Five Things You Should Know About Motherhood

I wasn't there, but I think I know the look on your face when you saw those two pink lines. And then you looked at the instructions at least 37 times because you were sure that you must have misunderstood how to hold the stick or pee on it the right direction. Or maybe two lines was a negative? Or maybe you just needed another cup of coffee and there was really only one line?

But no, it was a positive.

And for about three minutes and twenty-two seconds, you have instantly become the happiest person on planet earth.  You're thinking of how to tell your husband and then extended family and before you know it you already have color schemes and names picked out.

But then at the three minute and twenty-three second mark, you thoughts dramatically change and all of a sudden you're thinking about that glass of wine you had at dinner three nights ago and wondering if he or she will somehow glean only your less favorable features and if you will know how to properly install a carseat and before you know it you're ready to dial CPS and give them a nine-month heads up of your impending parenthood.

These things--they're normal.

For the next nine months, you will find yourself experiencing the entire spectrum of emotions from "I'M GOING TO BE A MOOOOM!!" to "I should put this poor kid up for adoption right now."

But when that sweet thing comes into this world, you find that all those emotions melt away. The pains of pregnancy will pass and you will enter a whole new world that will leave you thinking:

"Is there anyway I can stuff this child back into my abdomen?"

Here's why:

1) Parenting is hard.

The old saying is true. Any one can have a kid, but it takes someone really out-of-their-mind crazy to buckle down and parent that thing. Or something along those lines...

The reality is there are some things no one can prepare you for. Like the competition that is motherhood. How every one around you will instantly have an enlightening suggestion on how to stop the crying, get them to sleep through the night, and survive their first cold. There are hundreds of books and thousands of articles, most of which contradict and negate the others. And they are all "right". And that's just for the first year...

The truth is there is no handbook for parenting. No "one-size-fits-all" method. It's just straight up hard.

2) You will cry. Probably a lot and probably often.

There are going to be times that you collapse into bed at night (or at 3am as the case may be) and congratulate yourself on being the worst mom in the history of ever.

You will think of all the ways you should have done it differently and how you could have done better and the next day you will suggest to your husband that you go ahead and open a savings account to pay for your child's inevitable need for counseling.

You just aren't going to be perfect and sometimes you will run to the bathroom, close the door, and cry.

3) You may want to return your child. Possibly before even leaving the hospital.

When you have just finished your seventh green-poop filled diaper IN A ROW and you are covered in spit up and you can't remember if you took a shower yesterday or if that was three days ago, it's very possible that your mind will wander back to the good ole days when you slept until 8am because you could. You will be tempted to riminesce about those times you ran into the grocery store without having to unload 35lb carseat only to find that those Huggies actually AREN'T leak proof.

There will be times you "remember when" and it may unleash the floodgates as mentioned in point number two.

4)  You will be tired almost all the time and will forget everything. And you will forget everything.

Inevitably you will finally build up the courage to go to Wal-Mart after that last diaper adventure and get to the very back of the store when your baby will promptly start screaming at the top of his lungs. "That's ok," you'll think to yourself as you reach in the diaper bag (that is taking up the entire back of the shopping cart). "I have your paci... Riiiight here.... Shhhh... It's ok..... Mommy has your paci.... WHERE IS THAT FREAKIN' PACIFIER!?" And then you will glance up awkwardly as you realize the entire cold-foods section was privy to your most recent display of both exhaustion and forgetfulness.

5) Parenting will change your marriage.

It's all fun and games until your husband tries to sleep through his turn to feed the baby at 2:30am--for the third night in a row. Then it's on.

You will argue over who changed the last poop diaper and who in the world bought non-organic baby food! It sure wasn't me... Are you trying to kill our child?!

You will have times that you give him that "if-you-touch-me-I-will-show-you-seven-new-kinds-of-crazy" look because while he engaged in adult conversation all day, you washed six loads of laundry (how does this pint sized child get so dirty?!), ate leftover macaroni and cheese for lunch, changed 23 diapers, and become fluent in infantese. All on two and a half hours of sleep. The last thing you feel is "in-the-mood".

