Matt Tells Me It's Sterile

In my most hectic mothering moments I've done some brainless things; put clean coffee cups away in the fridge, left the van running, lost a 2 pound pork roast between the grocery store parking lot and home. These are just the tip of the iceberg. However, last night when I was getting the boys in the tub I had a rare moment of mental clarity. Thank goodness.


I was cleaning up the last of the dinner dishes so Henry and Adam beat me to the bathroom, stripped and climbed into the water I had waiting for them. I was just about to pour some Papa Smurf body wash into the tub when I remembered (a) seeing this bottle empty 2 nights ago (b) I never leave bubble bath in the tub because the boys used an entire bottle in one bath one too many times and (c) that Papa Smurf bubble bath wasn't yellow last I checked. Or warm. This body wash definitely didn't belong in the tub. It did however belong in the toilet. And I put it there immediately.

 Or rather, just as soon as I snapped a picture of the sample (it was quite an impressive amount).

And a quick picture of the sample being placed in its appropriate porcelain apparatus.

And another quick picture of the presumably guilty parties watching the sample go down.

And one last picture of the true guilty character. That would be the innocent-looking, short one on the right. Yup. When the full story came out I learned that this little tyke  - who can't shoot straight when he pees in the toilet - managed to get every drop into the little rim of that Papa Smurf bottle.

Mother's Day

On Sunday I celebrated my 6th Mother's Day. This picture captures perfectly how I felt that day from the moment I opened my eyes in the morning to the minute I laid my head on my pillow that night.

Motherhood is the most awesome gift I've received. Because of it I've been stretched beyond my wildest dreams. I have learned am learning how to become more selfless with my time, desires, and sleeping habits. Everyday I find a new reason to love Matt more deeply than the day before. And with each living, breathing, back-talking blessing we add to our family I am learning that my ability to love and guide my children is best reflected in the love that Christ has for me.

*   *   *

Thank you Matt for being such a joyful companion down the road of parenthood. In my heart of hearts I know that we were made to journey though life together. Henry, Adam and Claire are so blessed by your example. Our boys are learning to be dedicated, hard working, loving fathers' and Claire will know what kind of man she should look for when we let her start dating at 43.

And to my big-hearted first born Henry, thank you for loving me! Your encouraging words bless me daily. Your hugs and kisses surprise me when I need them the most. And when I look into your big brown eyes and see myself reflected there I am reminded of the miracle of life.

And Adam Scott Barron, how do I begin to describe the joy, life and laughter you bring to my life. Your love of hard work (especially outdoors with dada) inspires me. Your big voice, hilarious words, and "broken tooth" smile make me laugh from the depths of my belly. The honesty that flows from your heart melts my own. You have a determination that is unparalled.

And to the little girl who made us a family of five, you are loved by all of us more than you will know. Your smile melts me, and your dad and your brothers and your grandma and every grocery checker or stranger we pass on the street. You've been described on numerous occasion as "sparkly" and I tend to agree. You are sweet and feisty and you bring out the best in me.

I love all of you bunches.

The Best of Friends

My boys love "their chothers" as Henry would say. They love "their chothers" (each other) so much that sometimes the passion boils over into arguing. Here are just a few examples from the past couple weeks.

*     *     *

Henry: "Adam, I'm pretty sure I wipe better than you."
Adam: "No you don't. I wipe better."
Henry: "No Adam. I'm 5 1/2. And you're not even 3 1/2 so that means I wipe better."
Adam. "When I'm 5 I will wipe better dan you."
Henry: "No. Because when you're 5 I'll be old. And wipe better."

*     *     *

Adam: "Care Bear (Claire Bear) pees out of her little bottom."
Henry: "No Adam. Claire Bear pees out of her big bottom on her back and her little bottom on her front."
Adam: "No she doesn't!"
Henry: "Yes she does!
Adam: "No she doesn't!"
Henry: "Yes she does!"
Me:      "Boys. Claire pees out of her little bottom on her front and poops out of her big bottom on her back."
Henry and Adam: (pondering) "Oh."

 (This argument is ongoing. I don't think they've grasped the concept)

*     *     *

Henry and Adam are arguing over something insignificant and annoying and bothersome.
Me: "Boys, Please stop arguing. It hurts my ears and my heart."
Henry: "We're not arguing."
Adam: "Yes we are."
Henry: "No we're not."
Adam: "Yes we are."
Henry: "NO we're NOT."

Big Sur Baby

The story goes something like this ...

A few more details might help a bit. Jenny and I met in Milwaukee, Wisconsin when our husbands were in Medical School. During that time we became the best of friends when we trained for the 2004 Chicago Marathon together. Eight years later (along with 5 kids between us, a ridiculous number of phone calls and texts to stay connected and hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical school debt) Jenny convinced me to run the 2012 Big Sur Marathon with her. It would be a back to back Big Sur attempt for her (and her 6th marathon!) and my second attempt at conquering the legendary 26.2. And because this bunch of Barron's loves the Heyboer gang we decided to make a family vacation out of it. And I am so, so glad that we did.

