Monthly Archives: April 2015


Honestly, deep down I was hoping for a girl. I feel ashamed to admit it, but after bringing three wonderful, energetic, hyper, happy little fellas into this world, I had convinced myself that it was high time our house was adorned with a bit of pink. Some nights I was guilty of even slipping in my requests while I said my nightly prayers. “…and please,” I’d catch myself asking, “I promise I’ll teach her to be a good girl. She would have great older brothers to look after her, an amazing dad who would teach her what it meant to be a gentleman… Heavenly Father, I even know how to French braid hair! I’m just not so sure that I’m cut out for this all-boy gig. Please!” Not that I didn’t absolutely love my little guys. Another one would be loved and adored just as much. It was just…this was very possibly our last, and that meant no pink, no frilly dresses, no French braids or girl’s nights or dolls. I had decided what I thought was best for our growing family. But as so often goes, God had other plans.

IMG_1414I didn’t even cry. I honestly thought I would. As I processed the four-boy adventure in my mind and watched that little bundle wiggle on the ultrasound screen, I thought about the three I had at home and the liveliness and adventure they had brought to our family over the past six years. I thought about all the patches I’d be sewing onto their boy scout uniforms, the tractors and Legos and little toy cars that would forever be scattered across our floors, the bathrooms that I would constantly be cleaning because they never seem to aim quite right. And, I actually felt…relief. Four boys! Only crazy women and superheroes have four boys! Not what I had expected, not what I had planned, but just what was right. And that was ok.

IMG_3397Over the next few weeks we heard a lot of sympathy. “Oh, wow! Are you ok with that?” Or, “You poor thing. You’re so outnumbered!” We also heard plenty of encouragement. And, I admit, even though I had come to terms with being so outnumbered, even really excited about it, sometimes (as true as many of them were) these thoughts crossed my mind:

  • Friend: You already have all the clothes you’ll need!


(disclaimer: we had to buy lots of new clothes after this middle guy because he’s so rough on them! So yes,we actually do have all the clothes we need)

  • Friend: Well, you know boys.

imageExcept when I wonder if they’re even from this planet…

  • Friend: Boys are so much less drama.

20140330_174843“Mo-I’m!! R just gave me the worst wedgie EVERRR!! Are you going to make him sit on his bed?”

  • Friend: You’re lucky. Boys are SO much easier.


“Hey Mom, someday I want to try pouring water into your blow dryer while it’s on. What do you think it would do then?”

  • Friend: You’ll be queen of the house!

IMG_1529IMG_1526…at least queen of the laundry room.

  • Friend: You’ll never have to worry about someone stealing your clothes.


…or maybe I’ll be worrying more if they DO steal my clothes.

  • Boys are so much cheaper!


Good thing because I’m pretty sure all our savings will be going toward stocking our pantry.

As I have gotten older I’ve learned the hard lesson that sometimes what we want and think is important for us doesn’t align with what we need or what is right. Our boys so desperately wanted a sister, and often I would find myself before we knew reminding them that God always hears our prayers, but sometimes he answers them in ways we don’t expect. Sometimes it isn’t what we want to hear, but it will always be what is best. I might have been reminding them for MY sake as much (or more) as theirs.

So, to all my sympathetic and encouraging friends, don’t worry. I’m completely thrilled to have FOUR crazy, wild, dirty, talkative, rambunctious little boys. I’ll learn to enjoy the quiet nights alone while they’re off on scouting adventures, I’ll find a better laundry stain remover, and I’ll accept the fact that sometimes I’ll feel like I’m living on a distant planet with a bunch of aliens. And I will love (most) every second of boyish mischief. A little girl would have been wonderful, but I trust that God knew what He was doing in sending me these four little fellas. I’ll trust that He sees something in me I can’t see in myself, and I’ll trust in Him to help me raise these boys to be good men. Because if there’s anything I’ve learned as a mom of these crazy guys, it’s that He knows best.


