He Knows

"I have a lot of hair, don't I?" Sarah asked the question as I helped her take the barrette out of her silky, blonde hair that is so different from mine. It is true, no one in our family is lacking in the hair department.



"That's how God made it, huh?"



"Yes." I answered.



"And He knows how many hairs are on my head, doesn't He?



"He does. Who taught you that?"



"You did. In our class."



I wanted to share this for every mama who spends 95% of her life wiping counters, changing diapers, and threatening to throw away everything your child owns if they don't clean their room. They do listen. They do remember. And it makes a difference.

"Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."

I have recently found myself struggling with the idea that the God of the universe is concerned over the details of my life. I don't know why I've started struggling with this. He has been such a huge part of all of the details of my life. I am thankful at this time that I have the faith of a 7 year old to remind me. To remind me that He sees, He knows, He cares. It blows my mind. The fact that such a huge God would choose to be so intimate with me is sometimes more than I can wrap my mind around.

For those of you reading this who have chosen to be a true follower of Jesus I want to encourage you. Those of you who have given up homes, careers, dreams and social status, He knows. For those of you who have suffered sickness, despair and broken hearts, He knows. When you wonder if it makes a difference, He knows.

He knows the number of hairs on your head.

Just Bein' Real

I just put my kids to bed. It is 7:15. It is 45 minutes before their normal bedtime, but I just couldn't take another second. Have you ever been there? I've been feeling crummy all week due to a bladder infection and over the weekend we had to make an overnight trip to my mamaw's to attend my mom's cousins funeral. It was nice to get to see my family (my mom and brother even came from P.C.) and my mamaw's new trailer (her house burned down a few months back). However, I made a very fateful decision on that trip. I decided it would be too much trouble to pack up the playpen and that Kate could just sleep with us. WORST DECISION EVER! It came close to tying with my decision to get my bangs permed in 1988, but maybe due to the passing of time, I decided the playpen definitely took the cake.


There has been much controversy over the topic of "The Family Bed", that is the idea of children sleeping with there parents. I am not going to go into the research or issues or anything like that, I'm just going to tell you, it don't work in this family! First of all, I don't sleep well with others. I never have. It doesn't matter what size the bed is, I like to be laying diagonally across it. I have strong moral and spiritual reasons that Josh will be the only man I ever share a bed with, but mostly it is because I've invested a lot of time in adjusting to sharing a bed with him. :) Seriously, I wouldn't even sleep with stuffed animals when I was little because they would always end up smushed or on the floor and I didn't feel it was fair to them. Needless to say, this turned out to be a rough night. Josh had his fan plugged in at the end of the bed so he was turned with his feet on the pillow so the fan could blow on his face. He had also laid on top of the comforter so that it could not be pulled up over my head which is how I sleep so the fan doesn't blow in my face. :) Kate climbed to the headboard and started jumping on the bed. I pulled her down. Kate got down off of the bed and I put her back. Kate climbed on top of Josh and he moved her. Kate lay sideways in between us because there was *plenty* of room to do so. I was highly debating driving the three hours home to get the playpen (sleep deprivation makes us desperate doesn't it?) when she finally curled up next to me and passed out. I couldn't move or adjust the covers, but oh well. I could sleep.

The next day after the funeral my aunt called one of her friends to see if it would be okay to bring the kids to see his miniature ponies. You cannot imagine the excitement this brought my children, especially Sarah who LOVES horses. We packed up and headed down the street. I have to stop here and tell you that I have really been trying to pay more attention to my appearance. By that I mean I have tried to cut back the jeans and tees days to just a couple of days a week. I just have been trying harder to at least appear presentable, y'know what I mean? Well, needless to say, I was not really dressed appropriately for a trip to the barn. I had on my wedge heeled sandals and my trouser jeans (which are very long) and it had been raining earlier and anyway, the only way I can explain what my feet felt when they hit the ground is "mushy". Ewww!! As soon as we pulled up we saw the biggest dog I have ever seen. He was bigger than the ponies! I am not even kidding. I immediately said, "This looks like the dog from The Neverending Story!" I didn't have my camera with me so I will have to get my mom to send me a picture. It was really ridiculous how mesmerized by that dog I was. To show his love for me he sneezed on me and can I just tell you that big dogs have big snot? I know, this is so gross. But my cute trouser jeans were now covered in snot. Luckily I am a mom and this is a normal occurance. :) We enjoyed seeing the ponies and meeting a donkey named Willie Earl.

