Newborn Diapers No More!

A few weeks ago I used the last newborn diaper. I thought about how this would be the final newborn diaper to be used on one of my children. I could say that this is a bittersweet reality, but right now it just feels sad. I am sure that someday we will throw a party when there are officially no more diapers in our house or when none of the kids require car seats anymore. (You are all invited!) But for now, I just want to mourn the "lasts" as they come. 

As I settle in as a mother of 4, I feel more invited and willing than ever to savor every moment. I find myself laughing while Daphne cries because there may not be anything quite as precious as a newborn baby's cry. I cried many unexpected tears myself the moment we left the hospital. I was concerned for a split second that this could be the beginning of some postpartum yuckiness, but quickly knew that could not be it because I felt so incredibly grateful. I think it was a subconscious realization that this part of my life is over. I'll never again receive the pampering of a new mother at the hospital. Matt and I will never bring a new baby home for the first time. I'll never feel a baby kick inside of me and I'll never wake my husband up in the early hours of the morning and whisper, "it's time" and then rush to the hospital to make sure we don't have to do an emergency delivery in the car. 

I know someday I'll be thankful when my body is my own again... No more growing babies or feeding babies. (I have been pregnant or nursing for at least 3/4 of my married life!) It may be easier when they can all dress themselves and when Matt and I can have a date night without having to pay a babysitter. That season of life will surely be beautiful and good, but I don't want to miss the beauty of this season.  And it is so beautiful. Dirty diapers, toys covering the floor, and the theme song from "Sofia the First" stuck in my head.  Waking up with extra kids in our bed who crawled in while we slept, unaware. Little House on the Prairie marathons and battles at bedtime. Sometimes it seems like too much to balance.

But then the newborn diapers have all been used up and it has gone by too fast.  

Give Yourself Grace and Don't Read the Comments Section

“Give yourself grace and don’t read the comments section.”

Last night I was asked for advice by a sweet friend about to become a mom for the first time.  Those were the first thoughts to come to mind, pieces of advice I would do well to heed for myself.  (Does anyone out there actually have the self-control to stay away from the comments section?  Not me.  And it gets me worked up Every. Single. Time.)  As a working mom with 4 children, I am asked several times a week how I “do it.”  I generally respond by saying that I usually just feel like I’m barely getting by and that it is only possible because I have a wonderful husband.  While those are the two most true statements, here are some other things that I’m learning and trying to embrace because, Mamas, we are in this together!

• ·      Embrace the Village

I struggle with mommy guilt as much as the next person, but it’s getting better.   I don’t have to be and do all things for my children all the time.  In fact, they actually need other people pouring into their life.  My parents have the Elf on the Shelf covered so we don’t have one at our house.  (Thank the Lord.)  They get hearty home cooked meals at the babysitter’s. We have so many family and friends who love them, hug them, speak truth, and provide laughter and fun.  I can’t be there all the time and I can’t do everything.  And that is more than ok. 

• ·      All They Need is Love

Speaking of not being able to do everything… I’m terrible at playing.  We don’t go a lot of special places like the Zoo or Museums or Parades.  They don’t always get everything they want and I have to apologize a lot for my poor responses, but you can bet that my kiddos know that I love them.  And when I’m feeling like I’m not doing enough, that I’m not enough, I have to remind myself of this.  All they really need is love.

• ·      Fight the Urge to Compare

We all do this mom thing differently.  Don’t compare and don’t judge.  It just isn’t worth it.  I work and I have friends who homeschool and we all understand that is just how our lives work and neither is better than the other considering that we all love our kids.  (See above.)  It isn’t my mission in life to keep up on the latest car seat rules or opinions (Gasp!) My kids eat fresh vegetables and they eat Eggo waffles.  As much as I wish I could be that mom who only does organic, it’s just not gonna work for me right now. And again, that’s a-ok.

• ·      Keep It in Perspective

For most of my life, it has been extremely important for me to be on time.  Promptness is one of the four spiritual laws, right?  Yeah, right.  No.  I have spent so many mornings yelling at my kids to hurry up and barking orders and one day I realized  (or rather received a gentle reminder from God) that showing my kids patience and love is so much more important than being on time.  I am still so bad at this, but I’m thinking about it and I’m trying.  I will never be on time again, but I’m doing my best to love my kids well (and make sure that I have time for coffee!)

• ·      Screen Time may Increase Sanity (and Showers!)

