Letting go

     So, I'm a bit of a control freak.  I know this is difficult to believe, but it's true.  I like things to be clean and in order.  Having four kids has completely disrupted the order of my home.  Chaos is king and flexibility is key. 
     Last weekend, I got up early and cleaned my kitchen.  By "cleaned" I mean that I scrubbed the floors, the sinks, and the counters.  The dishwasher was emptied and the coffee was brewing.  Aah....a quiet moment all to myself in a clean and orderly room.  I hadn't even poured myself the first cuppa when the oldest two came bounding into to my space wanting to make breakfast.  I offered cereal...they didn't want it.  I offered yogurt and fruit....they didn't want it.  Whatever I offered....they didn't want it.  They wanted to make their own breakfast.  Of course they did not want to make the same thing.  The oldest wanted peanut butter french toast (Darn that Rachael Ray kids cookbook!) and my girl wanted to waffles.  So, what did I do?  I let them.  The condition was that the kitchen had to be restored to its original condition when they were done (yeah right). 
   Well, the kitchen has yet to fully recover, but the kids practiced following a recipe, enjoying the fruits of their labor, and cleaning up (kind of ) after themselves.  As for me and my coffee....I think I had to warm it up at least twice before drinking it down.  But, I view this as an investment in my future.  One day they will do this without supervision.  I'll expect to be served french toast, waffles, and most importantly....my fresh cup of coffee. 

Eleven

     Eleven years ago today, at 10:08 pm, my oldest son was born.  Eleven.  How did that happen so quickly.  I vividly remember the days that Bob the Builder lived at our house.  He was an honorary member of the family and I was sick of him.  Had I known how quickly my boy's affections would shift I would have enjoyed having Bob around a little bit more. 
     Isaac.  We had his name picked out before we were even engaged.  I remember a date where Steve and I were walking around a park.  For some reason I remember lots and lots of bats swarming (do bats swarm?) through the trees.  That night we talked about wanting kids and with that conversation took another step closer to marriage.  We discussed names that night and the name "Isaac" came up as one we both liked.  While I don't completely understand the story of Sarah, Abraham, and Isaac (how do you understand God asking you to sacrifice your son??) I do love the meaning of the name: laughter.  Sarah laughed when she learned that she was pregnant at her advanced age.  I laughed when I learned that the baby I was carrying was a boy.  Laughter and happiness are intertwined and the happiness I felt at carrying this little man was palpable.   As soon as him "manhood" was confirmed via ultrasound, we named him.  We talked to him by name, the family "knew" him by name, and baby showers were all held for Isaac. 
     Gerald.  This is his middle name.  It is Grandpa Jerry's first name.  Grandpa died right before Steve and I were officially engaged, but he knew we were going to get married.  He welcomed me into the  Ruff family with open arms and I will forever love him for that.  Isaac's middle name is a gift to Isaac and gift to Grandpa.  They will meet someday. This I know.  Until then, Isaac carries a little bit of this amazing man with him wherever he goes. 
     Bob the Builder has been replaced by Zelda and Manga.  Though I'm not fans of those either, I know they are temporary visitors and will be replaced by other interests as he grows.  I embrace them as a part of my boy's life.  I'm flooded with memories of birthdays past. The third birthday Bug Party, the sixth birthday Pirate Party, and last Sunday at Grand Slam.  I remember pushing this boy out of me, nursing him while singing lullabies, rubbing his head and soothing him while he cried.  The first day of kindergarten and the last day of elementary school earlier this month are all rolled into one.  Recently, when he broke his wrist and had surgery, I was reminded that though he is growing up - a "tween" he says - he still needs me.  I hope he always will.  I need him.  He lives up to his name.  He brings me happiness and laughter every day of his life. 

                 I love you, Isaac.  Happy 11th Birthday! 