Categories: Uncategorized | 5 Comments

Those Care-Free Days

20150405_093955I grew up in a house that was a century old. The stairs creaked, it was a little drafty, and when my parents bought it, it needed lots (and lots and lots) of tlc. My parents saw something in that house I’m sure very few could. Their vision of turning that musty, dusty, old house into a home became a reality as they planned, gutted, painted, tore down, built up, and everything in between over the next 25 years. I can’t remember a summer going by without renovations being made.

When I was five years old my dad decided to dig out a basement. On one particular summer evening, I remember slipping inside our back door with my mom and sister to take a break from playing and get a drink. My dad was working below. As We stood in the kitchen we noticed the wall start to move. My mom rushed us out of the house and screamed at my dad from the back yard. There are few things I remember well from five years old, but the image of my dad running up the hill and the house caving in behind him I can play in my mind clear as day. I remember watching the pink sunset that night and the dust settling as my sister and I sat in our yard terrified and my parents rushed around to assess the damage and make calls. Our kitchen and part of the upstairs has fallen in where my dad had been working.

That disaster was the start of the most memorable summer of my childhood. Dirt piles everywhere, tractors coming and going, huge pipes to crawl through. Countless English papers were written about those particular three months of my life for the next two decades. Forget the trips to Disneyland, the vacations to sandy beaches and amusement parks. THAT summer is what I look back on with the fondest of memories.

If you were to ask my parents to honestly recall the events that took place that evening and the months that followed, you would likely get a much different story. While we were romping around playing Peter Pan on dirt piles and unearthing century-old artifacts, my parents were battling insurance companies. I’m sure many nights were spent stressing over architecture plans and building permits while we slept soundly after a full day in the sun. On top of all the stress they were facing, my dad broke his ankle while working on the project. Their adult reality was night-and-day different from ours as kids.

Earlier this spring my husband and I embarked on our own project of rather large proportions. We knew when we moved into our old home in the country we would have to fix the septic system at some point. That point came sooner than anticipated, and, as most projects go, everything that could go wrong, well, did. In a very big way.


Before it all was destroyed…


Piles and piles of dirt and sand, tractors coming and going, trees being torn out. Fighting county regulations and praying the inspectors would be flexible, reasonable and kind. I almost cried as I looked out the window the first day to see a muddy hole where our giant, beautiful pine trees once stood.

But among all the chaos comes an entirely different story. Our three boys wouldn’t tell you about the phone calls and the plans, the permits and the worry. Their story begins with the coolest tractors that currently line our driveway and Mr. P, who drives them that let them climb inside and check them out. It’s about mounds and mounds of sand and dirt, running from one to the other and getting so dirty their bath water turns to an icky, brown, thick consistency. I would imagine it would include eating frozen pizza (a time of two more than once, I’m embarrassed to admit) while the water was turned off and mom couldn’t do dishes. THEIRS is a story of a spring worth remembering.

IMG_20150409_144157_614 IMG_20150409_144429_678 IMG_20150409_144343_146Sometimes as adults we long for those care-free days when troubles were simply an adventure. We remember the “good old days” and forget that we are remembering with a child-like view. I have certainly had flash-backs this month as my boys have dug in the dirt and shouted with glee while my husband and I stress and wished I was back on that side of life.

Then I think about my parents. When they tell the story from those many years ago, they tell of the adventure, the little miracles along the way, and the FUN the kids had as we experienced the excitement. As we face adulthood and all the challenges that come with it, I hope we can live vicariously, even if only a little, through the lives of our children. We will undoubtedly have to face the bills, the paperwork, the phone calls and the frustrations, but they don’t. I hope I can look back and remember the joy on my boys’ faces and see moments like this through those innocent, child eyes. As adults, let’s remember to stress the stress, carry the burdens, and pay the expenses. But when all is said and done, let’s let our kids be kids, and let’s remember to try to see the world even if only a little through their child eyes. Because theirs is the story worth sharing.


Categories: children, House projects | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Create a free website or blog at