What you say?  You can’t believe that all my kids are holding an electronic device at a restaurant?  Well, on this particular day this is the first time this week that my husband and I have had a chance to have a meaningful conversation.   Sometimes I need a nap.  So my kids watch cartoons.  Sometimes I need a shower.  So my 3 year old plays on my iPad.  They are still creative and well rounded little people. 

• ·      Make Time For You

I can’t be a good mama if I’m not taking care of myself.  It feels unbelievably selfish sometimes, but I know I need exercise, friendship, coffee, and well kept nails. 

• ·      Give Yourself Grace

I fail.  A lot.  I think I’ll just try to do a little better next time. And I’ll try to extend this same grace to the precious little ones entrusted to me. 

• ·      …And Do Not Read the Comments.  Seriously.

Sent to Stay

I've been crying a lot lately. Like a lot. There are pregnancy hormones. (Regular crazy town tears.)  There is the fact that Judah is starting Kindergarten. (Mommy tears.)  It is August, the most chaotic month of the year for those in Student Development in higher education. (Stress tears.) I spent ten days at the beach and leaving always brings me the same empty feeling I used to struggle with for days after returning from summer camp as a kid. (Boo boo.)  But mostly I've been crying a lot because my sister and her husband decided that they are moving with their four children to Wyoming. Today. (Ugly tears.) It may as well be on the other side of the world.  These are the tears that hit me unexpectedly at the most inopportune moments, like in the parking lot right before I go into work, just as I'm about to enter Starbucks to order my coffee, and the entire stretch from Lexington to Anderson on the way home from the beach.  In my head I know that everything is going to be fine, good. God has prepared a path for them and will provide in surprising and incredible ways.  But I still cry. Those kids I love like my own and to say that we can no longer spontaneously meet at the park or the pool or celebrate birthdays together is a radical understatement. 

As most life situations do, I've unexpectedly experienced reflections into my own soul, deeper thoughts on my own personal journey. 

I have a tattoo on my foot that says "Here am I, Send me" in Hebrew. This comes from Isaiah 6:8 and is the story of Isaiah's beautiful encounter with God and the Heavenly creatures and God's invitation asking, "Who will go?  Who will I send?"  Without hesitation Isaiah declares that he is ready, "Send me!"  Even though I know from reading further that what follows is an experience of hell on earth as Isaiah embraces God's call and invitation, having the willingness of Isaiah has been the desire and cry of my heart ever since I first dove into this story as a young teenager.  I want to go absolutely wherever God may lead, do whatever God may ask, sacrifice and risk.  I'm not afraid.  I won't turn back. In fact, it all sounds very exciting and energizing. I am dauntless. Send me!

I always imagined this zeal and appetite for adventure would lead me to far away places, require me to leave all that is familiar behind, and lead to a magnificent and mysterious life.   

Instead my sister is moving to Wyoming. They are leaving all they know for open space, mountains, and rodeos smack dab in the middle of nowhere. They are making sacrifices (the closest MAC makeup store is 4 hours away!) and doing this thing of obedience that is crazy and unknown. 

And me, this girl who has always cried, "Here am I! Send me!", I'm staying put in this Midwestern town where I have now officially lived longer than I have ever lived anywhere else. Don't get me wrong. I do not want to move to Wyoming. I'm so not signing up for that, but I never imagined that my craving to do whatever God says would lead me to just stay put. 

And that's the thing. That's what I'm supposed to do. This is where I'm supposed to be. My obedience is just to stay where I am. It is continually confirmed to me that I am being sent to stay.   I've had to wrap my mind and heart around that because it is not what I have ever imagined for my life. I also never pictured myself having the opportunity to invest in friendships  over a long period of time and to be impacted so greatly by these relationships and find such purpose, meaning, fulfillment, and abundance in my daily life and the facets of ministry where God has plopped me and then just gently beckoned me to have the strength to stay put.   

"Here am I! Send me!"  It's the cry of my heart. I am right here and I'm staying right here. Send me to stay. I'm ready. 

"Where you go, I'll go

Where you stay, I'll stay

When you move, I'll move

I will follow you..."

-Chris Tomlin 

Momtemplation: Kingdom Experience

I so often feel that I don't fit, out of place, as if I belong somewhere else, in another world. I find myself lost, longing, and dreaming. Certainly it is because I actually don't belong here; I was designed for Heaven, for unity with God, unbroken presence with the Divine. And so I am left longing and waiting. 