Soon it was time to pack up and head back to our metropolis, but first Mamaw let us know that she had a pile of bricks from her house that burned down if we wanted to take some. I decided I would get some for the kids to paint and we could use them to make a flower bed. We went to the backyard where they were piled and I have to tell you, fear struck. They were all piled up against a tree, but all I could think was that for sure there had to be a snake in there. I would say I have an irrational fear of snakes, but with the number I have seen (dead on the road) lately, I feel my fear is very rational. I sucked it up and started digging through the bricks. I still had on my wedge heeled sandals and no sooner than I had picked up the third brick, something slithered across my bare toe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I did what any cool, calm and collected girl would do. I screamed! Everybody freaked out and came running. We all looked down and it was an.........
earthworm. Hey, don't judge me! It was a LONG earthworm. I promise you would have screamed too!

After all of that excitement life has been pretty calm. Calm in the way life is calm when you have three kids and live in the parking lot of the church. :) Today has been long. My kids having been pushing every button I have, spilling every drink I fix, and pretty much just bouncing off of walls. I've spent a lot of time on other women's blogs and I have found them so educational and challenging. They talk about meal plans and festive decorations and date nights with their husbands. I feel like they offer really good, practical, useful advice. It got me to thinking about my blog and how I truly have none of that to offer. I started thinking maybe I should just quit this blogging thing altogether if it really isn't building anybody up. But then, I realized that as much as I enjoy those other blogs they often leave me feeling intimidated and way out of their league. While I learn so much and aspire to grow in so many areas of my life, I felt like maybe some of you might feel like I do. That maybe sometimes you too need to know that other people are covered in dog snot and have 20 month olds who climb out of their playpen and sneek into the bathroom to climb on the sink and wash their pacifier. :) Maybe you too have more questions than you have answers most days. Maybe you are just worn out somedays. Me too. Just bein' real...

Parenting is Not for Wimps

I feel that I can confidently say, "Parenting is not for wimps" from great personal experience. I am the parent of a "strong-willed" child. The fact that Josh and I could give life to a strong-willed child came as a shock to all who knew us, including us! You see, Josh and I are about the most passive, go with the flow people you will ever meet. We both have the kind of personality that you can look at us mean or tell us you are disappointed and we will burst into tears and feel like we have received the greatest punishment ever. I always assumed our children would be the same. Boy was I wrong!

On July 15, 2002 God brought Sarah Elizabeth Fidler into our lives. I was 21 years old and totally clueless. Yes, I had read books and watched all of the labor and delivery shows. I was totally prepared to give birth and it was a fairly easy labor. It was the part after labor that I had really never considered. How the heck do you raise a kid? And not just any kid, a strong-willed kid? You see, it started in the hospital. The nurse taught me how to swaddle Sarah and I had it perfected. I would wrap her up in that blanket so tight I thought Houdini couldn't haven't gotten out. Two seconds later she would have it kicked off. I didn't understand it at the time, but she was already showing us her personality, the part that says I'm probably going to do things just because it's exactly what you don't want me to do.

I can honestly say that the first year after Sarah was born was the most miserable of my life. I feel so terrible saying that. I wanted desperately to be one of the mom's who was always glowing, dressed to the nines, holding a homemade pie in one hand and a happy, content baby in the other and telling everyone how being a mom was the best thing that ever happend to me. It just wasn't meant to be for me. I had postpartum bleeding that they finally caught two months after the delivery. It left me completely exhausted and prone to every kind of cold and infection there was. I was also clinically depressed and had gallbladder disease that took 8 months after Sarah was born to be diagnosed. I also lost my papaw that year. Sarah had a blocked tear duct, colic, and kidney reflux that made her prone to kidney infections. And Josh...he had to live with us. The fact that we survived that first year is a testament to the amazing goodness and grace of God.