When you finally do get a child-free date, you will find yourselves talking about the baby you just high-five'd about leaving at Maw-Maw's and Paw-Paw's.

Now, before you hate me and deem me the worst friend ever for sharing these truths, let me share a few corresponding things I've learned in my the-days-are-long-but-these-four-years-have-flown-by parenting adventures.

1) You are not the first person to do this.

Generations of moms have produced children that have turned into thriving adults. After all, the human race is still here.

So while er'body and their mama is trying to tell you how it's done, follow your instinct. Pray about it. Glean advice from people you trust. Then throw out what doesn't work for your family, along with the guilt you're tempted to hold onto.

And remember that babies all around the world survive just fine without that fancy teething giraffe and baby wipe warmers.

2) Crying doesn't mean your weak. Most likely it means you are trying your best.

Those pictures you see on Facebook from those super moms who kids are always in new clothes and sporting a big smile eating made from scratch muffins? That's their highlight reel. They may have just come out of the bathroom from their hourly cryfest because she just changed her spit-up covered shirt for the third time today after she burned the first batch of sugary delights.  

No one posts pictures of that.

So let yourself cry. But also pick yourself up. You can do this and it is worth it. Some days will be easier and  there will always be bright moments sprinkled in. That's called God's grace. Bask in it.

3) There are no returns or exchanges on these little humans. I asked.

Turns out that's ok, because God picked you to be this one's mom. That doesn't mean it'll be easy (re: point number one) or that you will know what the heck you're doing at any given moment. It just means that He's going to equip you and grow you and change you and hold you and listen to you and understand every emotion as you walk this road. And He's gonna use you to have a huge impact on this little life.

So go ahead and own this little one. Cover him with prayer. Ask God for wisdom. Get in the floor and play. Laugh at your mistakes. Give yourself grace. Allow yourself to be human.

4) Try to sleep when the baby sleeps.

But also realize you're still going to wake up tired whether you sleep for 30 minutes or 30 hours (don't count on that last one).

It's just part of this parenting thing.

And you can try to pack that diaper bag in advance but you will inevitably forget something as basic as diapers from time to time. Laugh about it. And be thankful that you have 23 stores that sell diapers within a 3 miles radius of wherever you are.

5) I'm gonna park here for a minute.

Never forget that you got into this situation together and you are both new at this thing. Lean into one another, don't push against each other.

Don't push against each other.

Show grace. Laugh OFTEN. Forgive. Let go. And enjoy this thing that is the hardest job on the planet.

You can't do it alone. You're gonna need God and a lot of Him. And you're gonna need each other.

Go on dates. Talk things out. Find things to talk about besides this new addition.

And let him kiss you, even when you don't wanna. It's important for him. It's important for you. It's important for your child.

It's true when they say it's worth it. There will be a lot of really great times. So don't let these things I'm telling you discourage you, but rather motivate you to do this thing well.

By God's grace you are going to be a great mom. And when you aren't, there is more grace.

I wrote this for my sister-in-law who is expecting her first baby in October. I asked her if I could share it because honestly these are all things I wish someone had said to me before I had our first. Or maybe they did and I didn't listen. Either way, I hope this is an encouragement to new mamas out there. And if you are a seasoned mom, maybe you can shout "amen!" and give other tips in the comments section.

Broken Teeth and Broken Lives: If We Weren't "Just" Moms

We read the document line by line, our plea to the judge to make this brown-eyed girl our own.  Our lawyer had drawn it up for us, ensuring that while this would be a lengthy process, it really was not all that complicated.

“Richard Whittemore, married, pilot, resident at….”

So far so good.

“Ashley Whittemore, married, just a mom, resident at…”

I paused.

“Just?” I said. “Just a mom?”

It was clear that the irony of the situation was lost on our lawyer. But because my third language is not yet apt to communicate emotions appropriately, I chose to let it go.

