Community

           I believe we are all searching or at least most of us. We are searching for a community that will accept us for who we are and love us. I want to have somewhere I belong and I know it's important for my children to feel accepted and loved.
          In Oregon that was our church family. We spent a lot of time at bible studies, playgroups, hanging out with friends from church, and I spent time with the high school girls. It was fun! We were all comfortable there.
         After our move to California I yearned for that same community. The first week here I opened the yellow pages and called around looking for playgroups and community. I needed it.
         We went to a few different places over a few years. I feared we had become church hoppers. We couldn't find a place we really fit in. It was like the three little bears. One church was too big and the other one was all the way across town. What were we to do?
         Meanwhile I developed a wonderful community. I have kind, supportive, loving friends. These friends are extra special to me. They keep me accountable when I am not in my right mind and they run with me. All in all these ladies are amazing!
         As time went on we didn't exactly give up our church search but we were content to be in limbo. Then we kind of got sucked into attending a church that had never cross my mind to try. It was full of old people and I could just picture what they would think of my sometimes ill behaved children. I hate getting the look!
          Bret (the kid) received a scholarship to attend St. Andrew's music camp. My children have all gone to preschool there but the preschool is run separately from the church. The catch was that at the end of music camp the children put on a performance the following Sunday at church.
          I walked in not knowing what to expect but I thought I knew. One look around the room proved my theory wrong. Yes, there were a lot of people well along in years at this church but where was that 'eye' I was expecting? It was no where to be seen. These people looked around the room at all the squirrely children and on their faces was nothing but joy. Not pretend joy either. It was the real deal.
          There are churches with great music out there and great family communities but this church felt like home. So we stayed. We have been going for a few years now. In the time we have been there they have seen some Millar children fits, Mary talking in a not so quite church voice, and a time or two I have feared my children might break someone's hip in the rush to get the last hot chocolate packet. All of these events have been received with smiles and nods of understanding. Just yesterday Mary could be seen army crawling under the pews when church was over. Of course this was encourage by the onlookers smiling and waving to her.
          I have a group of friends who are very dear to me and now I also have the support and love of a church family. My family feels cared for. It is a good place to be.
          Yesterday the day of the big army crawl it was just Mary and I at church. I dropped her off in the kid room and then it was just me. These moments are rare. So rare in fact that I felt myself begin to zone out. How long had it been since I just sat? Plus we were singing hymns. To justify myself they are a bit relaxing.
          Then the Pastor Anne began to preach. I wanted to get the most out of the time so I perked up. I was surprised by what I heard. Here stood a woman I admire very much and my admiration for her grew even bigger. She was sharing her views on what being gay means to her and what she thinks it means for our church.
          I have always been one to avoid hot topics. I hate heated conversations and pointless arguments. The kind where both people have their views and you know neither will change. I don't talk about health care, I don't share who I vote for, I don't talk about welfare, or the wars our country fights in. I have my views and I keep them to myself.
          As I am sitting there listening to Anne in the back on my mind I am also thinking of my high school teachers blog entry from not so long ago. Jan Priddy another woman that I admire very much had written a blog that touched on the subject of how gay men and women are treated. I wanted to comment so very badly but I didn't. As always, I held my thoughts. To put them in writing gives them the chance to start some sort of argument.
          The message Anne shared was a message of love. It was a message of being inclusive. She shared her feelings about our church being a place everyone can call home. To me that is truly the message of Jesus.
          As I listened I was humbled. Anne is standing there in front of our church family sharing what she believes in but what have I personally done? Nothing. I have been quiet on an important subject for the sake peace. Because I don't want to argue with people.
          I never want to be someone that forces my opinions of faith on those around me but as I hear and read stories of those that have been hurt in the process of other peoples religion it makes me sad. I don't want to be grouped with people that are not showing love to everyone around them. I can't myself believe that Jesus would even for one little second have behaved in such a way.
          I want to provide my children with a place that will always accept and love them. I do not want them to feel tolerated but included. If one of my children or grandchildren is gay I want them to have the strength to be who they are and know they will be loved.
          In this place right now I believe that I have that. From teachers, to friends, and back around to church we have so many loving people in our lives. We have been held up and supported in many life changes. We have gone through job loss, moving, adopting, fostering, and grief to name some. In all of these areas from all of these places we have been lifted up and cared for.
          I know that others feel differently and that's okay. I don't like to argue. I don't want to. I just want to do the best I can raising my children in a way that I believe honors God.

Oh and anyone that reads this that is really my friend won't tell my 10 year old that I posted a picture of him on a public blog dressed as a wise man. Hehehehe!

Grandpa!