Good-Bye Big Red...sniff sniff

    Today, after eight year, we replaced our mini-van.  Mind you, driving a mini-van is not my top choice.  I used to dream of driving a British racing green Mazda Miata with a tan leather interior.  Last week, however, the dream car changed.  I saw an adorable convertible Volkswagen Bug with brightly colored daisies all over it.  I was drooling.  Alas, with four children and carpooling duties, the dream car has once again been put on hold for practical reasons. 
     Though Big Red (our '96 Dodge Caravan) did not make my heart beat wildly, it was a good and faithful car.  It was harder to say good-bye to her than expected.  After all, 3/4 of our children came home from the hospital in this car.  We drove this car with three kids and my parents to Missouri for a family reunion.  It has taken us to the Jolly Fisherman Resort, to Chicago, Fargo, Omaha, Oklahoma City, and LaCrosse.  Kids have been driven to school,birthday parties, karate, soccer, gymnastics, and dance in this car.  When three of the kids broke bones, Big Red was there to get them to the doctor.  When two of these breaks resulted in surgery, our trusty van drove us to the hospital and home again. 
     There were the two times, both this last year, that Big Red was violated.  This fall someone opened her up and stole a car seat.  We were thankful she wasn't damaged.  Then, a few weeks later she was injured.  While the family enjoyed the The MN Institute of Art, someone smashed one of her windows - just because.  We lovingly had her patched back up.  And she loved us right back by going and going and going....
   Today, the things I was growing to hate about this car became endearing quirks.  The cassette player with the squeaky speakers, the rear window that would not open, the broken air conditioning, the cracked bumper and rusty doors, weren't really that bad, were they?  The engine was still running strong and had many more miles to go.  However, Big Red's oil changes and maintenance checks had made it clear that her time was running out. 
     So, today we said good-bye to her.  We entrusted her to the Honda Dealership in hopes that they will take good care of her.  We lined up behind her while the salesman took our picture.  And, while the kids piled into our new Odyssey, I patted her on the side, wished her well and silently thanked her for her years of faithful service. 
 

Grandparents

Sadly, I got very few pictures of my parents and the kids when they were here last month.  There are, however, many wonderful memories that will be engraved in my memory - and that of the kids.

1.  Abuelita playing "fofi fofi."  This is a game my mom made up when the kids were babies.  No, that's not true.  She did this to my brother, my sister and me.  She holds up little baby feet and sniffs them and then says, " Mmmm Hmmm, fofi fofi!"  She pretends the sweet little baby feet are stinky.  For some reason babies love this!  The problem comes in when those sweet little baby feet become real big kid stinky feet.  While C will always be my sweet baby.  He no longer has fresh lil tootsies.  So, Ita was not play acting when she reacted to those chubby little stinkers.  Yes, she still plays with the big kids, but only after they come out of the bath!

2.  The one picture I did manage to get was of Paw Paw brushing L's hair before school.  She loves her long hair.  She hates to brush it.  The fact that she let Paw Paw at it is a sign of her love for him.  The fact that he noticed her snarly tangly hair needed brushing is a sign that he loves her.  This picture makes my heart ache at the distance between my kids and their Beatty grandparents.


Thankfully, we live close to Munca - C has nicknamed Grandma Ruff, "Munca."  It has stuck and we are all starting to call her that now.  We had dinner at Munca's on Sunday.  C had on his MN Twins jammies and decided that he  needed to play ball with Munca.. Munca was sitting down drinking her coffee when C decided to "recruit" her.  He ran over to her and grabbed her shirt to pull her up.  He'd pitch to Munca - big wind up of the arm included.  She would bat the imaginary ball and he would run the bases, crossing home plate by jumping onto the couch.  He was giggling the entire time.  This whole thing was repeated several times.  Each time, C and Munca laughed even more.  And, darn it - I forgot the camera.  All I need to do, though, is close my eyes to see those two playing imaginary ball together. 


