So I apparently have an adult child...

Whether or not I am old enough or mature enough, life has a way of making things happen that I am never quite ready for. Whether or not I am old enough or mature enough, I realized this week that my child is, in fact, an adult.

At some point in our relationship you grew up. And as you did you took on more and more roles in my life. At some point you became less dependent on me and I became more dependent on you. You became a confidant. You became a role model. And you became my friend. That is a cherished and valued relationship for me. It was hard to let go of your childlike tendencies. It was hard to watch some of your failures. But each of those moments made us as close as we are today. And that friendship has been worth every heartache. 

But that relationship isn't done growing. We have a whole lifetime of evolution still. There will be more ups and downs. There will be more struggles and more heartaches. And I pray daily that there will be more friendship. 

One of the biggest struggles you and I deal with is control. Your dad pointed out to me this morning that so much of what you are doing right now is trying to be in control. We all deal with this. Work and school and church and other responsibilities dictate so much of our time. There are very little areas even in our adult life where we truly get to feel like we are in control of our finances, our emotions, or our choices. Keep in mind that I am not trying to control you. If I could or should have stopped you, I would have never let you serve a church mission. I would have never let you move across the country for school. I would have stopped you from declaring a major that seems fun, and tried to force a major that could guarantee 100% success 100% of the time. These, and so many others, are very adult choices that you made on your own. They take you further into an independent world. And they are reminders of how much our relationship really has changed. But these were your choices. And they were good ones. And even though I was terrified, even though I was worried, I trusted you to make them. It wasn't easy letting go. But I did. I resisted the urge to physically lock you in a room and pretend you were still a teenager. I resisted the urge to shelter you from any and everything that could have happened. That urge was there. And I resisted. 

There are many more of these adult choices coming. And they are yours to make. I will be terrified, and I will be worried. And sometimes I will see the picture clearer than you. Sometimes I will bite my tongue and let you fall. And sometimes I will do everything I can to guide you. Because that's what I do. I do not subscribe to the idea that a parents job ends. Ever. Not when a child turns 18. Not when a child seems past hope. I subscribe to the idea that families are forever. And I subscribe to the idea that I committed to be your mom for exactly that long. 

Please remember that my need to defend and protect you will never go away. Not because you are a child. But because you are my child. Regardless of your age, your success, your marital status, or your emotional state. Wherever you go, whatever you do, you are mine. And that kind of love just doesn't fade.

Reasons I like to cry.

Let's face it. I really don't actually like to cry. My eyes get blotchy. My head hurts. It's never a good time because one of 5 little people inevitably wants my attention right as I begin to break down. But the facts of life dictate that I will cry. I have to. I just can't avoid the activity altogether. So if I am going to cry, my new goal is to spend as little time as possible crying because I am sad or angry or hurting. I am just going to find good reasons to cry.

Today I have cried a few times. And even when I am not crying I can just feel the emotion bubbling right below the surface. And I realize, fully and undeniably, that my emotions are so strong today for all the same reasons that I got emotional a year ago and the year before that. It's Father's Day. And darn it all, I have a LOT to be grateful for in that department.

I have always been surrounded by great fathers. I grew up in this little bubble of high functioning people who had very strong family ties and a great sense of responsibility in the fathering area. I don't mean to discredit anything that my grandfathers or my own father did. But I definitely missed the concept that not all fathers are like that. Not all fathers come home every day. Not all fathers tuck you in and spend time listening to how your day went. Not all fathers miss you when they are away on trips. And not all fathers discipline in a righteous way that actually molds and shapes a life in a positive light. So, thank you, Dad, for making all of those difficult and monumental things seem so common and simple. Thank you for not letting me realize that there was an alternative to the things you did. And thank you for instilling in me the desire to raise my family the same way.