But later I began to think through the implication of that one little word “just”, tossed in there, seemingly out of habit. After all, this is not normal legal lingo. He didn’t say that Richard is “just a pilot” or that we were “just married” or “just residents”.

He was, knowingly or otherwise, communicating a common perception that this whole thing about raising up little humans is “just” something to be done.

Something we take care of in our spare time.

I decided to flip the situation around so maybe we can get a better idea. Maybe we can see what happens when someone is not “just” a mom.

I can do this because I am living it.

Because our adopted daughter’s birth mom JUST didn’t brush her daughter’s teeth, my daughter now has an ongoing gum infection. Several of her adult teeth are now mere fragments and she will have to have crowns to replace them. We have to do a mouth treatment several times a day, just to try to keep the infection at bay.

Because she JUST didn’t watch out for her daughter, but left her in the streets as a vulnerable little girl, my daughter now has scars from experiences that no adult should endure, much less a child. These will affect her for years to come and we will constantly deal with the psychological effects.

Because she JUST didn’t feed her child, but left her to eat candy and Cheetos all day, my daughter looks like she has highlights in her hair, but it’s the effects of malnutrition. For the first two weeks she lived with us, she asked us every single day if she would get to eat.  She didn’t know the word for dinner. Before bed she would ask if she could eat again tomorrow.  We had to teach her to chew thoroughly, take reasonable sized bites, eat slowly, enjoy the food because she devoured every meal as if it were her last.

Because she JUST didn’t bathe her daughter, my daughter had a massive scalp infection that required two medications and a special shampoo for two weeks to heal the infection and kill the unbelievable amount of lice that had taken up residence in her hair.

Because she JUST didn’t care about the educational needs of her daughter, my daughter now struggles to learn, period. She is almost seven years old and doesn’t know her basic shapes, doesn’t know the difference between a number and a letter, has difficulty remembering anything, and struggles to understand basic concepts.

Because she JUST didn’t teach her daughter to speak her emotions and work through them in a healthy way, my daughter literally has the capability to shut off completely. Her blank stare will pierce right through you. It takes hours upon hours to break down the walls that she has built up.

Because she JUST never said “I love you” to her daughter, my daughter looked at me with surprise the first time I said it to her and said, “You love me?”

And the list goes on.

So if being “just a mom” means I brush my kids’ teeth, keep them away from people and situations that will physically and/or emotionally harm them, feed them nutritious meals, give them baths, teach them, guide them, love them—well, then that’s what I’ll be.

Because I’ve seen what happens when someone isn’t “just” a mom. I see it every single day in my oldest daughter. I see it on this street and in this town while twelve year old little girls walk around pregnant, young boys steal and lie. And worse.

And I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, if Mariclene’s mom had had someone that was “just” a mom to her, things could look a whole lot different.

This mom business is hard. It is exhausting and draining. There are nights that I collapse in bed and feel overwhelmed with the job that I have been entrusted with to raise these little people into adults that fear the Lord. It requires great sacrifice.

Whether you have one or twelve, this is a hefty load we “just moms” carry. So lets be gracious to one another.  Let’s carry on another’s burdens. Let's encourage and build up. Let’s teach our children to value this mom gig so that the next generation will have a greater understanding of the importance.

But most of all, let’s rely on the God’s grace and do this “just mom” job well.

It’s just so important.

{Side note: I wrote this from a mom’s perspective because I am one and the thought was sparked by the “just a mom” comment. I want to say that the father’s role is EQUALLY as important in a child’s life. God created the roles of both Father and Mother and while they vary in many ways in how they play out day to day, neither is more important than the other and this is a value that should be taught to our children. Much of society’s issues also stem from the lack of godly fathers and role models.}

Proud, humbled Daddy.

I learned about that from a not-even-2-year-old!

