the bully that spilled my kid's milk.

Christian got bullied at school earlier this week. In the cafeteria at lunch. He came home in tears and it took every ounce of everything I had not to cry as he told me what happened. Evidently a first-grade boy purposely knocked over Christian's milk and proceeded to put his hat, gloves, and lunchbox in the puddle of milk.  I was equal parts furious and heartbroken, on the inside of course. I tried my absolute best to be supportive on the outside. To turn this into a learning opportunity, and be a warm place for Christian to snuggle and recuperate his sad little soul. 

As soon as he had bounced back enough to go play, I sent a I'mSuperPissedButI'mTryingToMaintainMyComposure email to both his teacher and principal about the incident. Let me start by saying that I LOVE Christian's teacher so much. I wasn't the least bit surprised when she emailed me back first thing the next morning and was already on top of it. Yos, Christian, and I were able to meet with his teacher and the principal that afternoon to discuss the details of the event and they reassured me that the bully had been identified and was serving an appropriate consequence. 

I HATE that my son was picked on. He is my son. Nobody is allowed to hurt his feelings. I'm almost surprised by how I reacted. I was a mama bear. I was going to do whatever I had to in order to make sure that this was going to be fixed - that this other little boy would be spoken with about how wrong it is to pick on other kids. 

As we left the school after that meeting, finally, the steam coming out of my ears had been replaced with satisfaction and optimism that this wouldn't happen again. In the relief, I found myself thinking about this other boy. At seven years old, this isn't quite like the time a couple years ago where Nolan bit the tot sitting next to him at daycare to see what would happen. Now, that was mean too, but this child is at an age where he can likely understand that it is wrong to tease other children. To spill their milk and laugh while you soak their hat, gloves, and lunchbox in it... Who even does that? Kids who are needing something that they aren't getting. That's who. 

Later in the evening, I explained to Christian that hurt people, hurt people. I told him how bullying is often is a result of something that the bully has going on inside instead of a problem with the person on the receiving end of the unkind actions or words. 

You know what my guy said in response to that? 

"I hope he isn't too hurt on the inside, maybe I can think good things for that boy so his insides can get better." 

And just like that, once again, Christian shows me what grace looks like. 

Until next time,

Carmen

365.

One year ago today, Jill and I sat anxiously in the IVF clinic waiting for our turn. The RE transferred two sweet little embryos and we all hoped and prayed with all our might.

Today on the phone, Jill told me that Bunny will sit up supported by pillows.

You guys, it's been the most incredible year. For them, but for me too. I'm so blessed to have been a part of something so wonderful... so magical and SO full of love. I spoke with both Jack and Jill today to celebrate our transfer-versary and I am completely overwhelmed with the love and appreciation we share for each other.

Today, as he often says on our calls, Jack said, "Thank you." ..... Those words simply don't capture what his voice is saying. They don't capture the pride he has for his baby. The words don't touch the love he holds in his heart for the life we all worked so hard to bring into this world. The words just aren't enough; they aren't full enough, or rich enough, they just aren't enough to convey what he actually means.

But that's ok, because of course I say, "You're welcome." This isn't really what I'm saying of course. What I'm actually saying is "I WOULDN'T CHANGE IT FOR THE WORLD!" I'm actually telling him that it was an honor to carry Bunny. It's so freaking profound that it changed me in ways that I never could have imagined. I'm actually saying that this adventure we had together touched my life in a way that words will never convey.

So we say things like "Thank you" and "You're welcome" even though each of us knows that those things aren't what we actually mean. We mean so much more.

Until next time,
Carmen

breaking my heart.

Sometimes being a parent can be absolutely heartbreaking.

We've created these tiny humans are who perfect, and tiny, and wonderful. I held them as they took their firsts breaths of life as tears ran down my face. I've held them at night, rocking silently away dreaming of how many possibilities are waiting for this little person. I've wiped their tears and calmed their fits. I've held their hands as they venture off to a list of firsts. First day of school, first day of swimming lessons, first day flying solo at daycare...

I get to hear about their days, and their lunches, and their friends.  I get to encourage them to try new things with only a reasonable amount of fear. I listen to their stories and help them with their letters and numbers. I've nurtured these little bodies and little souls with only what I can hope is the best of myself.

I have dreams for them. Dreams of happiness, and curiosity, and joy. Dreams that they'll only encounter struggles that will make them stronger, and wiser. Dreams that they'll grow up some day far in the distance and become genuine friends to the people in their lives, and be passionate men who crave the most out of life. Men who not only chase after their own dreams, but catch them as well.

But the truth is, life does not always look like this. Life can be hard, and unfair, and ridiculously hard some more. The truth is that everyone struggles to find a place in this big old world, and instead of feeling like an exciting adventure, it often feels like a mess of a road trip. The sting of life is real, and the silence of sorrow is deafening. And while I hope that my young men are as lucky as I, and only have fleeting moments of the ache of a life well lived, I must acknowledge that life can be messy and hard. And at the end of the day it simply breaks my heart that my perfect, tiny, child will ever have to know what that is like.

Until next time,
Carmen