I was very blessed to have a couple of older mom's who I consider mom mentors. They were old enough to have gained some experience and wisdom, but not so old that they had totally forgotten what it was like to have little ones. Nothing drives me crazier than old women who say things like, "My child never cried, threw a fit, whined, pouted, or even had a dirty diaper." The only hope they give me is that as you get older God completely erases all bad memories of motherhood and fills your head with complete visions of grandeur. :) But back to my mom mentors, one was a lady I worked in the nursery with at our church. She too had a strong-willed child. She felt my pain. She knew what it was like to not be able to go out to eat because even a 6 month old would refuse to sit in the high chair. She understood that getting ready to go somewhere required an extra hour of preparation because a strong-willed child's wardrobe is a great area of emotional breakdown. I'll never forget a day that I decided to put Sarah in the stroller and walk to church. (We lived that close to the church even before we were the preacher's family!) All was well until it was time to go home. Sarah would not go back into the stroller. We had a knock-down dragout and my mentor mom stood patiently holding the diaper bag for me while my child kicked and screamed and probably had everybody else convinced that I was killing her. But my mentor mom understood.

I had never been kicked out of a place until Sarah was born. I had lived a pretty calm, clean life. :) But sure enough we had gone to check on my friend Kim at the hospital and Sarah started crying and we got kicked out. Just a few weeks later (Sarah was about 11 months) we attended the wedding of one of Josh's good friends. Now, let me stop here and say that I do not recommend taking an 11 month old to a wedding at all! But Josh was in the wedding and it was in South Carolina and there was no one we knew to baby-sit. If I could do it all over, I would have stayed at the house with Sarah and heard about it later. But, I was still clueless. Anyway, we sat up in the balcony which I thought would be safe. However, the beautiful sanctuary had old wooden pews and floors which Sarah instantly decided would be great fun to beat her legs on and make as much noise as possible. I decided we would make our escape during the prayer so no one would see us getting up to leave. Of course with my luck, they had a section for deaf people in the balcony and they didn't bow their heads during the prayer because they were watching someone sign the prayer. I had to walk right in front of the translator with my kicking, screaming baby. Oh, the joys of motherhood!

I wish I could say that it gets easier once you are past the toddler years. In some ways, it has. The battles are less frequent, but when they occur they are so much more intense. I used to think 'There is no such thing as a strong-willed child, their parent's just don't know how to discipline them!' Can I just testify to the fact that there is such a thing as a strong-willed child!!! I've since had two more children. They both have their moments of meltdowns and disobedience, but it just doesn't even register on the same scale. They would sit for hours in the car seat or stroller. They would sleep. I feel that I have an appreciation for them that a lot of moms with "good" babies just don't understand.

I don't write this to talk bad about my firstborn. She is truly a special, caring, giving, thoughtful, and bright little girl. While she has provided some of the most challenging, embarrassing, and down-right painful times of my life, she has also provided life-changing, tender, special, and amazing moments of my life. You see, that strong-willed tempermant that makes me feel like I am going to lose my mind sometimes, also causes me to stand in awe. I am absolutely astounded by her ability to stand up to people in a way that I have never had the courage. I am overwhelmed at her persistence and know that she has what it takes to accomplish whatever it is that she is passionate about. I love that little strong-willed girl and I know that God has amazing plans for her. It takes strong-willed people to stay faithful when the going gets tough. It takes strong-willed people to stand up for what they know is right when all of us passive people take a backseat. And I have to say this, having a strong-willed child has taught me that I'm a little more strong-willed than I knew!

So many families have a wild child, black sheep, troublemaker, or whatever they choose to call them. I believe that each of my 3 kids are specially created by God with a unique personality and purpose. It is exhausting raising a strong-willed child. Sometimes it would be so easy to give into all the fits and tantrums. But I know that God has entrusted each of my children to me and that I have the equal responsibilty to discipline, teach, and love my children until they become people He can use in His kingdom. Parenting is definitely not for wimps!!!