Last night, I had the opportunity to spend the evening with Elliott. Ashley went to spend some time with her mom since we have been traveling so much and it was up to Popi to take care of the compact ball of energy that is my son. I love spending time with him and now that he is getting older he talks and communicates a lot more than when he was a baby. I forget sometimes that he isn’t even 2 yet because he really is like dealing with a little person now, not a baby.

Anyway, we decided to play at the house a little bit, then we went to the Army/Navy store to get a couple things. In true Elliott fashion, he played with his wooden airplane (it’s a tailwheel too so I’m proudJ) in the back seat until we got there. Once we were checking everything out he began to start up his own conversation with the man behind the counter, the man says “Hey, little buddy!, How are you?” to which my son replies,” Good, buddy – what doin’” I don’t think the salesman was expecting that.

Elliott proceeded to hand my card over and then talk about the colors of the rope and how many we had bought. As we are walking out he turns around and says, “ Bye, buddy”.

I smile and think about how personal he is with others.

Then I decide to take him to dinner. So after talking about all the options, he decided that “buh-gers” or burgers, is what he wants…..I decided to take him to Krystals because he had never been. As we walk in the first thing I notice is that there is a lady in line, with all respect, she is not the kind of person that we just flock to to try and be friends with. I don’t know her situation but she looked (and smelled) homeless, the few teeth she had were rotten and stained from cigarettes and she was about 300 lbs overweight.  (Just so everyone understands, I am not being critical or judgmental here, this is the reality). So as Elliott proceeds to the small chair that spins and decides that he is going to try each one out; I stand in line and think about what we are going to eat.

The lady in front turns around and tells me that my son is adorable, I smile and thank her and carry on a couple-sentence conversation. Then Elliott comes up and wants to “show me” his new jungle gym ( the small, round, spinning seats). She again comments on how smart he is because I was talking to him in Spanish. I ordered and sit down with him to wait on our food. She also sits down just a few seats away from me and begins to talk a little with Elliott and me. She asks about how he knows Spanish and Portuguese, talks about her own son starting school and continually mentions Elliott’s awareness and intelligence. I had the opportunity to tell her about what God was doing with us and why we were missionaries and what he had called us to do. We had a great conversation and she was a very sweet lady. Elliott also spoke with her and hammed it up a little.

After her food was ready, she told Elliott bye, as she came over to give him a five, he proceeded to fall out of his chair trying to hug her. So I helped him out and he hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. You could tell that she really was surprised and happy that he did that.

And I was convicted.

My 20 month old son had just taught me a valuable lesson – again. He has the ability to love like Christ and I don’t even think about it. The truth is, if it weren’t for him, I would not have even spoken to her. Not out of spite or judgment but just because there would have been no “need”. Yet my son saw her as a “friend” just like anybody else that smiles and waves at him. He knew that he cared enough about her to show affection and go as far as a hug and kiss.

I had the opportunity to share about Christ because my son was willing to love someone that world (and many “christians”) would mock, ridicule, judge, and stay away from. And the most amazing thing- it was totally natural for him. He didn’t have to fake it and I didn’t force him, he is a child. He has not yet had the feelings of pride or superiority or judgment. He showed love because that’s what he was shown.

He didn’t feel sorry for her, he didn’t pity her. He showed her love and affection and genuine interest (as much as a 20 month old can)

I want to be more like my son. I’ll be honest, the first thing I felt for her was pity, not love. I was sorry for her that she was the way she was, but I didn’t seek to be her friend.

Jesus disciples were his friends, not just his ministry. He loved them, he didn’t pity their nature and inferiority, he loved them, chose them and redeemed them.

I can’t wait to see what my son teaches me in the future.  I pray that he always stays as loving and accepting as he is now. I can honestly say that I was able to glorify God by sharing his plan, works and grace in our life because MY son, a toddler, was willing to love.

I wonder how many more people would feel the love of Christ and be brought to a redeeming knowledge of Him if we Christians acted a little more like not-even-2-year-olds ;).

That Was Kinda Nice

The other day, I was reading this really great (random) book that I found called How Do You Tuck In a Superhero? The author, Rachel Balducci, is the mom of 5 boys (and one girl now) and tells story after story of life with boys.