       "Grandpa, Grandpa?" Mary muttered from the back seat of my parents car. A few tears slid down and I was thankful Mom was in the store paying for gas. I distracted Mary with the trees outside and quickly wiped my cheeks.
       It was the day after my dad passed away. I didn't know if Mary would notice his absence. She hadn't been to Oregon many times but Grandma was there so she expected to see Grandpa also.
       I was sad that she missed him. I was sad that I knew it wouldn't last. She was only two. Their time together had been so short.
       The reality is that all of my children are young. My oldest was 9 when Dad passed away. He has memories but even his memories aren't totally sticking and Dad was pretty sick for a while. What he remembers is cuddling up and watching shows and the time they snuck out for root beer floats. That's still good stuff!
         I was so close with my Dad. I couldn't have my children growing up without knowing who he was. So I tried to mimic how Dad had shared about Grandaddy (his dad) with us. He would tell us his stories and jokes. I know Grandaddy was a kind and funny man. I know his favorite grandchild was whichever one happened to be on his lap. For years when we drove past his grave we said, "Hi Grandaddy!" Oftentimes Dad would say he loved him. It was always so happy. Never sad. Those were the types of memories I wanted to create. I started working in a lot of stories about Dad with my kids. I did my best to avoid tears.
         As the one year of missing Dad began to approach I started to backslide a little. There were lots of tears. I was texting a friend and sharing my sadness with her. I loved her response and it has helped me see more clearly the way God can use a person forever and ever. She said she understood why everything could be sad but was it possible that I could use the day to celebrate his life instead?
         That's all it took. Of course Dad wouldn't want me falling apart once a year for the rest of my life. What would he want me to do? Well the official name for the day is now, "Grandpa Day!" This year for Grandpa Day we ate all Grandpa's favorite foods. We ate nectarines, smoked salmon, watermelon, and don't forget the choco tacos! It may change every year or maybe we will just stick with the foods. It really doesn't matter.
        So that was that. I wanted to pass along who Dad was to my kids and now I had a plan. I continued to tell stories and we now have a holiday. What more could you need? Nothing is better than the real thing but I am trying to make the best of it.
        Now here we are in June. Well a few weeks ago I decided that we just must go out to eat as a family. Baby Cutie and Mary aren't exactly restaurant trained so it was a risk. Bret usually isn't up for these types of adventures but he sucked it up for me. I wanted my family time darn it!
         Everything was going pretty well. Then my salad arrived. The three older kids started looking around and sniffing as though there was a dead animal under the table. "What is that horrible smell?" asked Chloe. I shot her the evil eye and told her not to be rude. Then I looked over at Jackson. His nose was plugged and his eyes were kind of rolling back in his head. He actually looked like he may throw up as he was gasping for breaths of fresh air that could not be caught. I glanced at my salad and took a nice long whiff and realized that in one wonderful way I have become my dad!
         I could never understand his need to get a big gross salad with that nasty dressing. If I couldn't stand to sit next to him and smell it how could he ingest it. Gross!!! Here I sat with my salad putting my children through the very same torture and it wasn't even planned. I relented and let the bigger kids go over to the table next to the window for some fresh air.
         I am only now beginning to realize that Dad is so much a part of who I am that I don't need to worry that the kids won't know who he is. They will always know him as long as they know me. It's the best when I catch them doing things that he did and it happens more than one would think! Love you Dad!

When did it all change?

What happened to me?

Where did my striving to be perfect fail?

His name is Jackson, Jackson James Millar!

 

 

          It started out oh so sweet. Bret my mild mannered first child. Did I ever worry he would run away in a parking lot? Nope, not that boy. He stood beside the car patiently waiting for my hand. When it was time to leave the toy store were there fits? Nope, not that boy. We waved bye to all those lovely trains and we went on our way. Did I ever worry he would lose control and hurt another child? No, not that boy. Because he wouldn't even put himself in the line of fire. While all the other boys were downstairs whopping each other on the heads with swords my sweet little boy was upstairs hanging out with the girls and eating his well balanced snack. Wow, I must be super wonderful at this parenting stuff!

 

Next came Chloe.

A little wild? Yes!

 A bit spunky? Perhaps!

 All about keeping up with the boys? Oh-ya!

 

Maybe a few instances during toddlerhood she threw a fit or two.

A real fit? No!

Wow, I don't know what the big fuss is about? I am still pretty great at this parenting stuff!

 

          A third biological child was never the plan but the plan it became. We had always intended to adopt after the first two but we changed our minds. What the heck? How about one more?!?

 

          Then came Jackson. My sweet sweet Jackson. He started off easy. He went to bed at 8 from the time he was a newborn. He was a good eater. He fit right in. I totted him all over in the early days.

 

          Even though it was going well I was starting to get tired. Even relatively well behaved small children can leave you yearning for the days of a full nights sleep, time for a run, or heaven forbid an outfit that stays clear of baby food, poo, pee, or the smell of sour spit up. Life was busy while at the same time pretty under control.

 

          The next step for our family was a big one. We lived in our hometown Seaside Oregon. I love all the comforts of home. We enjoyed walks on the prom, good friends, Dairy Queen, and most of all the support of my parents. I treasure the memories of loading the kids up and heading over to get dilly bars and banana milk shakes with my dad and then continuing the walk up to the photo shop to visit mom. There is oh so much to be said for a strong family.

