My Little Man

Considering my last post was 6 months ago, I could write about so many things.  Otha and I celebrated our 5 year anniversary, Malia started walking (thank you, sweet Jesus), and we filled our summer with memorable trips.  However, I just want to write about Asher.  

Oh, Asher.  How you drive me crazy, yet my heart explodes with love for you. Parenting is a strange phenomenon, is it not?  

Last month, Asher turned four years old.  This birthday seemed different from previous years.  Not only did he officially graduate from toddlerhood, but he helped plan his 4th birthday party (unlike last year where he did not know birthday parties were a thing... parenting success).  We threw a Halloween/costume party, causing most children to sweat profusely under extra layers in July.  I am happy to say that no one died of heat stroke.  

I am so happy Otha is a genius and came up with the Halloween/costume theme.  It captured so much of how Asher loves to spend his time:  dressing up and telling spooky stories... and acting like he has eating buckets of Halloween candy, but really it's just his temperament.  

Every single day he dresses up in a costume.  And every single day I have to figure out how to parent his wild, passionate, persistent spirit.  A few weeks ago, he wanted to dress up like an astronaut.  Let me explain to you what his astronaut costume consists of:  putting on every single costume item he owns, layer upon layer, with a plastic drum over his head as a helmet.  Considering it was over 100 degrees outside, I had to turn down his astronaut dream that day.  He cried.  I tried to explain that it's too hot outside.  He threw a fit.  I tried reasoning again, offering him other costume alternatives.  His fit grew colossal.  I then told him he would die.  He could die in the heat with 10 layers on outside... in August... in Texas. "Asher, it's not safe."  "BUT I WANT TO BE AN ASTRONAUT!"  "Asher, you will die."  "I DON'T CARE!!!!" "Asher, you could LITERALLY DIE!!" Tears upon tears.  Twenty minutes later he settled on being a pirate.  This type of thing every day.  All day.  

His imagination is beautiful and more than I could have asked for.  I can hand him a pile of mush and he can turn it into something magical in his mind.  We have minimal outside toys and somehow he finds adventure in our backyard using his costumes, rocks, dirt, and sticks.  He also enjoys cutting roly polys in half with his saw.  Poor little things.  

Something I try to savor, but takes so much effort, is his need for us to join him in his imaginary world.  Well, for us to join him in anything he does.  If he goes to the bathroom, he wants someone to go with him.  The horror it would be if he had to grab something from his bedroom without a chaperone.  If I walk out of a room he is playing in he asks "WHERE ARE YOU GOING??" soon followed by "ARE YOU COMING BACK TO THIS ROOM?".  If I am not coming back to that room immediately, I then have a little Asher shadow following me wherever I am going.  It's not uncommon for me to lock him out of the bathroom so I can pee in peace for 30 seconds.  And you better believe that entire 30 seconds Asher is pounding on the door saying, "Mommy!  It's me!! Let me in!!"  His level of extroversion is impressive.  I am an extrovert, yet Asher has taken it to a whole new level.  When he does something, it's 100%.  I am sure this will come in handy some day.  But as a four year old, it makes me want to beat my head against the wall sometimes.  

In one week, this crazy, fun boy is going to start Pre-K.  He thinks it's the coolest thing ever to go to school "just like Daddy".  When I ask him what he is most excited about, he talks about playing on the playground and in the classroom with the other kids.  He is pumped.  Meanwhile, I am crying.  I think he will thrive in a classroom setting and enjoy the experience.  But he is my first baby.  I am already freaking out about him fitting in, listening to the teacher, sitting by himself at lunch, peeing his pants from getting so distracted, etc.  I want to protect him from everything.  This will be more of a growing process for me than it will be for him.  And as much as he drives me nuts, he is my buddy and makes me laugh and smile every single day.  Now I am just rambling.  Point being- I am learning to let him grow up... and it's challenging.  He, on the other-hand, already talks with excitement about turning 18 so he can move away and get a dog.

This boy has captured my heart and stretched me in countless ways.  Poor guy is our guinea pig for Otha and I's parenting methods and yet he so easily forgives us.  I can lose my patience with him, make terrible parenting choices, and one minute later he asks if I want to play legos with him.  I am ever so thankful for his grace.  And I will need it every single day as I learn how to guide him in to adulthood.  

Asher Isaiah Graham, we are so thankful the Lord surprised us with you!  May we continue learning how to love you well the rest of your days.  

  

New Community

Every season comes to an end.

Although people like to encourage me during difficult seasons by reminding me that it won't last forever, that every season comes to an end, I usually say it to myself in the easier seasons of life.  Soak up the blissful moments, but also know growing pains are to come.

To spare everyone details, Monday morning we called 911 due to Malia's health.  She has been an inpatient at Cook Children's Hospital ever since.  Despite all of her previous known health issues, this hospital stay is due to her endocrine system, which is completely new territory for our family.  I don't really like giving health updates because every day there are different guesses, answers, game plans from her medical team.  It feels exhausting to take in the information and then also relay it to others.

Yes, her health is terrifying.  But along with that it has been scary to let new people into our journey with Malia.  In the past, we had a community and friends who we had done life with for a long time before Malia was even placed in our home.  I felt safe in Houston knowing that we had a solid support system.  We have only lived in Fort Worth for 7 months, which does not feel long enough to open up this part of our lives to new friends.

The word that comes to mind is vulnerability.  I feel completely vulnerable needing help, especially the help that we needed this past week.  It's not like I have been pouring into these people for years and have held their hands through tough times.  I still feel like the new girl in the neighborhood and the new girl in our church and the new girl in a circle of friends.  To be new and plead for help is humbling.  To say "I have not given anything to you in the past, yet I need so much from you in this moment" challenges me on countless levels.

I told Otha Monday evening that it feels so awkward to even tell new friends what is happening in our life.  Do I text the people I partially know, but want to know more to inform them Malia had to be taken in an ambulance?  Or do I wait until the next time I naturally see them and mention that our life got crazy, but now everything is back to normal?  But this is a HUGE part of my life.  I have a daughter with special needs, who spends long periods of time living in hospitals, who has 6 therapies a week plus numerous other medical appointments, who may be the same age as your kid but functions a year behind.  As much as I want to appear to be an easy person to really do life with, I come with a lot of responsibility.  I feel like I need to have people sign waivers before they decide to be my friend on a deeper level- a disclaimer explaining that when Malia gets sick, our whole life gets crazy and my friends help hold us together.

This past week I found myself really without a choice.  Both Asher and I had a stomach bug, so I could not be with Malia at the hospital and my parents could not watch Asher because he was contagious and Otha still needed to go to work.  And you know what happened?  I had to take down all of my pride and ask for help.  And people just kept blessing us.  Over and over.  People brought over bags and bags of food and supplies for me and Asher, my mom spent several days at the hospital with Malia so that Otha could go to work, neighbors dropped off dinners, friends brought over activities to keep Asher busy while I was really sick.  And they just won't stop.  Within hours of creating a list of things we will need next week, all the slots were filled with names who are willing to sacrifice their time to make our life easier.  I cannot count the number of times I have wept with thankfulness and humility this week.  I am completely overwhelmed by how gracious the Lord has been in providing people who are taking care of us.

So thank you to everyone that we have pulled into this messy life of ours- I am truly blown away by your generosity, kindness, and eagerness to help.  And don't worry, this crazy season of our life will come to an end.