When I was done with the book (which I finished in just 2 days), I found myself teary-eyed and praying.

That's when it happened. I asked God for something in faith and I realized that I just don't do that very often. Usually, my prayers are pitiful little cries to "please do this" or "please don't do that". But this time was different.

This time, I straight up asked God to give me something. And it felt good to do it. That's when it hit me: that's how God wants us to pray. He wants us to trust Him and love Him enough to shoot straight with Him. And what's even more, He wants us to ask Him for the desires of our heart because if we're seeking Him, those desires will be from Him and it will please Him to answer them. (Got that?)

So I asked God for this: to give me the joy and the privilege to raise our family in the Jung|e. Where it's "dangerous" and "unpredictable". Where it's hot and tiring and lonely at times. Where we'll be learning new languages our home will be open to whomever, whenever. Where we'll no doubt have sickness and injuries. But where our joy will be full and our lives will be spent healing and teaching and serving.

And suddenly that's all I wanted and I found myself in tears asking God to find me worthy of such a great calling as to raise Elliott and whatever other children He may bless us with in the Jung|e so that they could grow up to see that we serve a BIG God who loves the |ndians just as much as us.

I sing a song with Elliott, you probably know it, called "He's Got the Whole World In His Hands".

I adapt the verses to say different things and one is: He's Got the Indians in the Jungle in His Hands.

My earnest prayer is that God will equip Richard and myself with the humility and servant hearts that are necessary to raise our children to know that we are all equal in God's eyes.... and that's a beautiful thing.
.

Don't Pray for Health or Wealth

I used to pray for Elliott like this:

"God, please protect Elliott. Keep him happy, healthy, and strong. Keep him safe and I pray that he will one day meet a beautiful, godly lady and that you'll bless him with a family and that they will serve you and live to be 100 years old." (Yes, I really did pray that he would live that long.)

I thought God would respond to that prayer a little something like this:

"Of course I will protect your precious baby boy. Of course I will keep him happy, healthy, and strong. Of course I will keep him safe and bless him with a wife and children and he will live a full and long life. I'll do that just for you, Ashley, my sweet child."

But, quite frankly, that's not what He said. Like, at all.

Since the day Elliott was born, I began a journey that has involved my whole being: mind, body, spirit, and soul (can I get a witness, fellow parents?). It's been tiring, challenging, encouraging, exhausting, fun, exciting, energizing, refreshing, exhausting, transforming, stretching... did I mention exhausting?

I think that more than anything, though, being a parent has begun a spiritual transformation in me that I never anticipated. Maybe that's been the main source of the feeling of exhaustion that I've faced time and time again.

Sure, the late nights and long hours in the beginning wear you down when you're up every hour, on the hour to those cries of hunger or thirst or that cry that you can't seem to figure out. Of course it pushes you to your physical limits when your husband, child, and yourself are sick and it's 3am on a house boat in the Amazon Jungle (ok, maybe that one's a little specific....) Who wouldn't be worn out after working all day then chasing a one year old all evening trying to get dinner ready and keep the house at least functional?

Physically, I get tired.

But it's those spiritual lessons, the ones that I seem to be in need of learning over and over again... those are what really take a toll. If I'm honest, though, I'll admit that it's not really the lesson that tires me. God's Truths don't exhaust me. His "yoke is easy and [His] burden is light." (Matthew 11.30) No, the part that wears me down is my pride, my wholehearted resistance at times to what His Spirit is saying to me. Things that, in my ignorance, I don't want to hear.

When I was praying for Elliott like I said in the above prayer, I longed to hear a response like the one I mentioned. I wanted so badly for God to tell me--promise me--that He would protect my child from hurt or harm. That He would keep him safe and make him happy.

So when His response instead was, "Pray according to My will, not your own." I was frustrated. This was my child that God had entrusted to me so I needed to know he would be safe.

