.
And I get to consume a little bit more. It’s truly a dream, this consumption of mine.
But, no matter what it looks like in the heart, it does cost plenty of dimes.
For even though my love is free…
To feed and diaper and take care of my 3 takes a grocery store connected to a clothing store connected to a school supply shop.
And more.
But I gladly consume because I know what it’s for!
Adelyne.
Maxwell.
And Sweet Cheeks, Little Miss Josephine.
For these three, I would gladly buy out the store.
We moved to Poland September 8, 2001. We moved from Arizona. We packed what we thought were warm clothes. Turns out, warm clothes from Arizona are merely “thick” t-shirts.
We arrived and were freezing our tails off.
Seriously. It was raining. It was cold.
The heat wouldn’t turn on in our flat because the city controlled the heat in our flat and it was not yet deemed “cold” enough by the city to turn on the heat.
I was an Arizona Desert Rat. Instead of melting, I was living in an ice box gathering ice crystals.
I will never forget how cold I was.
I was so cold, I convinced my husband that we must run out and buy warm jackets.
It wasn’t even technically warm jacket season. After all, it was only September. Little did I know how cold November, December, and so forth would get if I was cold in September, eh?! To me it was already like Siberia.
We were off. We went to buy winter jackets. I found one. Floor length and brown. And a brown scarf. And a brown hat. And brown gloves.
I went all out.
I tell you, I was cold.
And then we went out. Literally. Out. In public. For all to see.
I was wrapped from head to toe in my beanie, my gloves, my scarf. You could barely see my eyes. But, worse than any of that was my jacket. My floor-length, brown, winter jacket.
I was so toasty warm. And it was evening. And we decided to walk to the city square.
Oh, tears are in my eyes right now recalling the numerous stares and mumblings we got as I walked around all wrapped like an Eskimo, yet technically still living in Polish summer. So funny.
Ah…memories of when we first arrived in Poland. And although I laugh now, I know then I was freezing. To my bone freezing.
Oh, I forgot to mention how cold it was.
About 60+F (around 16C).
To a desert rat, 60F is akin to the North Pole. And that is where I felt we lived.
Needless to say, my jacket and I really learned what cold was when actual winter hit. And then I dreamed about the return of those “warm” Polish evenings.
Haha.
I hope that there are folks still enjoying the attack of the mummy at their dinnertime conversation.
In any case, with time, I learned how to actually dress appropriately for the weather. And eventually I learned that September was not the right time to run around in floor-length jackets, gloves, scarves, and beanies, with only your eyes peeking through.
But, even after all of these years in Poland, I am still that same desert rat, freezing and cold. Just better adjusted for the weather.
Now, here are the TOP 10 most read posts this past year as And 2 Makes Crazy celebrates its one-year blog-o-versary. If you haven’t read one of the following posts, I hope that you go on back and have a read.
Enjoy.
xoxo from here to there,
b
(Top 10 from the entire blogging year in order of Most Read)
And 2 Makes Crazy 