Ryan

Ryan Thomas Guiles.
My firstborn.
First boy.
June 17th, 2003.
He got his first name from his Daddy-Robert Ryan Guiles.
His middle name he got from my Dad, John Thomas. They share the same middle name.
I can't explain the joy he brought his Dad and I the day he was born.
An unplanned surprised.
Happily welcomed by friends and family.
The first Grandson for both sets of Grandparents.
Pure joy.

It's been almost six years since I have seen him. Since I have held him in my arms. Kissed him goodnight. Ran my fingers through his baby fine hair. Rocked him to sleep. Made his bottle. Gave him a bath. Got him up in the morning. Played outside.

My heart hurts for him. It aches. I want so bad to hold him and squeeze him tight. Hear him call me mommy more than just over the phone. I want to run my fingers through your thick curly hair. I want to watch you run and play. Push you on the swings.

I want so bad for you to know your brothers. For you to run and play with them. What I wouldn't do to have you here with me. To share you with your Daddy. I hope to come see you soon.

Until then, Ryan, I love you. I miss you. I pray for you all the time. I pray for your family in Michigan. I pray that when we do meet again you know exactly who I am. That we connect like it's only been a week since we've seen one another. I can't wait to see your Daddy and your Grandparents, too. It was rough but I still care for them. They still hold a special place in my heart. Just like you, Ryan.

I love you, my firstborn.

confessions of a stay-at-home-mom

Very rarely do we change into regular clothes. Jammies are so much more comfy and why dirty more clothes.

Speaking of dirty clothes. At any given moment I usually have about seven or eight loads to get done. Where do all these clothes come from?

Cleaning is not something I enjoy. In fact, I despise cleaning. And because of that my house is trashed about 99.9% of the time. I don't mean nasty plates everywhere and garbage piled high. I just mean you will step on about ten toys on your way to the bathroom. Just watch out for the GI Joe. That guy hurts.

Baby gates are a great invention. Not only do they keep children corralled like wild horses where they are safe but they also provide a great way of keeping at least one area of the house clean!

We consume way more than the recommended serving amount of marshmallows and pb&j sandwiches. You can't have one without the other and we eat that meal at least once a day!

Most times I am walking around with one shaved leg and one fuzzy leg. We can blame that on the two year old coming in demanding he needs more chocolate milk before he dies and the dog has to take him to the hospital. Or the husband coming in with the baby letting me know that he has, once again, pooped in his diaper. After the long conversation about color, consistency, amount and the dreadful smell the hot water is gone and so is my window of opportunity to shave the other leg. Thank God for slacks come Sunday mornings!

While on the topic of showers...they are a rare indulgence. I can count on getting one on Wednesday evening and Sunday morning but the other five days are a complete toss up. Same goes with the kids.

Sometimes I blame the messy house on the kids. Claiming they were totally out of control or really needy so I didn't have time to clean. That one doesn't really work!

I'm guilty of leaving the place a complete mess until five minutes before my husband walks in the door. Then there's a mad dash to get all the toys put away, dirty clothes where they belong, sippy cups in the sink and marshmallows off the floor.

There are SO many more confessions that I really should fess up to but for the meantime I will leave you with just those and come back later with lots more! Off to tidy up the house...

more

It seems I'm always wanting more. More clothes, more chocolate, more decorations for the home, more coke, more this and more that. I just want a bit more of everything. At what point will I be just satisfied with what I already have?

I have a great husband who works 40+ hours which provides me the luxury of staying home. I have two awesome little boys that bring me so much joy. Family and friends to help and support me. A roof over my head and food on the fridge. I have clothing that fits, shoes with soles and five space heaters keeping us warm. A van that works, a body so healthy I get the best life insurance rate.

Yet I want more.

I want a life. I want to get out of the house and DO something. Help people. Help myself. Help my family.

I want to MAKE something of myself. I know what your thinking-'But Tyra, you're a mom. A great mom. It takes a lot to be a mom, a stay at home mom at that.' And to you I say, 'Yes, you are correct.'

BUT.

You see, there's ALWAYS a but...

I don't feel complete yet. I want MORE.

A job, a CAREER, a degree. I want to travel to foreign lands and hold little children on my lap and share the love of Jesus with them. I want to volunteer here in town and make someones day brighter. I want to open a soup kitchen and feed all the poor and needy. I want to know their names. Give them a hug. Share with them about Jesus, too. I want more.

Am I really asking for too much?

Maybe for right now I am.

Maybe right now I have JUST ENOUGH. Enough to tide me over till I CAN get more. Enough to keep me going until I CAN get more.

wall

Constructed carefully. Each brick hand picked and set myself. As tall and as wide as I want. As strong and durable as I feel necessary. This wall is my friend. Maybe my best friend. It also doubles as my counselor. I don't really talk to this wall, you see. I just throw my feelings in it's direction and I'm done.

My wall has this awesome quality of stopping whatever I throw at it from getting to the outside world. Great characteristic, I think. Though I've been told it's really not all that.

Apparently it's not so safe to make best friends with a wall. I say to those people-y'all don't know what you're missing! Really, you don't!

You see, this wall has worked great since childhood. Built by me several years ago...still standing after years of abuse. Many ugly words, physical abuse and loss upon loss. It takes it all. I really should have been a brick layer. Okay-maybe not.

After all, this wall of mine, that I built myself, isn't really there. It's just a figment of my imagination. And as I get older the game of pretend is starting to wear off. I've been fooled. By my own self. Odd.

It's taken some time to realize this. Some time that I would have rather spent building my wall much higher. Much stronger. But, I've run out of bricks. I've run out of mortar. And honestly, I don't want to go get more. It's quite expensive.

The cost of building materials have gone up. Pretty expensive now, if you ask me. This wall I talk so fondly of has become an enemy of sorts. The great job it was doing of keeping my feelings in and away from others has now started to hurt me. And those very close to me. Mainly my husband. That wall. That blasted wall.

It's time I take you down. Piece by piece. No more holding back how I feel. No more ignoring how my husband feels. No more. Wall, I love you, you've been great. But now it's time to be honest with myself. With my husband. With my family and friends.

No more relying on the wall to keep me safe.

It's God's turn.

Thank You God

I found this video over at It's Almost Naptime and I just love it so I thought I would share it with all of you! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Blessings to each and every one of you!