I am left longing and waiting, and yet I find myself living and experiencing in the meantime. As I often find myself reflecting on my life as a mom, I revel in the reality of experiencing the Kingdom through my children. I believe in the present Kingdom, the reign of God dynamically active throughout history, in the present, and in the future through Jesus Christ. It is the spiritual world in which God is King; the realm in which God's will is revealed and fulfilled. 

Children are evidence of God's sovereign reign. 

As I live alongside my children, teach them and watch them discover the reality, beauty, and love of God, I feel more as though I belong. I experience the Kingdom. Heaven touches earth. 

Keira came to me on the morning of March 3 and told me that she wanted to ask Jesus into her heart. She had been reading through her Bible story book on her own for the several weeks prior and she had read the story of the Cross the night before. Something about reading it on her own sparked the desire to make the decision to follow Jesus. She told me a few days later that God is helping her to not be afraid anymore and to apologize more easily. The Kingdom is here. God is near. 

Judah sits in the back of the car making up songs. He sings at the top of his lungs, repeating that God never leaves you alone. Sometimes the lines rhyme, sometimes he just simply sings of God's love over and over again. God is sovereign. God is near. 

When Keira has to choose a small item to take to school and provide clues about what she has brought, she chooses a cross necklace. Her clues are that it is has to do with Good Friday and that it was God's plan all along. God is King. God is near. 

On Easter morning all 3 kids are gathered in our bed shouting, "Jesus is alive!  Jesus is alive! Jesus is alive!"  Heaven touches earth. God is near. 

Life is confusing and hard.  My seven year old already knows this. People are unkind and selfish. It doesn't make sense. We weren't designed for broken relationship. She already feels it, senses it, longs for something different. We talk about God's presence, God's guidance, God's love. The Kingdom is present. God is near. 

Elayne sings loudly as the radio plays, "He knows my name..."  "WHO knows your name, Elayne?" I call back to her.  "God!  God knows my name!"  My two year old is known and treasured by God, the creator of the world. God is near. 

There is an actual person growing inside of me. Another tiny life that will discover God in unique and beautiful ways and grow into the maturity of a relationship with God that ushers in freedom, that ushers in the present Kingdom. Divine presence is here. God is near. 

I have always wanted four children. The day Elayne was born, Matt declared that we could have another one. ("Um, babe... I just had a traumatic experience pushing this third one out. Can you give me a minute?  At least give me until tomorrow."). I knew we would regret it if we didn't have another one and I knew the clock was ticking. I officially fall in the 35 and over, "at-risk" group. In the medical world, I am actually classified as elderly for a pregnant woman. Elderly!  It actually says that on my paperwork. Before we decided to really start going for the fourth baby Shelton, I worried a bit about what people would think. Would they think we were crazy, stupid, foolish?  We both work full time demanding jobs, we are maxed out in many ways. Most days I wake up and think, "How can I keep this up?  I can't do it. It's too much.  I'm so tired."  And yet, the strength comes, the joy overshadows the challenge. I see God's face and God's love in the smiles of my children, in their questions, in their cries, in their voices, in their innocence. 

I realized that it doesn't matter what anyone may think. What I know is that children usher in God's presence, reveal God's sovereign reign, and grow into maturity with the capacity to change the world, to reveal and fulfill and proclaim Love of God. I get to have a part in that because I have the incredible privilege, responsibility, and gift of being their mom. It is the most humbling and beautiful experience I have ever had or could ever imagine. I don't find myself longing and waiting quite as much or quite as often. Heaven is touching earth. God's reign is sovereign.  God's love is real. The Divine presence is unbroken. God is near. 

"The people brought children to Jesus, hoping he might touch them. The disciples shooed them off.  But Jesus was irate and let them know it: 'Don't push these children away. Don't ever get between them and me. These children are at the very center of life in the kingdom. Mark this: Unless you accept God's kingdom with the simplicity of a child, you'll never get in.' Then, gathering the children up in his arms, he laid his hands of blessing on them."  Mark 10:13-16 (MSG)

Lasting Legacy

On January 1, 2015 a large group of us gathered; beautiful babies and toddlers, spirited elementary aged children and teenagers coming into their own;  parents, children, and their children's children; ordained ministers, educators, social workers, missionaries, and artists. The group gathered and the food piled in, way too much food.  The group gathered and the laughter began, hugs were shared, and memories were remembered. 

