Do you remember that scene in the movie Parenthood, at the end when wise old grandma is describing family life as either a merry-go-round or a roller coaster? If you haven't seen the movie, I can't say it's the greatest movie I've ever seen, but I do remember it had it's moments...and I still remember this scene, years later.

I couldn't help but think of it yesterday while my youngest son squealed in delight at his first finally tall enough to ride it, big roller coaster ride.

I was terrified for him. I knew he was safe, but he's my baby. Here he was about to be flung hundreds of feet in the air, flipping upside down, and defying gravity...and he just couldn't wait.

He had no idea what was ahead, but he knew it would rock his little world and usher in a new experience he'd never forget.

What he didn't know was that this was going to change me. This was one tiny step in letting him grow up and letting him spread his wings.

Before I know it he'll be grown, and I know how fast it goes because his big brother, my first baby, is on the cusp of manhood and reaching for new independence every day.

I don't know if I'm ready for this part of the ride, but I'm strapped in and holding on because before I know it we'll take off and I don't want to miss a second of the ride.

Today was a no good, horrible, very bad day around here. It started bad, got worse, and then went down hill.

Today was one of those special days when I look at my kids and realize that they are better human beings than I could ever have hopped to be.

My son was sitting at the kitchen table drawing endless super heroes and, while asking which one is my favorite I preferred. Soon we stumbled onto the idea of Halloween and ideal costumes. Now let me just say that I love a good costume and I grew up with some amazing ones, and the costumes now are even better!

So here we are, and my sweet boy is telling me about the different variations of clones and that he still wishes he could be a bad guy but that he gets it...and I have to drop a bomb that I just want to...a bomb that broke my heart.

"Sweetie I just don't know if we can really afford that one. And didn't you kinda have an Anakin costume last year?"

And my amazing little guy thinks for a few minutes and says "Yeah, I really like that one. I guess it would be cool if I just wore it again" and then switches into how we can accomplish a suitable costume for his little brother, offering up one of his favorite shirts and rushing to try it on his brother.

I was just so pleased that he was able to look past his slight disappointment to find utter joy in making his brother happy.

I know I wouldn't have done that when I was 10.

Sometimes, when my husband is home and my children are giggling it's just best if I don't ask questions. Dad's seem to find the most bizarre and, occasionally terrifying idea of fun.

Today though I couldn't help but step into the hall to investigate when I saw my oldest son streak by with a bottle of barbecue sauce. It's not so much that I wanted to know. More that I couldn't not know. What on earth could be happening in a hallway, with a condiment and all those giggles?

As I rounded the corner I couldn't hepl but let out a laugh myself. All my kids in a pile being tickled by Dad, unable to contain even a molecule of excitement and glee.

Apparently it wad dinner time and Daddy was having kid ribs, tickled to perfection. When he joked they should have sauce, my ever litteral 10 year old grabbed the bottle. Thank heavens it was new and yet unopened.

Soon there were little ones and not so little ones dog piling me and bringing me into the fray. And I though once again how different my life looked than I once imagined. How God had turned the dreams I spent so many years invested in, into something totally different. How He had brought me from a place where I never dreamed of even considering marriage an option until I was at least 30, where I had a firm limit of two kids at most, and certainly not before I hit 35, where I wasn't going to give up my identity for any man...to this.

Wife at 18, and birthing four beautiful and amazing children by the age of 33.

And my identity, not given up for a man, but created new and amazing in the light of the Son of Man.

I am so glad, so grateful that His plans do not always match our own. Even when His plans leave me a little baffled and confused. Even hurting a little.

I have found over and over again that when God promised me "the desires of my heart" (Psalm 37:4) that His intention was the whole Psalm... if I commit my mind to Him, commit to living a life walking and delighting in Him, he turns my heart to desire the great gifts he has for me.

Jesus, continue to mold me into the woman you want me to be that I will be inline to receive and recognize your blessings.

I wish I could say i am one of those amazing mom's who wakes up at 5am everyday, cheerily bounds out of bed to spend an hour in prayer, before cooking a four course breakfast for my family. But, I'm not.

I squeeze every second of sleep I can, generally waking to some sort of bickering or need to referee my kids, who have already eaten a nice healthy bowl of something akin to Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs.

This morning when I stumbled out of bed I heard giggling and water running. I was slightly afraid but still trying to pretend my day hadn't started. As I was just beginning to muster up the courage to enter the kitchen, water still running, I reminded myself to stay calm. That any damage was likely reversible or replaceable. Before I even made it to the halway, my daughter was beckoning me to "Come See" with a smile spread ear to ear.

When I got to the kitchen I saw why, my two oldest absolutly beamed with pride as they showed me the sink , empty of the dishes I had left overnight and the prunny fingers they had from washing.

As if that wasn't enough to bring about the perfect beginning of the day they sang me the song I had overheard amidst the giggles...

Son: Now that I've got my little buddy
Daughter: Doing dishes is less cruddy
Son: Now that I've got my little buddy
Daughter:All the dishes will be less muddy
Together: Now that we're using teamwork, teamwork
Now that we're using teamwork
The chores will be all done

I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

One of the best parts about being home with my kids is that we find these rare stolen moments that we might have missed between school and seat belts, car seats and snacks.

This morning, sitting bleary eyed at my desk, it was a typical slow Monday...I was heating up something for breakfast waiting for my mind to realize that my body was awake. Sitting curled up in my blanket, the edges fall to the floor to make a quite attractive tent for a three year old. Soon I was distracted by giggles from beneath my chair.

So I got down on the ground and curled up on the floor with my youngest, under the blanket "tent". We just laughed and smiled and talked. I think we spent a full half hour under there and by the time the excitement had finally passed the grin on my face nearly matched his.