Still God's reply each time I prayed that way was, "Pray according to My will, not your own."

I didn't understand. Shouldn't it be His will, too, to protect my baby? Shouldn't He want that too?

My mind goes back to the Gospels where Luke describes the scene in chapter 22 when Jesus is praying to His Father shortly before He was to be taken and crucified.

39. Jesus went out as usual to the Mount of Olives, and his disciples followed him. 40. On reaching the place, he said to them, “Pray that you will not fall into temptation.” 41. He withdrew about a stone’s throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, 42. “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me;”

But He doesn't stop there. He continues:

"Yet not my will, but yours be done.”

Matthew gives us another insight in chapter 26. Jesus didn't ask God once, but twice:

42. Again, for the second time, he went away and prayed, “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.”

So there it is. Jesus is about to face the most grueling death one can imagine. He was going to feel real pain--real, tormenting pain. Yet His prayer was, "Yet not my will, but yours be done." 

God spoke to me very clearly on this one evening as I rocked Elliott to sleep. It was almost as if He was looking at Elliott with me when I felt His Spirit say to me once again, "Pray according to My will, not your own."

Again, I didn't want to hear that.

Why was I so resistant?

Because I know what my will is. I know that if it were up to me, Elliott would never hurt, never cry, never be in pain... and neither would I. But I don't know what God has. I don't know God's plan for his life.

For a long time, I still refused to pray that way. I didn't want to let go because I was afraid that as soon as I did, something bad would happen. Something out of my control.

Then I took another look at the example that Christ gives us when He was praying to His Father. He didn't pray, thanking God for the pain He was about to suffer. He didn't pray that God would carry through with the plan. He prayed that God would take it away. But the key is, he went on to say, "Yet not my will, but yours be done."

It hit me. It's OK to pray that God protect my child and keep Him healthy... as long I'm willing to accept that He may not do that. And that is faith. That is faith because I'm trusting in the fact that God is good and God is sovereign. That indeed He does have a plan for Elliott's life and it's a good one. It may not look like what I have in mind, but if it were up to me, Jesus wouldn't have had to die on the cross. To my human mind, that's not fair.

But to God, it was good.

God sees the big picture. He sees a humanity that is utterly lost and broken. A people that need a Savior and redemption. A people that are empty and fallen. And He loved us so much that He didn't take that cup from Jesus but followed through so that you and I could know Him and the power of His resurrection.

And that is good.

So now, I pray differently. I don't pray for health and wealth for Elliott. My prayer goes a little something like this:

"God, thank you for this beautiful boy that you have entrusted to me. Thank you for loving Elliott enough to send your Son to die so that he has hope. Please use this little life to glorify You. Whatever that looks like, whatever that may be, I want his life to glorify You. I know that you have a plan for his life and that it's a good one. It may not be what I would choose, but it's a good one that will honor You. I want him to be healthy and strong and happy. Yet not my will, but Yours be done."

If I'm honest, I don't pray this every day. Some days I can't because I don't really mean it. I'm still holding on to my pride, thinking that I know what's best for him.

But each time God ever so gently reminds me of the beautiful story of a Savior who wanted the will of His Father more than His very life and the redemption that followed when He surrendered knowing that God's will was the best.

Q & A’s for Mission-Minded Families: MOTHERHOOD

This is a post I found on a blog I read: Passionate Homemaking

I normally don't post things like this because I realize it's not relevant to all of our readers, but as a mom this was encouraging to me. So, if you're a mom, it may be encouraging to you. Seems logical, right?

Here's the link: Q & A’s for Mission-Minded Families: MOTHERHOOD

I don't agree with everything she says in regards to motherhood (personal preference, really) but overall I think there are some great points!

Confessions of a Not-So-Super-Mom: Part Dos

Kind person: Here you go, Ashley. Elliott's paci fell on the floor.
Me: Oh, thank you. *takes paci, checks for hair and/or visible dirt, shrugs, gives it to Elliott* It'll build his immune system.
Kind person: *look of shock*

That's a good way to summarize my first year of parenting. 

