Kreative Whim

I've wondered to myself many times why exactly the "Kreative Whim" title is what I chose for my little DIY Kraft business. But I think it's because it describes me so well. I have many little whims... And they are all driven by a deep desire to be creative. 

I have:

A painting whim.

A decorating whim.

A cooking/baking whim.

A repurposing furniture whim.

A photography whim.

A teacher whim.

A graduate student whim.

And yes. A mommy whim.

At any given time my mind is bouncing in a million directions and I have multiple lists of house decorating/organizing projects, To Do's, meal plans & recipes, pictures I want to take/learn to take/edit/create photo books with, and Pinteresty projects to set up for my kiddos. I'm researching grad school programs and trying to decide exactly which direction I want my career to go in... Once I go back to work. 

And I think (often) how much nicer my little life would be without so many whims. 

If I had no whims:

My house would be clean.

My kids would have a very consistent daily schedule.

Supper would be on the table before 10 pm.

I might wear make-up/fix my hair (probably not) 

There would not be an unpainted shelf sitting in the garage that I made my hubby build. 

My guest room would have a bed for guests instead of disassembled furniture.

We could park both cars in our garage... 

But if I had no whims:

I would miss the opportunity to meet so many people in my small city.

My girls wouldn't learn the fun in taking risks and making mistakes.

My house would just be a house.

I would have many fewer pictures of my girls.... Like thousands fewer.

And so now I'm on to a new whim. Okay-  an additional whim. Because let's be honest. I'm not letting go of my past whims. I'm going to try and turn this little outlet blog of mine into a REAL blog. This is my 2nd blog (I started with my single life blog "See Me Beautiful on Tumblr) and it's plainly outdated since we are now the Walton4. So my next blog will probably be the Kreative Whim blog because I have no clue what I'll write about but it leaves room for all the whims:) 

But who knows- I may be posting here for a while until I learn the ropes! 

Dear 2nd Children- your parents DO love you!

Dear 2nd Children. 

Your parents do love you. I promise. Just as much as they love the 1st one. I know this. I'm a mommy to a 2nd so I'm kind of an expert. 

I have a confession. I was Baby 1. So I don't know exactly what you 2nd babies go through but my middle brother has serious 2nd child syndrome. Well- he's kind of grown out of it... Kind of. But I learned from watching him that all you 2nd children think you are deprived. 

No baby book. 

No pictures by yourself. 

No one cared if your pacifier hit the floor or You ate a little dirt. 

You weren't the first and you may not even be the baby.

 No significance whatsoever.  

I'm going to tell you a secret. We love you- we haven't forgotten you. We are just. So. Tired. 

Two littles is waaaaaay more than one. No one prepares you for that. 

Two means there is one for each hand. Two means: 

someone is always awake. 

Someone is always hungry. 

Someone always needs a diaper changed. 

Yesterday was my 2nd child's 2 month birthday. You KNOW what that means. Sticker pictures! With my first I had those monthly sticker pictures marked on the calendar. I knew exactly what cute outfit and headband would be worn to coordinate with the colors of the sticker. My whole day revolved around taking that sticker picture. 

And then it was my darling 2nd baby's turn. I didn't forget. I knew alllll day it was her 2 month birthday. The 2 month sticker mocked me from the corner where it waited for its photo shoot. But that moment never came. There was never a lull in the feeding, diaper changing, cleaning up, grocery shopping in the torrential flood routine.  And then there was... At bedtime. But Mommy was so tired. And baby 2 was snuggled in her pj's already. And we just decided to wait 1. More. Day. 

But you know what? There are perks to coming in 2nd. 

Look at Baby 1's pictures. You will probably find a whole bunch of blurry, boring pictures. Everything Baby 1 did was (apparently) the cutest thing ever and your parents got a quick picture of it. Every. SINGLE. Time. Now look at your pictures. There may only be a third of the quantity but I bet your pictures are full of character and flattering angles (no more up the nose, 57 chins shots). 

And you get to have way more fun burying and digging cookies up in the yard and still getting to eat them. And running around barefoot. And missing bathtime every few nights. And getting to join in on pretty much every privilege your older sibling had to earn. 

So I'm sorry your baby book is empty and we missed a blurry picture of your 1st, 17th, and 32nd smile. I apologize we call you the wrong name and stick a paci in your mouth at 4 am when you start crying before rolling over to fall asleep again. 

But I promise. We love you just as much. We were just as excited to meet you. And we think you are just as adorable... But this time your pictures are actually adorable too. 

BOOM!

 I wasn't created to be the Master of Motherhood. I was created to learn Motherhood from the Master. 

-Rachel Kincaid (influencenet.com)

Y'all! Really? Have you ever heard better words of encouragement for a mommy? Not me! 