I love those moments, even when we spend all day together they can still, sometimes get missed.

So when the tent had lost it's spark, and my blanket had been stolen for another adventure I sat and watched my three amazing kids and thanked God for every blessing He has given me.

And then I realized what that smell was...and got up to change a diaper.

I've been kicking around several ideas. A lot to post about. But I have been, well, exhausted.

I am equally exhausted today. I have been in a phase of some very difficult parenting. I've come to the conclusion that I have imparted a very important lesson to my children that has come to bite me in the fanny.

I know compliant kids. I know kids that know that when the parents get "that tone" they better obey or change their names. My kids...well...they aren't those kids.

My kids are painfully aware that their opinions on life and justice matter to me. Painfully. I am rarely left to wonder what they think of a particular chore or request. Seldom is their plan unknown to me. Or their reasoning.

In an effort to mold them into confident and assertive future grown-ups, I have molded confident and assertive kids.

This has been a strange week, a strange month really, so it's been a strange time to be recording so many of my thoughts.

I've been thinking a lot about my family. I have fallen in love and adore my family even more than I did even a year ago. I love them in a way I never knew was possible.

My oldest son amazes me a little more everyday as I see the great character that is developing in him. Just the other night he and I had a conversation that still brings pride filled tears to my eyes...

I casually mentioned my concerns over his growing fascination with the video games he gets to play at church. It's not that I think it's bad but it seems to occupy so many of his thoughts...when he, all on his own, recognized that it might be best to stop playing the games after his class so that he could spend more time focusing on what he had learned so it didn't slip away.

And then my sweet daughter, who unfairly carries the burden of being our only living daughter. She is sassy and difficult but so amazing. She has a will of iron and a love for her family, her God, and her friends that is unmatched. All she wants is to have relationship. She wants to give her whole heart to every friend. She wants to give gifts and give pieces of her self to everyone she loves. And with each piece what she has to give grows even more.

My youngest son is the one who makes everyone smile. He's the one that, even in mischief, brings a smile to everyone around him. Who stands at the door of his Sunday School class calling for Miss Wobin, knowing she'll show up and he can once again tell her about all the cars. The one who, when told he's loved, replys with "That makes me so happy." He sucks the marrow out of life and thinks just being alive is amazing.

And my daughter who has forever changed me but is now in the arms of Jesus. The privilege of being chosen as her mother can't even be put into words. I will forever be grateful...

Here I sit, a mother to four but my last pregnancy turbulent and my last baby at home in heaven rather than in her bassinet next to my bed.

I ask myself almost everyday if that bassinet is meant to stay empty? If this is the end of my birthing career? I honestly can't imagine what the answer might be. How do I even answer that? Do I use logic? Emotion? And who's logic or emotions do I use? If it's mine, which set of facts or feelings do I turn to?

I think this is contributing to some of my sadness. Just not knowing and not knowing how to know.

So I wait on God. I wait and force myself not to answer. I choose to trust, even when it hurts and it's uncomfortable, I am choosing to trust.

Well, my brain is chocked full of cluttered thoughts to share... none of which are fully formed thanks to lots of good sun and adult onset allergies.

Today I was at a local park, an old favorite from my childhood filled with tons and tons of wonderful memories. My kids were playing with friends, celebrating the birthday of one.

A regular afternoon when tragedy struck just a little too close...

A boy was missing. Not one of our boys, but a boy who was at the park with his grandfather and brother. Grandpa turned away for a second and his two and a half year old grandson was just...gone.

People from another birthday party fanned out. A few from our party...looking in trees, trashcans, bathrooms...scouring the adjacent neighborhood. Everyone seemed so calm in the midst of it, but I know that inside I was screaming.

I thought of the call to the parents, the guilt of the grandfather, of the brother who would always know they had been playing together. I made the connection to the boy being about the same age as my youngest boy. Inside I broke. Now I am sure the people with me reading this are thinking "Huh? She didn't seem all that invested actually." But inside I imagined losing another child and I just broke.

Within about 15 minutes the park was surrounded and swarming with police. It's been said before, but police in that city, they just don't mess around.

So we, at the party, gathered together and prayed. What more could we do? We didn't see the boy, there were probably 20-30 people already on foot...so we prayed.

When I spotted a mail truck I went to check with him, grateful for a few seconds alone just walking over. He'd seen nothing. But Thank You Jesus, while I was talking to the mailman, the boy was spotted just wandering a few streets over.

The police picked him up and brought him back to grandpa, we took him some water, and settled into a nice relaxing party. One where our own children were constantly counted and recounted...and told to stay just a little bit closer.

I keep saying I'm going to start going to bed earlier. That I'll shut off the TV, the lights, and the computer before 11pm and catch my full eight hours before any of my children are tapping me on the shoulder asking about breakfast or Super Mario Bros.

That I will do what's right and proper in Mommyland and be an early to bed, early to rise, Proverbs 31 woman.

The truth is, when I do manage an early bed time I am usually just called back out by the needs of one of my children in the middle of the night. So tonight as I debated an 11pm cup of coffee or bedtime my oldest son made the decision for me when I heard him stumble out of bed making a sound that breaks a mother's heart. The all to familiar sound of closing bronchi and my sweet baby struggling for breath.

I couldn't help but think how much I hate this for him. Hate to see him hurting for something so basic as air to breathe. It seems so unfair. Only, to him, it's just how things are. It's just a part of his life to need breathing treatments in the night. I am so glad for him that it's only "as needed" and not a part of everyday. If it were, however, he would just do it. He doesn't know any different and he doesn't really know he's being short changed.

If anything it's a special time for him. Awake in the quite, getting his back scratched and drinking hot cider after his treatment. A little time just he and I. For him, it's special.

I could learn a lot from my boy.