I remember the vacations on the lake and on the beach where the twelve cousins played on the beach and played in the sand, put on shows, and whispered secrets in hidden corners. 

I remember pool parties and mischief, music, and fun.  There were crazy lip sync contests, games, movies, and singing. 

Mixed with the laughter and the stories, always prayer and care, support and so much love. 

In the center of all, laughing to the point of tears, smiling with delight, offering words of  encouragement, telling stories of God's grace and claiming answered prayers has always been the beautiful woman who made it all possible. The woman who has grown more beautiful with each passing year and who has ushered peace into my heart throughout my life in ways that are incomprehensible. 

Peaceful moments of my childhood involve the special days when Gram lived in our home in Louisville. I loved the times when I somewhat timidly knocked on the door of her apartment at the end of the house and she welcomed me in to talk or watch TV or just sit in her presence. I always felt welcome, loved, special. 

It was during this time that Gram taught a class for the children at our church on Wednesday nights, a class that consisted of only Gretchen and me. Although we were the only kids who showed up, she prepared as if she were leading a vibrant children's ministry. The stories were told to us from the heart and I am sure life application was shared. One evening she asked if I had asked Jesus into my heart and if I wanted to. Of course I did!  She led me through a prayer of salvation.  I was 5 years old and my journey with Christ began. 

I remember a day during my freshman year of high school when I woke up with tears spilling for no reason from the moment I opened my eyes. I cried and I cried and I didn't know why. Perhaps teenage insecurity, a rough time of the month, or the general emotional struggles I continue to have to overcome. I missed my ride to school and mom did not know what to do with me. She finally forced me in the car, my eyes wet and puffed, still resisting. The closer we got to school, the more out of control I became. As a final resort, she took me to see Gram. It seems that before I could even say a word, Gram told me how I felt. I didn't even know what I was feeling,  but she did and she could name it. Being understood opened the door to freedom and healing that day. She spoke understanding and peace and love.  And she prayed. I have always felt the power in Gram's prayers. Her dedication as a prayer warrior has always been awe-inspiring and I experienced a miracle that day as her prayer enabled my tears to dry and hope to surface once again so that I could face the challenges and be open to the joy of life. 

I am beyond grateful for all the cherished moments.  There was a memorable trip when circumstances forced mom, Gram, and I to drive 6 hours "cheek to cheek", all three of us together, in the front seat of an old car. The laughter and conversation was crazy and real. I am sure that truth was spoken and we all knew how much we matter to each other. I am grateful for the continued love and that my own children get to experience the blessing of "G.G."

Most of all, I am thankful for the legacy. It is a legacy where family is the lasting foundation and Jesus holds it all together. Generations now and in the future have and will impact this world with love and truth, prayer and hope.  There is so much of this that is the result of Gram's faithfulness and the decision she and Grandpa made many years ago to live lives devoted to the Lord. 

I am so blessed. We are so blessed. Thanks be to God for the indescribable gift!

My Fear Landscape

In lieu of the Insurgent premiere it seems apropos to finally put into words my fear landscape.  In the first book of the Divergent series, Dauntless initiates are put into a simulation and must face their worst fears and find a way to overcome them in order to move on to the next stage of training and be welcomed into the Dauntless faction. Given my near, or possibly full blown, obsession with all things Divergent, and my Dauntless choice, it is only natural that I should give full consideration to discovering my fear landscape and identifying ways to overcome these fears. 

Identifying the fears for my personal fear landscape is somewhat of a challenge. I have revisited some of the nightmares from my childhood that are still vivid in my memory. Could these reveal deep seated fears?  I had a recurring nightmare involving getting to school and then realizing I forgot to wear my shoes. However, I don't actually think I have a fear of bare feet; rather, it is more likely that these dreams were a foreshadowing of my extreme love for shoes.  I also remember a dream involving a giant rock man chasing me. (Imagine a snowman built out of rocks with trees for arms, standing 12 feet tall.) Some time after having this recurring dream, I realized that I was associating the personified rock man with Satan, and let me tell ya, I am NOT afraid of that dumb loser.  I happen to be super tight with the One with way more power than that sorry ass has.  So, that knocks weird rock man out of my landscape. 

A lot of people are scared of clowns, but not me.  I actually had a borderline creepy love for the movie "It" growing up. 

I used to be scared of losing my mind, but the older I get, I realize there is no escaping this. I am going to lose my mind someday, so I might as well embrace it. 