And the thank you's continue. Because somewhere along the line I accidentally picked up this man who totally changed the course of my life. I really was not looking for him. I actually tried really really really hard to not see him there. And then I kind of sort of fought this whole parenting thing. Not that I didn't want kids. But the idea of raising children just seemed too draining and overwhelming. Yet something about him just makes the whole process fun. Almost carnival on the boardwalk with funnel cake kind of fun. Every day. I seriously do not know children that laugh or smile as much as his do. I do not know a house that is as messy and chaotic and yet still so comfortable to me as his is. And I do not know respect and admiration as deep as what I have for him as a father. He spends his every waking moment honing his talent. He wakes up early just to spend alone time with his daughter. He spends 8-10 hours every day trying as best as he can to be a positive father figure to teens who may or may not have another one. He has given years and years to boys who he welcomed into our home and didn't hesitate to lovingly correct when they needed it, or forgive when it was desperately desired. And at the end of his day, he chooses to play games or make ice cream or any other activity that will reinforce to his children how much he loves them. He begs me to let him do bath-time and bed-time because he hasn't "gotten to see them all day." He is one-of-a-kind. And he lets me be his partner. Thank you, Brandon. For everything.

Mahal Kita. And Happy Father's Day.

Pancakes with Dad

We are not morning people. By we, I mostly mean me. But as a general rule, our family does not function well before, let's say, 10am. So Brandon has this great job. Really, he does. And he loves Paige immensely. (And yes, my thoughts will eventually connect. I just need a minute to connect them.) The one fatal flaw of this job is that he works M-F from 1 or 2 until 9pm. It means that he leaves for work just before Paige gets home from school. He misses out on dinner with his family. And he doesn't get to be around for homework, baths, chores, or the cherished bedtime ritual. And part of the irony of all of this is that he works with teenage girls who are coping with neglect, abuse, and all sorts of "dad" issues. He sees first-hand how vital his role is as a father. And I think he gets really down on himself about not seeing Paige very much throughout the week.

So, here is where my thoughts connect. I hope. My love and admiration for Brandon grew a million times over this week. I never think that is possible since I already love and admire him times infinity. But it did. That sleep-deprived, over-stressed, maxed-out guy set his alarm clock for 7am every morning this week. He went in and woke up Paige and declared that 7-7:30 was their special Dad/Paige time. They went downstairs and made pancakes, waffles, hot chocolate, cereal... whatever they were in the mood for that day and spent a good half hour talking about school and life and everything else. Eventually Hailey and Easton would wake up and join the party. But Brandon got Paiger ready and loaded up the stroller and walked Miss Paige (and her siblings) over to the school every day this past week so that I could rest. I don't know. Maybe it seems like such a small little thing. Pancakes with dad while the rest of the house sleeps. But for this sleep-deprived, over-stressed, maxed-out mom I think it is a pretty great definition of love.

Happy Father's Day

..... one week late.

So I let these thoughts spin around in my head all last Sunday, and I never took the time to get them down! Par for my course, I'm afraid.

Last Sunday morning we were getting three kids ready for 9am church. This is never an easy task. There is a lot of chaos and a lot of little details to take care of. Most of the details that get overlooked include eating breakfast, getting kids to brush teeth, and tying the bows on the backs of little girls dresses. Brandon (and Dwight) try so hard to help out. But there are so many jobs that only the Momma can do. For example, only the Momma can tie those bows. Daddy might try. But let's face it, he grew up in a house full of testosterone. It just looks a little like a double knot in a shoelace.

So on Sunday, Father's Day, Brandon tied Hailey's bow. And it brought on one of those flash flood tear reactions that is so common in our house when the Momma is pregnant. My marriage flashed before my eyes, and I was shocked to realize that the guy standing in my bedroom was NOT the guy I married 7 1/2 years ago. Sounds like something out of a scary movie, right? But it is so true. The man who currently sleeps in my bed and kisses me goodnight does not look or act like the skinny shy-guy I fell in love with. So here is the phenomenon that shocks me. I fell in love with that guy. Socially awkward. Extremely thin. Content to play video games without seeming to want a job or an education or any of those other things that society uses to define success. I was head over heels. Twitterpated, even. So someone explain to me why my current husband does not resemble that guy I fell so hard for, and yet I am even more in love with this new guy?!? How is that possible?