I pretty much blog.... NEVER- these days. I want to. I try to put the words together- but in the end I feel as though I have nothing to say.  Let me rephrase- as though I have nothing WORTHWHILE to say. Nothing of any interest. To anyone. 

I'm in a place where I feel that I fail more than I succeed.  I forget to stick new wipes in the diaper bag. I can't get my 21 month old to eat "real" food.  I'm consistently 5 minutes late everywhere I go... Even though I give myself a 2-3 hour window to prepare/feed/pump/change my girls before any scheduled activity.  Something I'm eating upsets my baby's tummy.  I lose my temper. I forget to put the cheese in my squash casserole. My house- my floors- my bathrooms..... The list is so long.  

Spiritual warfare is running rampant in my life.  Satan is finding these little instances and building strongholds to rip me apart. 

In the matter of a few, short weeks I had an acquaintance I considered a close friend tell me our friendship was more work than enjoyable. And, essentially, no longer worth it.  Wow- painful does not begin to describe the hurt created in that statement. 

And a job I enjoyed, that was ideal for my family's current needs and has brought many uplifting and positive friendships into my life, was taken from me. No warning. No explanation. No apology. 

Confidence rocked. 

Crushed.  

Dejected. 

Because failing at being a mommy, wife, and homemaker wasn't enough- Satan just wanted to dig in a little deeper.  

And rooted deep in my heart right now are those lies. 

"You aren't good enough"

"You aren't worth being friends with"

"You can't teach" 

"You. Are. Failing" 

I do not know what God has in store for my family right now.  I am scared. Hurt. Confused. 

But I know- The answer lies in trusting Him to guide my steps. To surrender from trying to be the master so I can learn from the Master. HOPE and TRUTH whisperer into my fragile heart. 

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance in what we do not see. -Hebrews 11:1

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

Loving the Unloved

12 years ago I dove into the special needs community with  my whole heart through Extra Special People.  I was given the opportunity to know and love so many kids, young adults, and families with Autism, intellectual disabilities, Downs, Cerebral Palsy... and the list goes on.  But the greatest thing about ESP was that our campers were only campers. They were not singled out because of  a disability.  And, thankfully, most of our campers came from very loving and supportive families and communities.  Some going on to become Homecoming Queen, sky dive from airplanes, and become personal friends with UGA's football team.

Unfortunately, loving these campers also meant putting my heart on the line to be hurt.  In the last 8 years I have said good-bye to 4 of my campers.  Each time my heart has broken but I have rested peacefully knowing how loved each of them were, before and after death.

This morning is different.  7 years ago I started teaching at a school in my hometown. My job was to develop an Autism classroom, primarily put into place because of 2 little boys. Twins.  Wild. Both with Autism, both nonverbal, both hyperactive, both "unloveable".  That is what I remember most about beginning my career with N & J.  These were not children preceded with, "Oh! You are going to love them. They are so sweet, they are so funny."  These were students that I was told, "Get ready! Are you sure you're up for this? Do your doors lock? They bite- they scratch- they spit. Good luck getting help from home".  So I prepared.  I had alarms put on the doors and arranged furniture to make it harder to escape. I removed staplers and picture frames and anything breakable from reach.  I researched and planned.

What I did not prepare for was how much these 2 little boys would change my heart.  How much better I would become because of them.  It wasn't a job for the faint of heart. I was bitten, I was scratched, I had countless breakouts of ringworm.  I went home exhausted, without lunch, every day. I wore no jewelry and most days put my hair in a ponytail so it couldn't be yanked on.  I rearranged my class 15 times.  I called on our OT and SLP's constantly for assistance and suggestions. And I LOVED.  Almost immediately I fell in love with the mischievous grins on these 2 little faces.  I learned to dance to the music J hummed and rhythms N drummed.  I learned to advocate for them- to fight for their opportunity to eat lunch in the lunchroom, go to PE with other classes, attend music and assemblies.  I wanted, so badly, for my boys to experience the sense of community I knew they deserved. To walk down the hall and have other teachers and students tell them "Hello!", for people to realize when they were absent.  And it did happen.  Students began to ask questions and teachers began to invite us to their classrooms for fun activities.  3rd graders began asking their teachers if they could come read to my students.  And I saw these two, unlovable boys become loved.
After 3 years it was time for me to move on and I agonized over the decision to leave N & J. I had three other students I loved as well but they would be fine.  They had support systems. Their families  had support systems.  But what about N & J? Would another teacher love them the same? Would another teacher be able to build a rapport with their mom?  Would she worry over them in the summer and make sure they had groceries or bed sheets...