So what am I afraid of?

Fear #1:  CROWS

A few summers ago, when Keira was a baby and I was a Resident Director, there was a strange infestation of crows that flooded AU's campus at night. On several occasions, I arrived home with my baby, otherwise alone, while Matt was working, and opened my car door to the sound of literally thousands of crows hovering and squawking overhead. The sound was deafening and I knew that I had to shield my baby and run the 30 feet to the door to get into the residence hall like our lives depended it. I imagined them swarming us and pecking us to death.  Once inside, I could still hear him, squawking their angry death threats and my imagination went crazy.  I just knew they were going to decide to all slam into the windows at once and infest our apartment and leave us all for dead.  I slept with Keira close and prayed that we would live to see the morning. Crows would definitely make the cut for my fear landscape. 

Fear #2:  CATS

When I was 9 years old, I bought a kitten at a church auction for a quarter and named her Cheerio.  Since we lived near fields and farms, it wasn't long until Cheerio was taken advantage of and impregnated by some deadbeat tomcat. This began a stream of kittens being born in our garage.  Cheerio had to the be the youngest great grandma in history. I don't even want to know what kind of crazy incest was going on.  There could have even been a cat brothel being run out of the local preacher's home for all we know. It was disturbing. And then it got worse. Eventually all the kittens were either given away or ran away into the fields never to return,  Cheerio's run in the Dreger home was over, and we were all somewhat relieved. Until.  Until winter rolled around and a group of stray cats discovered our crawl space. I would wake in the night to the horrific sounds of cats mating and fighting. One night, after hearing the most terrifying sounds I have heard coming from living creatures right outside my window, I fell back asleep and had a dream. My dad crawled under the house to get the cats out and the scary cats killed him. The cats killed my dad. Stupid Cheerio. One does not recover from that. I still feel my body chill and my breath quicken when a cat enters a room. Cats are unpredictable and just plain creepy.  Seriously, I will kill spiders with my bare hands, but keep your cute little kitten away from me. 

Fear #3:  BEING ALONE

Okay, I have issues. Don't judge me. You have issues too. If you don't know you have issues, you need to get a grip, get a counselor, or just get over yourself. We all have issues, got it?  This is one of mine. I just don't like to be alone. This fear is not even about being void of meaningful relationships; it is literally about physically being myself.  It also is not about physical vulnerability that may occur while by myself.  I'm not afraid of the boogie man.  I just don't like being alone. Being by myself makes me too emotionally vulnerable.  There. I said it.   (Issues, issues...) I was a complete lobby rat in college. I didn't go up to my room until I knew for sure that I would fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I recognized this as an issue 15 years ago and knew that I should overcome it so I got an apartment by myself when I went to grad school. It. Was. Miserable. It was miserable until I made friends and began having constant dinner parties or staying out with them until my head was ready to hit the pillow.  Before that, I just cried all the time and spent the other dead space talking on the phone. I tried being by myself one more time, but I met Matt one month into that stint and didn't have to suffer through it for long. Being alone is just overrated. I do enjoy thinking and reflecting, but why?  Why be alone when you don't have to be?  My fear landscape would involve me sitting in a white room all by myself with no way to escape.  

Fear #4:  UNKNOWN

My imagination is pretty crazy. I have sort of an irrational fear of being in a car accident involving driving into a body of water. This could potentially be in my fear landscape, except I have it completely planned out how I would get out of this mess. I have thought through every detail of how my entire family could be saved in this particular scenario. There is no way that anyone can prepare for how they may respond to unexpected death or illness. I have a feeling that I wouldn't respond to it very well. I wouldn't respond very well at all, but I've thought about it.  I know that these experiences are inevitable and I have a sense of readiness. Survival is possible with faith. However, there is this broad category of unknown that could potentially elicit fear. What about tragedies and challenges that I haven't thought of or already turned over in my mind?  What about utter and complete loss of control?  This is fairly broad, but this fear can be summed up as uncharted catastrophe. 

Fear #5: STATUS QUO SLAVERY

I must have the hope of adventure. I fear emptiness and lack of purpose. If I were trapped in a world without the hope of something new, it would be torture. 

The lyrics from one of my fave Nichole Nordeman songs speaks to this...

