Thursday, April 14, 2011

Tiny Bit of Cuteness...

Today was not fun.

Eric stayed up very late last night (thereby interfering with my sleep).

Markos was especially whiney and defiant

The IRS changed our "status" to the dreaded (but not unexpected) "we will be sending you a packet informing you of what additional information you need to send us".  Or, as I like to refer to it, "we want to make this as hard as possible so that you will hopefully give up and we can keep your money, or at the very least, we want to keep your money for as long as we possibly can so we can earn the interest on it instead of you".

I had to wake Markos up from his nap (which he desperately needed) in order to get Kenzie to piano on time.

While at piano, the school nurse at Daniel's school called to report that Daniel would be coming home with a "closed head injury report" and I needed to be watching for signs of head injury/concussion.  Apparently, he and a friend smashed heads during recess and he had quite a large bump and bruise on his face.

Daniel came home and really did have a large bump and bruise just above his eye!

Lacrosse pictures.  Enough said.

The kids were fighting all evening.

Did I already say that Markos was being awful and wouldn't listen at all?

I walked into the playroom at Chick-fil-a after dinner to get Markos, just as a dad was furiously carrying his daughter out, cursing about how "that #*%$! kid bit her *$%!# toe".   
(Yes, that kid turned out to be Markos.)

Markos pushed it to the limit until we were driving home, telling me 'no', refusing to obey, just generally being a turd, so he was told that he had to go to bed early.  THAT did not make him happy.

Thankfully, prior to learning that Markos was, in fact, the toe biter, the awesome balloon animal lady who was working at CFA tonight made this for Markos:

 Thereby giving me a tiny bit of cuteness in a day of crap.

Sadly, she also made both boys these giant swords...

Thereby bringing an abrupt end to the cuteness.  

Praying for a better day tomorrow.

Yet this I call to mind
   and therefore I have hope:
Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
   for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
   great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion;
   therefore I will wait for him.” 
Lamentations 3:21 - 24

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

A Moment of Quiet

This morning, after getting Mackenzie up and off to school, then getting Daniel and Markos up, dressed, and fed, I sat at the computer to flip through the various blogs that I follow.  It was an especially loud morning for Markos (and that's saying something because that boy is LOUD all.the.time!)  It really grates on my nerves sometimes.  Actually, who am I kidding?  Most of the time! 

Anyway, I was enjoying a few moments of quiet reading on the computer until Markos came upstairs and began to screech and yell while playing right next to me on the floor.  I kept asking him to be quiet, but that seemed to just make him screech more.  While I attempted to quiet the deafening play, I was reading a heart-wrenching post by Linny at A Place Called Simplicity.  She is in Uganda right now and was posting about an encounter that she had.  Read it here.

Markos continued to yell at my side as tears began to roll down my cheeks.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him notice that I was crying.  He immediately got quiet and began to come closer and closer to my side, his eyes fixed on my face.  I tried, but failed, to stop the tears because I knew that he was concerned.   Then, in the softest, sweetest voice, he whispered, "Mommy, poor."  I picked him up and sat him on my lap facing me.  He looked into my eyes and again said, "Mommy, poor."  He wrapped both arms around my neck and hugged me as tightly as he could,with his head snuggled against my cheek, continuing to whisper, "Mommy, poor; Mommy, poor."

When Markos gets hurt, he rarely cries and if he does, it's only for a very short time.  I want him to learn that it's ok to cry, and now that he has a family, when he does, someone will notice and will respond.  So I frequently scoop him up when I see him fall or bonk his head, snuggle him close, and in an exaggerated, sing-songy voice say, "awww, poor Markos....poor Markos".  

Now, he was attempting to comfort me in that same way, but he had the words just a little mixed up.  I wiped my tears and assured him that Mommy was ok, that I had just read something sad, but I was ok.  He quietly held me anyway and continued to whisper "Mommy, poor".

No, my sweet boy, Mommy is not poor.  She is rich!  Blessed beyond belief to have been allowed to participate in God's Kingdom and bring you into our families' lives!