What a blessing grandparents are to their grandchildren.  What a blessing cameras can be to capture those memories.  But, if like me, you find yourself in the midst of a Kodak moment without your camera - just let the moment soak into you and  burn itself into your heart and your memory.  You will always find it there.  And, honestly, it's a lot easier to scrapbook those pictures than the ones taken with your camera!

The Story of My Caleb

My baby boy turned two about 45 minutes ago. I can't believe it. This baby whom I never dreamed I'd have, is here and he's two. He's one of the great loves of my life and he's two years old already. Time really is flying by and I am enjoying the ride.


So, let's go back in time to 1996. Steve and I got married in August of that year. We knew we wanted children. We talked about it quite a bit. He wanted at least four (he's the youngest of seven) and I wanted a maximum of three. I figured, it is my body doing the work so I get the final say. Three it will be!

We had our first in 1999 and the twins followed in 2002. As far as twin pregnancies and labors go, mine were fairly straight forward and uncomplicated. Don't let that fool you, though. I'm 5'4'' tall and I carried two babies to 36 weeks. I was partially bedrested for the last six weeks. This would have been heavenly - imagine watching movies and reading books all day - had I not had a two year old who needed me and whom I needed. Two year olds don't understand why mommy can't get up to play choo choos with you or give you horsie rides. Mommies have a hard time understanding, too.

I delivered my two little monkeys and delivering two babies one right after the other did all sorts of unpleasant things that I won't even get into. Follow that up with a raging bout of post-partum depression that I didn't share with anyone. You didn't hear about it much in those days. And, while I knew something was wrong, no one was going to take my babies away from me! All of this to say....I was done! No more babies coming from my body!

While I truly did not want to be pregnant again (remember, I run the "risk" of twins), I had this sense, this feeling, this weight that persistently veiled itself around me. It was the feeling that someone was missing. There was a little Beatty Ruff that had not yet arrived into our family. This person was an important thread in the tapestry that is our family. Without it, we were incomplete. So, the adoption discussions began. Steve had always known that I was interested in adoption. During 2006 he began to show interest as well. I was overjoyed. I "knew" that this was going to happen. God and the universe would send us our fourth child. She (because this way we'd have the girls' room and the boys' room) would hail from Latin America as a nod to my Panamanian roots. We researched adoption agencies. We picked one. We decided on Guatemala. We filled out paperwork. I was getting to know people on the boards and beginning to follow their adoption journeys, learning from them the joys and frustrations of of adoption. We went to a meeting. At this meeting they showed a video that featured a song by Rosie Thomas. I hadn't even known who Rosie Thomas was until a few months before that. A friend of mine from Seattle had sent me one of her cds, just because. This song was a sign that all was progressing as it should. I was elated. As we walked out of the agency, I was ready to start writing checks and to invite social workers into our home. However, it was not to be. To embark on a journey as important as this one, both parents need to be on board. Steve was not. His intuition told him that this was not our path. I cried for two days. I was mad at Steve. I was mad at God. How could God have imprinted this need for a fourth child onto my heart and then not followed through? Remember, I didn't want four children.

The time that followed was dark. I blamed Steve. I blamed God. I ignored the feeling, but it wouldn't go away. We got a dog. I expected it to fill this hole in my heart. I love my Pooh like crazy, but he's a dog. You can't fit a dog into a baby sized hole.

We had some other issues surface during this time. So, we sought counseling. This was the best investment in our marriage we have ever made. We were both humbled by what we learned and continue to carry those lessons with us. I also saw this therapist on my own. During this time, I also met a person who has some incredible spiritual gifts. She calls herself a psychic. I see her as my spiritual healer. The decision was made (and I hope I shared a sense of how difficult this decision was) to get pregnant again.