As I reflect over the past year I'm reminded of something: I'm not a super mom.

You know what I'm talking about. Those moms who have it all together with their paci-wipes and phenomenal diaper changing skills [cloth only please] that put the seasoned daycare worker to shame and schedules that are precise down to the minute. The ones who breastfeed for at least the first year if not the second [more power to them, by the way!] and know all the dos and don'ts of parenting because they read every book and article they could find before baby arrived [and they'll be happy to share some advice if you want... or even if you don't]. They read at least five books a night to their child and know exactly which toys are appropriate for their age to stimulate their ever-growing brain. They don't miss a routine visit to the pediatrician and could recite the vaccine schedule to you if you'd like to jot it down. 

I'm not that mom.

I'm the one who can't for the life of me remember to pack everything I need. More than once [ok, MANY times] I've had to stop at the closest Wal-Mart or CVS to get the most basic of supplies that my diaper bag has lacked. Bottles, diapers, wipes... you know name it, I've forgotten it. So you can bet there wasn't a paci wipe within reach.

I looked like [and felt like] a deer in the headlights at least the first three months as I fumbled about changing diapers, sometimes 3 or 4 within a 5 minute span, getting sprayed in the face and mixing bottles [yes, formula] and trying to remember if I had scheduled that appointment....

I work full time so after six weeks of trying to figure out what in the world I was supposed to do with this crying, pooping, sleep-all-day-up-all-night little bundle of goodness, I was back at the workplace trying to now figure out how to function on no sleep and be decent employee and maintain my wife and motherly duties.

The items on my plate had multiplied but for some reason the plate itself was the same size.

I could have probably filled a small swimming pool with the tears that I cried those first few months. I just knew that this kid was going to be warped for life. How could he not be? After all, some nights I was so exhausted I didn't give him a bath or *gasp* read one book, much less five. I quit breastfeeding after one month and had to experiment to get the right formula for his little tummy.

To top it all off, fast forward to 5.5 months and we're traveling internationally with him to the Jung|e. Before he reached one he had been to four countries outside the US, all of which were third world. He's been passed around Indian villages and ridden backseat in our laps in a taxi more times than I can count. He's played in mud and eaten leaves and torn butterflies in half. He's a very ambitious boy and has the bumps and bruises to prove it.

*sigh*

I think I'm the most unconventional mom I know. The first kid is just trial and error anyway, right??

I used to feel guilty that I didn't follow the rules. Should I really let him cry it out? Is it too early to discipline? I don't think they're supposed to be exposed to sweets until they're at least one....  Is it ok for him to be in this walker? Is it safe to travel overseas? What about vaccinations? Is soy or milk based formula better? Is this toy too advanced or not advanced enough? Am I stimulating his mind enough? I don't think he can watch TV yet... Is it time to take the paci away? Will his teeth be ruined because we gave him a paci in the first place??

The choices are endless when it comes to how to parent your child and EVERYONE has an opinion [and their's is the right one of course]. Fortunately, the Bible has more than a little to say about it and one verse that I've claimed more than anything in this past year is James 1.5:

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.

I've found myself everyday saying, "Hey, God. This is me coming to you lacking a lot of wisdom. Can I make a withdrawal from your wisdom bank, please?"

And the best part is, every time I've asked, He's come through.

He's good like that.

So, while I may not be a super mom and may not do things like they're "supposed to be done" all the time, I have a resource that far exceeds today's parenting gurus. I have a God that has given me wisdom and a healthy baby boy to prove that no matter what the "professionals" may say, my God knows best.

My plan for parenting? I'll continue teaching him, loving him, picking him up when he [once again] loses his battle with gravity, and most of all raise him to know a personal God who loves Him so much He gave His only Son.

Seems to be working so far....

Elliott with the locals at 5.5 months.

Elliott playing in the Jung|e mud at 9 months.

 My happy, healthy boy at almost one year! Praise God!