In the 3 1/2 years since I left them I have had a few opportunities to visit. I have had the chance to speak with their teachers and therapists and keep up with their progress.  And I have talked about them constantly.  I tell stories of the funny, sad, frustrating, and gross things they would do.  When I close my eyes I see N looking at me with his head cocked, one eye open, one eye closed and his finger on the side of his nose.  I see J rocking back and forth quietly humming whatever song we sang in Morning Meeting.  I hear their giggles and see their smiles.  I can still feel the death grip of their precious hugs.

This morning I woke up to learn that my boys are no longer with us on Earth.  My heart is in so many pieces and I'm not sure I will ever run out of tears.  But my initial despair was over the fact that no one would mourn them.  No one, but me, would truly miss them- or have learned from them and been blessed by their short lives.  And then my phone started ringing and text messages began coming in.  Teachers I worked with checking on me, crying with me, and mourning the loss of two precious boys that MADE A DIFFERENCE!  N & J had lives that mattered.  They taught the teachers and students around them about acceptance.  They taught us that everyone is lovable.  My heart is so comforted in knowing that these boys will be mourned and missed. And remembered.

When I read paperwork for new students and feel the undercurrent of what the former service providers are really saying,  "this student is unlovable", I make sure to open my heart extra wide for them.  When a student comes into my classroom, no matter how difficult, I look for something in their personality that is lovable.

                                                    N & J with their big sister.

Slow Learner

I don't know why I can't JUST BE who I want to be. Marriage is hard. Motherhood is hard. And most days I go to sleep feeling like a complete failure. 

I have a sweet, young friend that is mother-to-3, media specialist, co-nursery coordinator, patient and loving- and answers my questions multiple times a week about the most bizarre of situations. And every time I see her I think, "Why can't I be more like her?". Why am I so overwhelmed and I only have one (for a few more weeks) child? And I only work part time.  What's wrong with me? 

And then I realize, I'm a slow learner. I know exactly what's wrong with me. What's wrong with me is I am trying to be someone I'm just not. 

I think most of us want to be able to parent like we were parented. At least in my little group of friends- I think we feel like our parents did pretty good. We have fond memories of our childhood. And we want to pass along those same opportunities. My mom was a fun mom- we had picnics and baked Christmas cookies and made little English muffin pizzas.... We camped out by the Christmas tree and spent days at the beach. And our house was always clean. 

What you have to realize is our wasn't just clean. It was Venita-clean. Laundry was washed, folded, AND put away. Dishes were not left in the sink. Floors were vacuumed,swept and mopped almost daily. I've never seen anything in my mom's house that resembles dust. Supper was cooked at a decent time and my mom managed to have all of us bathed and dressed AND she had herself bathed and dressed. And I'm pretty sure we were rarely late.

And you know what- I drove my mom crazy. I knew I did. I wanted to make her happy but Venita-clean just never worked for me. I always had 1 too many books on my nightstand, and an art project or 3 or4 laying around. My clothes didn't always make it back to their "home" and I honestly don't remember you have to dust until i see dust. But to me- being Venita-clean is part of being a good mom. 

So I try to be the fun mom for Whitlee and bake cookies and play in the yard and read books.... But I can never let go of the nagging feeling that I am failing. Most nights I go to bed with dishes still in my sink. My laundry rarely gets from the basket to my drawers or closet. And supper is usually ready just in time for Whitlee's bedtime. All those things that drove my mom crazy about me.... Now drive myself crazy about me. 

I was texting with another sweet friend last week about how defeated I feel.  How weak and incompetent and frustrated. How easily I lose my temper and how often I don't even want to get out of bed because the day has already beaten me. And she told me that I was one of the best moms she knew. That my house was always clean and my daughter was happy. That i cooked supper and crafted.... And while I know she is seeing only the best of me - I wish I could give myself that measure of Grace. 

That I could be okay with having a Kate-clean house and picking up supper every now and then. That I could take a deep breath and enjoy my child and my husband instead of feeling like what I have to offer them is just never quite enough. My husband is loving and gracious and selfless in so many ways--- and i know there are many (probably most) days that he looks at me and ended what happened to the woman he married. I'm barely recognizable at this point. 

Surviving.

I know- every blog post I start with, "I'm going to try to blog more".... And then I don't. I remember a year ago--- struggling to get sleep, wash my hair, feed my baby, remember to keep up with friends...and everyone telling me "It gets easier". No- it doesn't. A year ago I could sit my 3 month old up in a bumbo with some toys and jump in the shower or wash bottles or do any number of quick chores. Now I have a mobile, opinionated toddler.... And I cannot get a thing done. So I am surviving (there is truly no other way to describe it. It's not as negative as it sounds--- but I'm never ahead, never caught up.... Simple hanging on and trying to get it all right). And every now and then I decide to actually take the time to type up one of these posts floating around in my head. 

It's November--- and the cliched Thankful posts have begun.... But it's one cliche I enjoy and wish I could hang onto longer into the year. I'm not making a commitment to postwhy I am thankful each day... I don't need one more thing to try and keep up with each day. But today I will tell you a couple of things  I am thankful for. 