Now this next tidbit doesn't have anything to do with the story, really. It is more of a side note, but one that I find interesting. Having four children is not "normal" in our society. It is a lot of work and people just don't "do" that anymore. So, I was shocked and disappointed that when we announced our pregnancy, there were some negative comments. "I hope you are having your tubes tied after this." "Oh my God, are you crazy?" Don't get me wrong, almost all the comments were joyful and supportive, but not all of them. I don't care what pregnancy it is, or how many children as family has - you just don't say things like this - to your friends. This child is just as important as the first, or the second or the third.

Back to the story. I was determined that this pregnancy was not going to wreak havoc on my body like the second one did. I worked out, I saw my therapist and my spiritual healer. I talked to my dr. about depression and was prepared with meds as soon as the baby was born. If all my pregnancies had been this good, I might have had four (or more) children a whole lot sooner!

At the ultrasound we found out it was a boy and started thinking if names. I liked Henry. Steve liked Eli. We had loosely decided on Eli Henry. However....Steele is a family name on my side of the family. A name that I had always wanted to use. Also, years before I had a student named Caleb. He was the most delightful boy. I remember thinking when my student moved on to sixth grade that if I ever had another boy, I'd name him Caleb.

Now we are are at March 2008. I was at work waiting to pick up my class from their specialist time. I started talking to the baby and calling him, "Caleb." I completely surprised myself. We had not made an official decision about a name. And, Caleb, while on the short list, was not at the top. I shared this experience with Steve that night. He said that something similar had happened to him that day. He'd been thinking of the baby as Caleb that day, as well. So, it was a no brainer. The baby would be named, Caleb - Caleb Steele.

[Image] A week later I was at my Bible Study. The group was looking up something related to the reading for that day and I decided to look up Caleb. I knew Caleb was an Old Testament name. Our two other boys also have Old Testament names, this name choice worked well with the others. That was the extent of my knowledge. We chose the other two names because of their meaning. I felt I needed to know more about this name that had fallen into our laps. Caleb, it turns out, was a contemporary of Moses. While Moses did not make it to the Promised Land, Caleb did. You see, God permitted Caleb to enter this land because he was a man of great faith. I remember tears welling up in my eyes at this moment. My journey, while bumpy, was a journey of faith. God named my baby and in doing so reminded me to have faith - to continue having faith - because He is by our side and He is always faithful.

Now, as I look at my beautiful boy, I am struck by just how faithful God has been. Our tapestry is complete. We are all at the table. God showed me that my way is not always the way....that there is joy and peace in following His way. Do I remember this all the time? No. Do I practice this as much as I should? No. But, when I'm down and feeling like God has forgotten me and those whom I love, I look at Caleb and am reminded to have faith. What a beautiful gift. Thank you, God, for my boy. Happy Birthday little love bug! Mommy loves you.

Uff!

Two quick anecdotes from our "Ruff" life the past two days:

1.  Paw Paw to Sam: What city do the MN Twins play for? (Sam is a big fan!)
     Sam:  St. Paul and St. Louis Park!

2.  Not more than 10 minutes ago I was putting laundry away.  Caleb went into my closet.  I heard him pulling out some paint cans his dad had stored in there after painting the upstairs bathroom today.  I kept putting clothes into my dresser and the kids' various piles.  Then, I went to hang up my blouses and guess what I found?  Yup.  Caleb had opened one of the cans and had his hands in the paint.  There was paint on his pjs, his face and the carpet.  We got it all off of him.  He cried and pointed to the closet while saying, "yogurt!"  Now, does anyone know how to get it out of the carpet?

Latin dancing

One of the things that I love about my children's school is that they are exposed to so many different cultures, especially latin american cultures. Sadly, I have not done a very good job of keeping the Panamanian culture alive in our home. Luckily, though, the kids' school offers an extra-curricular folkloric dance program. It's a little (ok a lot)  more structured than our family dance parties! My oldest participated for several years. This year was the first for the twins. They had the opportunity to get all dressed up and dance a Peruvian polka, la pitita. They also dance with partners that were not each other! Though, it's not a panamanian dance, it's a step in the right direction! I hope you enjoy their dance!