The marathon was insane. I mean more difficult than I could have imagined. The hills were relentless. I expected that. What did knock me off me feet (literally) was the wind! According to the paper the day after the race it was one of the toughest (windiest) runs in the 27 year history of the Big Sur Marathon. I thought I was mentally prepared for a windy run. Big Sur is however often windy. But I was NOT prepared for what blew in our face with little reprieve from mile 6 to mile 26. Jenny handled it like a champ. She is a true Montana mountain momma. I have more respect and admiration for her than she will ever know. I felt great for the first half. I even "enjoyed" the legendary 2 mile, 500 foot elevation gain ascent to Hurricane point. But something happened around mile 16. Call it chest pains. Call it a stabbing pain in my left shoulder. Call it crazy. Whatever it was it resulted in this ...

Everything checked out fine. I expected that it would. But when the pain was just getting worse and an ambulance appeared around the corner I had to have peace of mind that my heart was ticking just as it should. Jenny embraced the moment as part of our Big Sur experience and snapped a few pictures.

From there on I was struggling. Honestly, I wanted to stop and walk it in at mile 17 but I knew it would be a long, cold, windy, hilly, depressing walk. So I plugged along with Jenny by my side until I officially "hit the wall" somewhere around mile 21 or 22. I knew I hit the wall when I began spewing F-bombs repeatedly and started moaning uncontrollably like a cow in labor. It was a very strange experience and honestly I'm just very lucky I didn't puke and crap my pants. I thought I was going to. I knew my body had maxed out. I urged Jenny to go ahead because she was more than up for the challenge. And I willingly succumbed to my fate of walk/running the last few miles. Honestly, it was the most beautiful walk of my life.

Crossing the finish line with a time of 4:56 was equal parts exhilarating (because I could finally eat, drink and sit) and disappointing. I had trained my butt off for this race and I was really hoping for a better time. It wasn't until the next day when I drove the course with Matt and the kids that I felt ridiculously proud of what I had accomplished. Running a marathon is never easy. Ever. Running from Big Sur north to Montery along highway one is insane. Thank you Matt Barron for building me up like you never have before and speaking words of encouragement to me on that drive. I have never seen my husband more proud of me. Honestly. Not even when birthing our three children (which I might add was 1000 times easier than this marathon).


                                                      *             *             *             *

Heading out for the start line.

The legendary piano man (who Jenny asked, "Do you remember me from last year?").

Pictures can not capture the feeling or beauty of this race.

When we made it back Henry greeted me with a big hug
and said, "Momma I prayed for you that you would win."
Fat chance son.

Claire admiring my medal. I can't help but wonder if she'll ever run a marathon.

The fantastic shirts that Jenny made for all the kids.

Still can't believe I ran this coastline.

The End.

And can I just say that I am so, SO impressed

by Pete and Jenny Heyboer.

Stumped

Henry: "Adam. I know everything."
Adam: "No you don't."
Henry: "Yes I do."
Adam: "No you don't."
Henry: "Yes I do."
Adam: "No you don't."
Me: "Boys stop arguing. Henry, you don't know everything. For example, what kind of doctor is dada?"
Henry:"An-thol-gist."
(Crap. He's right.)
Me: "Well, what kind of crop does Papa Jim grow?"
Henry: "Walnuts."
(For crying out loud. Right again.)
Me: "Where did momma go to school?"
Henry: "At the little school on the way to Max, Betsy and Macey's house?"
(What?!? I need to think of harder questions.)
Me: "Where did dada and I meet?"
Henry: "At your wedding."
(Finally! I can prove him wrong. Where in the world does he get his argumentative nature anyway?!)
Me: "No. We met at college. Now eat your lunch."
Adam: (under his breath to Henry) "I fink momma forgot you know everyfing."

A New Creation

A month ago, over a lunch of PB&J, Goldfish crackers and grapes, Henry asked Jesus into his heart . It was a sweet, sincere and powerful moment. It really started weeks before with questions like "How does God fits in our heart?" and "Do we feel safer when he's there?" During lunch on this particularly sunny day (rare for the wet weather we've experienced this spring) we were talking about all the wonderful gifts God has given us. Adam shared that his favorite gift was his family. Henry shared that his favorite gift was God and asked how he could ask Him into his heart. We prayed a simple, sweet prayer and with the faith of a child a new heart was created in my 5 year old little boy. He instantly wanted to help me around the house, share his toys selflessly with Adam, feed Claire and clean up after himself without whining. In my heart of hearts I knew I was witnessing a heart being molded into the image of Christ.

And then this morning, over a breakfast of cereal and O.J, he drew me these pictures ...



"Momma With a Big Butt"  by Henry Barron



"Adam Going Poop on the Potty" by Henry Barron

... and in a (hilarious) instant I was reminded that the process of becoming like Christ is a lifelong process muddled by our humanness. And made beautiful by God's forgiveness. Thank you Henry Thomas Barron for always keeping me humble. And prayerful. And on the verge of insanity.

(In all seriousness, the moment Henry asked Jesus into his heart was one of the most amazing parenting moments I've experienced. Matt and I celebrated Henry's choice by taking just him to breakfast and giving him a book. We continue to tell him how we see him changing by being more patient, kind and loving with his siblings. I wrote down the date (March 12th, 2012) and we plan to celebrate his "Spiritual Birthday" every year with the gift of a small book or devotional and by selecting and memorizing a new bible verse each year that we hope will be symbolic of his spiritual growth for that particular year.)

The Right to Bear Arms

With the exception of my dad I grew up in an all female household. So when I stumble upon scenes like this I am so confused. And amused. And grossed out by what might be on that gun. Oh well.