Today is orphan Sunday. I'm surprised at how many people don't know that. But then I remember that, to many people, adoption is not a calling. For me it is. And God continually places friends and family members in various stages of the adoption process in my life. I have learned so much and am so encouraged by their stories. So today I am thankful that my favorite "orphans" are adopted and living forever in loving homes. 

First, of course, is my nephew, Micah. For Craig and I Micah has been the single most influential person in our adoption journey. He alone helped me to truly see the need for foster parents and families willing to foster-to-adopt. I could not imagine my family without him, nor could I imagine Whitlee growing up without him for a cousin. He brings so much mischief and joy to our family.  And while our fostering plans are temporarily on hold (that alone will take numerous blog posts), I am thankful God used Micah to open my eyes and heart to the orphans within my own community. 

Second, I have to thank sweet Henry for all he has taught me. Henry's parents became my friends in the earlier stages of their adoption journey. I was thrilled to learn of their impending adoption and blessed to walk alongside them in the journey. But what impacted me most in Henry's story is SEEING a parent's ability to unconditionally love both a biological child and a heart child. I have told myself over and over that I can (and will) love all my children completely regardless of how they join our family. But after having Whitlee I began to doubt my ability to love ANY child as fiercely as I loved her. Yet only weeks after Henry was welcomed into his parents' lives, they learned he would be a big brother in less than 9 months. His parents' hearts were overjoyed, yet their love for Henry never diminished. They have become the embodiment of "love makes a family". And once again I realize that God strategically placed Henry's family in my life specifically to reassure me in an area that caused me to fear the adoption calling. 

And it appears my opinionated toddler has decided I've blogged long enough!!maybe this post will get finished one day... But most likely I will have forgotten my words by the time I come back around. 

Tender Heart, Growing Baby

Tonight I rocked a baby to sleep for the last time.... Tomorrow I will still rock her- she will still be MY baby--- but the rest of the world will see her as a toddler.  I'm not ready. I've shed a few tears about the transition. If only because I still feel like a new mom (technically I think you ARE a new mom until subsequent children arrive, because each day,age,stage are still  new to you). 

I thought about taking a picture because my little one is so pretty when she sleeps.  But some things I want to hold in my heart. The way she loves to be snuggled just so- and how she pats my face while she fights sleep because she really wants me to play with her- or at least smile while she talks to me. And it's so hard not to because she makes such fun, shrieky sounds these days. I'm not sure a picture can do those moments justice. 

I know in my heart Whitlee will still be my same baby tomorrow that she is tonight, but my heart remains tender tonight. Realizing with each day she is becoming so much more independent. Those days where she relied on me for every little thing were draining, but they were so pure and innocent. Her very sweetest, snuggliest moments are already behind me. Soon she will want just a little space when I try to hold her tight. She will want to walk instead of being carried. And part of the joy of parenting is allowing these moments- knowing your love gave your babies' roots so they could spread their wings. But still I hold onto the baby moments. I relish the nights I have to rock her to sleep and the mornings to eat breakfast with her chattering away.  

There have been so many days in the past year where I have not been the mommy I wanted to be. Where my patience was thin or I was exhausted. Days where I was bogged down beneath 3-k planning, nursery coordinating, paint partying, cross fitting, errand running, and house cleaning, when I would reflect back on my day and know Whitlee (and Craig) did not get the best of me. Today was not that day. Today I was the mommy I dream of being (although we did partake in Moe's Monday and Whitlee may have eaten remnants of my burrito along with fruit as her super healthy supper so I could be that mom). We played in the yard and on the swings.  We danced to Disney songs and sang "The Fruit of the Spirit" on repeat because it makes my girl giggle. We played in the floor and read books. And I can look back on today and know that on this day Whitlee knows I love her beyond measure. She knows that her smiles and laughter make my heart melt. She feels safe. She is happy.

I read an article recently about not having a child-centered family but a Christ-centered family. I agreed with so many points and made note to partake in many of the listed ideals as Whitlee grows. And while I do not want my life

to revolve solely around my child (and have tried to maintain a lifestyle that reflects this belief throughout the year) living a Christ-centered life is being a servant leader. One of the greatest ministry fields a parent has is the home and family. I truly believe that teaching children to love on and serve others comes much more naturally for them

when they know how it feels to be treated the same. 

This entry has rambled around just a bit... But that is how my thoughts seem to be lately- a jumble of emotions and song lyrics and snapshots of the day, reflections of my actions and reactions to what I read. 

But Whitlee, if you read this one day-

I am already so proud of the joy you bring to people and the spunky spirit you entertain us with. This year has been an unbeatable adventure. Mommy loves you so much and cannot wait to see who you become!