      

          This time it was Bret's turn. His dream life wasn't in Seaside. We talked and we prayed and we moved. We moved to a place I have come to love. Just outside of Santa Cruz in the town of Aptos. Don't worry, we have still managed to land ourselves in a very nice fog bank:)

 

          As we are settling in and trying to establish our family in a new area I began to notice changes. My now 18 month old Jackson seems to be losing his mind. How did this happen? It was then that I realized that thing Chloe did when she rolled up in a ball and cried and then began to suck her thumb was in fact not a fit.

 

          My child even under this oh so perfect parenting is no longer thriving. He is clearing my coffee table of papers in a fit of rage. Opening all the caps of the yogurt and dumping them out. At hearing the word, "no" he would tailspin into throwing himself on the floor while kicking, screaming, hitting, spitting, or biting.

 

          Spank him you say? Seems simple enough. A good spanking will draw the line in the sand. Law down the law. I am the queen of this castle. Alas it wasn't that easy. For a child that could throw a real fit he had absolutely no change when spanked. As a parent hardly clinging to sanity myself is it a good idea to be "spanking" my child when by the time I get to that point I also feel very out of control? My thoughts...... Probably not!

 

          I went to friends, family, and the ever helpful internet. Oh all the ideas sounded to great when they were explained. Take a toy away. No means no. A cold glass of water will startle him into listening. Time out. The happy chair. A time in. Take him on a date. Create a routine. Restrain him. Talk to him on his level. Have you tried a reward system? I am not discounting any of these ideas. I am sure they have all worked at different times and I heard every strategy listed here multiple times. It's just that they didn't work! I know what you're thinking. Maybe you didn't stick to one strategy long enough. I can assure you that I did.

 

          Just because we have a fit throwing 2 year old life doesn't stop. Chloe still has a birthday and what is a birthday without the Bruno clan? Do you know what Chloe would just love? The Children's Museum in San Jose.

 

          Away we went. The line was a little crazy. Not because it was long but because the kids were SO excited. The day seemed to pass without any drama. We played with bubbles, made corn husk dolls, and ran around like the pack of wild children they were.

 

          Then it was time to go. For the life of me I can't remember what even set the little crazy off? Shoes maybe? So as we were collecting all the kids and heading out old faithful flips.

 

          Now we aren't talking about the kind of flip out where you can drag the kid through the store by an arm. No we are not! It was a flopping and howling fit. At this time, in this very public place it didn't even phase me. I maneuvered Jackson and I over to a relatively empty area and held him tightly. I don't know how long we sat there but we sat there until he stopped. I remember feeling empowered. I wasn't empowered because I was the perfect parent but because I was Jacksons parent. I accepted that my child isn't perfect and I am not either. Shocking I know! All I can do is my best. Jackson has allowed me to learn more and dig deep. He has shaken my confidence. Is that bad? I think not. Probably the hardest issue that has come with my parenting of Jackson are the judgments from other people.

 

          Would I prefer that my child didn't cling to my leg and try to chase me to the parking lot after I worked in his class? Yes, yes, yes! It turns out you can't fully control other people, even a child. I do my best to direct him and I do follow through.

 

          The coolest thing about Jackson and his hot and cold personality is that all you have to do to be adored by him is treat him kindly and love him. As I look up after a long day at school what do I see? I see a toothless boy wearing high water jeans running down to hug me.

 

         

First Blog!

"What is a blog?" I asked Sarah about 7 years ago. My teenage niece turned to look at me with a face mingling between amusement and disgust. "That is like asking what the internet is!" was her response. At that point in my life I wasn't far out of teenage land myself. How did I miss this? I'll tell you how! Their names are Bret, Chloe and Jackson. I had two toddlers and a baby. My time for trolling on the internet looking for blogs didn't exist. Did I become so detached from the up and coming on purpose? No! I was just elbow deep is crazy.

Now life is different. The two toddlers and a baby are getting older. Bret is 10, Chloe is 8 and Jackson is 7. But wait! There's more... We adopted a sweet baby that has transformed into our spunky 3 year old. My little miss Mary. In September our newest family member came to join us. She is Mary's biological sister. For confidentiality purposes we can call her Cutie. She is our 18 month old foster daughter.

So here we are! Two mostly sane adults outnumbered and at times outsmarted by our brood of kids. Lets be real, anyone that knows us knows that the big family was mostly my idea but Bret is pretty great at this parenting stuff:) Lucky for the both of us.

I love being a mom and I love where God is taking my little family. I have so many forms of support in my life. I must give a big shout out to my running buddies! I cringe to think where I would be without you.

A few days ago I read a blog that a mother had written about the end of the school year craziness. I loved it! It validated where I have been the last couple of weeks. Down in the trenches of last minute projects and painfully packing or as the case sometimes is not packing lunches. We have baseball games and choir concerts. The list goes on and the jobs aren't all bad. Some of them are even fun! The one thing that can't be denied is that it can be overwhelming and as a mother I can often feel that I am coming up short on every front. As I share more about my mothering struggles it is becoming clear that there is a certain freedom in that honesty. Maybe writing about the chaos will help keep meaningful moments to the front and help some of that worry and self doubt stay to the back.

Happy Monday!