Anyhow, one of the major ways that I have watched Brandon change over time is his ability to relate to small kids... and females. So the fact that he is the father of two (soon to be four) small kids... who also happen to be female... was somewhat scary for me. He would try so hard to help out. He would try doing ponytails and matching outfits. (One of my favorite quotes was, "What do you mean those 5 things don't match... everything is pink?") I was always trying to find those careful ways to re-do the ponytail or change the outfit without hurting his tender feelings. I still laugh about the mental images I have of him awkwardly applying nail polish to little toes or sitting in agony while getting his hair styled. Or even him having to sit through an entire 30 minute ballet class. He has always been such a good sport. Always willing to do anything that a little blonde-haired, blue-eyed sweetheart would ask of him. And now I think of that silly little bow on Father's Day, tied more perfectly than Martha Stewart could have managed. And it just sort of sums up everything he has become, and everything this perfect Daddy has mastered.

I love you, Brandon Edward Hughes.

True Love

So this blog post is titled "true love." Not because I want to pretend to have the answers about what that means or how to identify it. But because I want to understand it. So if I take enough notes then maybe one day I will have some sort of definition for it.

Yesterday I was listening to the song Mad by Ne-Yo. It is a really good song. The lyrics are so true and easy to relate to. They make you realize a lot of things about conflict and communication. But the chorus really kind of got to me yesterday. He says:

"Baby, I know sometimes it's gonna rain. But can we make up now, cause I can't sleep through the pain. We can fuss and we can fight, as long as everything's all right between us, before we go to sleep. I don't wanna go to bed, mad at you, and I don't want you to go to bed, mad at me."

This was so thought provoking for me because I have always vehemently opposed the advice that newlyweds are often given to never go to bed angry. I have seen so many occasions when couples are so determined to work things out that they will stay up all night arguing. Two or three in the morning and they are unwilling to let it go until the next day when all they need to see things more clearly is to get some sleep!!  So this made my thoughts go in two directions. The first one was recognizing the security I feel in my marriage. I have many relationships where conflict prevents me from sleeping. These range from ex-boyfriends, to professional relationships, to friends and relatives. The "pain" is so intense that I cannot let it go for long enough to get some shut eye. But this so rarely happens with Brandon. He and I can glare at each other, say snotty things, and still sleep just fine. Is this because I love him less? Because this relationship is less valuable than the others? I really don't think so. There is a certain level of trust and comfort that I have with him that I have never found with anyone else on Earth. Sometimes I just need to sleep it off. And first thing in the morning I am rested and refreshed and ready to apologize for whatever trivial thing got us both so angry the night before. I know I love him. And I know he loves me. And I know that particular love is going to be there forever.

(Now in my quest to be perfect, I know I need to work on not glaring and not saying the snotty things I do. I know there is that little fragment of a chance that one of us will not wake up in the morning and there would be lots of regret and remorse for things said that can never be taken back. But the fact of the matter is that I am human. And so is Brandon. We are both going to say and do things out of anger that we don't really mean.)

The other direction that my brain went running was about the times with Brandon that I can't sleep through the pain. I cannot remember a night when I lost sleep over a time he hurt me. With others in my life I hold onto that pain and let it eat away at me because I feel some need to. In some way my hurting with show them how horrible they were to me. If I really let it fester and ruin my night then they will really understand what they have done. (Sounds very intelligent, right?) But this never happens with Brandon. If he says or does something that hurts me, I have a tendency to recognize that he probably didn't mean it. I don't internalize it the same way. The nights I have lost sleep over a fight with Brandon are the nights that I am filled with pain and remorse for something I said or did to him.  If I know I hurt him, I cannot just let it go. Even if he is snoozing away in the bed next to me. I cannot just sleep through the pain of knowing I caused him any kind of hurt. I don't know if I am making any sense. But it is such a different kind of sleeplessness. And to me it is one of those indicators of true love.

Thanks, Ne-Yo.