So long,status quo, I think I just let go

You make me wanna be brave

The way it always was is no longer good enough

You make me wanna be brave

Brave, brave

I am small and I speak when I'm spoken to

But I am willing to risk it all

I say Your name, just Your name

And I'm ready to jump

Even ready to fall

So long, status quo

You make me wanna be brave. 

Fear #6:  THREATS TO MY FAMILY

I love them like crazy. 

And that's it. There could be more fears that could crop up in my landscape, but I'm not much for fear. I'm kind of over it. 

Fear is a thief. It is paralyzing and it is the thief of the incredible freedom that we have the opportunity to embrace through Christ. I refuse to live in fear. I kick fear in the face.  I slam fear into the darkness and shine a light that says, "Get away from me, you little pansy cake!  You are not allowed up in here."  And then I go on living with hope and I don't look back. 

Amanda Cook and Bethel Music:

I have heard You calling my name

I have heard the song of love that You sing

So I will let You draw me out beyond the shore

Into Your grace

Your grace

You make me brave

You make me brave

You call me out beyond the shore into the waves

You make me brave

You make me brave

No fear can hinder now the love that made a way

You make me brave

You make me brave

You call me out beyond the shore into the waves

You make me brave

You make me brave

No fear can hinder now the promises you made

You make me brave

You make me brave

No fear can hinder now the love that made a way

Because Your love, in wave after wave

Crashes over me, crashes over me

You are for us

You are not against us

Champion of Heaven

You've made a way for all to enter in

A Passionate Young Life

My second baby turned 5 on Saturday. 

I was reflecting this morning on how easily he made his entrance into the world, especially compared to my two girls.  I sexed, bounced, and spicy food-ed myself into an easy labor.  The contractions were simple and I had time to fix my hair and make-up before heading to the hospital in plenty of time to receive an epidural before the pain got crazy and less than two hours later he came out in two easy pushes.  Matt was so stunned that we had a boy that he just stared in wonder and muttered a confused, “no” when asked if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord.   For some reason, we both had anticipated being a family of all girls.  Judah Lynn surprised us.  And he continues to surprise us.  

His very early days as an infant were easy, apart from the occasional spraying poo.  He slept well, ate well, and seemed very easy going and laid back.  I am not entirely sure when that all changed.  Looking back, I remember that about 6 months after he was born, I realized that immediately after he was born, I reverted to my pre-pregnancy coffee drinking habits.  I was so careful during pregnancy to limit my coffee intake or knock it out all together.  I somehow forgot that nursing babies get a portion of what mommy eats in their milk.  Oops.  

My second baby is a feeler.  He feels everything deeply and with great enthusiasm.  Watching him watch movies is my favorite.  If something is exciting, he runs around the room uncontrollably, jumps up and down, screams and laughs.  It is incredible to watch.  If something scares him, he buries his head and wimpers.  Last week we watched a movie and it appeared that one of the main characters had died.  He wailed in grief, tears streaming down his face.  It was heartbreaking, breathtaking, hilarious, and beautiful all at the same time.  

His affection and passion is catching.  He loves to comfort his baby sister.  I have heard him tell her on multiple occasions, in a very matter-of-fact manner, “Elayne, God is always with you.  God is with you when you are scared.  God is with you when you are alone.  God is with you when you are getting your hair brushed.  God is always with you.”  He told Matt recently that he wants to be a pastor someday because he loves to talk about God all the time.  He also wants to be a superhero, a fire fighter, a worship leader, and a rock star.  Certainly whatever he does, he will do it with passion.

Judah is my child.  Last night he nearly threw a fit because there were potatoes left on his fork and he didn’t want them to touch his porkchop.  His food can’t touch and he is incredibly picky.  I get it and I feel for him.  Vegetables are questionable while pancakes, waffles, and anything sweet can be swallowed whole, one right after another.  He is my child.  He can sleep anywhere.  It is not unusual to find him on the floor, in the hallway, under a bed, or in someone else’s bed.  

I am quite sure that Judah is Matt’s child as well.  Last night as it was time to go through (one of) the grueling daily routines of changing into pajamas in preparation for the dreaded bedtime, he asked me if he could still wear pajamas, now that he is grown, or if he is only able to wear his underwear.  Apparently, in observation of his daddy, grown men only wear the bare necessities when they sleep.  I assured him that his Spiderman, Batman, Ninja Turtle, and monkey footie pajamas are still more than suitable for a five year old.  

The love in my heart for this kid cannot be contained. I treasure the moments with him, who he is and who he is becoming.