A Mother's Love

It has been argued that hormones are at the root of a mother's bond with her new born baby, that instinct plays a major role in how she cares for and nurtures her child. I am not a scientist, and though I don't necessarily disagree with these theories, they don't fully explain the power of a mother's love.

The world will tell you that four kids is a lot, maybe even too many.  There is talk of carbon footprints and over population.  Someone seriously asked me, "what are you going to do when you have a fourth kid?" to which I replied, "just feed him, clothe him and raise him", ya know, the usual.  I expect that the footprints my children leave on this earth will far outweigh their carbon ones.  Besides, there is no such thing as over population when the worth of souls is great in the sight of God. 

Anyway, nine weeks ago, I gave birth to my fourth child.  Yes, number four.  To some gals, adding a fourth child to the mix is just like riding a bike, been there done that, it's old hat.  Well, that hasn't been my experience; the fourth time around has been just as novel as the first.  The only thing that felt familiar to me was that moment when I saw my child for the first time, when I was introduced to the person who had taken up residence in my womb for nine months.  All the wonder and worry is answered.  It's that special moment when you realize that for some reason God Himself looked past your weakness and gave you a sweet baby.   

The day Winston Dash Weimer arrived felt just as sacred as the days child one, two, and three were born.  For a second, it feels like you're reaching into heaven to hold your child... but then he cries and you realize you'll never sleep again. 

I knew I would love our Winston, I loved him as soon as I knew he existed.  Well, maybe even before that when I kept feeling like someone was missing at our dinner table.  I would catch myself setting another plate or waiting in the driveway for someone else to get in the car, though we were all buckled in and accounted for. 

I guess you could say that Winston was a twinkle in my eye and it didn't have much to do with hormones or instinct.  It was just love.

And so it is. ..we are now a family of six, which we will stay... unless we get a dog and I  don't see that happening... because I have all these kids to take care of. 

I know that Winston won't be baby forever.  I will eventually stop nursing and swaddling and rocking him to sleep.  There will be a time when he won't need me every second, when those so called instincts and hormones won't be needed.  Then what... do I leave my young?  That is when mother's love will endure. 

The funny thing about going into labor with Winston was that before I left for the hospital, I was making my kids lunches for school and putting new laces in Noel's shoes.  I was breathing though contractions thinking, "these kids will never know what a sacrifice it was to make these PB&J sandwiches".    Though I literally had a baby on the way, I could not forget my other babies.  Dylan is 9, Noel is 7 and Prestyn is almost 5.  The amount of fingernails I have clipped, the bedtime songs I have sung, the tough love, soft love, pure love I have given, and the amount of mother's guilt I have felt is beyond instinct.

I'll be honest... I don't have all the answers.  I've never gotten to the point in motherhood when I feel like "I've got this".  Motherhood is akin to firefighting... except I think firefighters get to take naps.  That being said, I'm forever grateful for the opportunity to be in this labor of love.  The instincts are great, but when that fails, I know I have a greater power, a mother's love. 

'Til We Meet Again

 

My brother passed away this week. Robert Michael Peterson, or better known as Bobby, has moved on from this mortal life and we are left behind to grieve.  I'm not sure what is more difficult, losing my brother or watching my parents' hearts aching. 

Having an older brother is a gift, one that I am so grateful my girls get to experience.  My brother was just the kind of brother a girl needs in a pickle.  I knew even though I was at times a thorn in his side, if I needed anything he would be there.  Upon returning home in tears from grade school one day, my brother insisted I tell him about my plight.  I told him that on the bus home two boys were picking on me.  He told me not to worry about it.  What he really meant was that the next day he, as a junior high student, would stay after school and ride the bus home with me.  He sat right across from my harassers.  Let's just say the tables were turned and those boys never spoke an unkind word to me again.

Bobby was humble (I'm sure he still is).  He is unassuming, the kind of man that will not talk himself up even when he has something legitimate to brag about.  I believe he lived by the motto "judge not lest ye be judged."  Bob's the kind of guy you can shoot the breeze with.  Though private and modest, he is the kind of guy you want as a pal.  He is funny (really funny) and quick to take in a good joke.  He never spoke my name in a normal tone.  I'm not sure why, but it was never "hi Jill", it was "heey Jillyyyannnn". It always made me laugh and reminded me that I am in fact the little sister and to him that is how I would stay.

Something I love about my brother is that he never forgot about my dreams.  It's so funny, but almost every time we got together he would remind me that once upon a time I wanted to be a news anchor.  He would remind me that I am in fact not too old to follow my dreams and that he would assist me.  He wanted to help me make a demo to send to local news stations. He hated the idea that I wasn't fulfilling my dream.  He was so convincing.  I almost dusted off my old mission suit, and lights camera action we're live! He loved a good success story, people following their dreams and succeeding.  My brother followed his own dream of owning his own  trucking company and being his own boss.  I really look up to my brother for having the guts to pursue his dream. 

Truth be told, I have regrets, but it's not that I didn't become a news anchor, it's that I didn't call my brother every time I had a funny story or just to shoot the breeze more.  I know my brother doesn't begrudge me, he's just not that type of guy, but I want my brother to know that not only do I love him, but I truly admire him too.  Bobby, I admire you and I hope you can look at the joy you brought to our lives and take some time to admire yourself. 

Robert Michael is gone for a time, but I know that we will see him again and I can almost bet that he will greet us with a joke and for me a "well hey Jillyannnn".  Bobby, we love you and no amount of time will change that.  Dearest brother, God be with you until we meet again. 

Three

Happy Birthday to my No No.  I never want to forget what Noel is like at this age.  In my selfish motherhood, I truly do not want my girl to grow any more.  I love this age, I love that Noel bounces wherever she goes and sings freely.  I love how she says Pony, band aid, and Prestyn, and when she makes a suggestion she says “how bout”.  I love that her favorite book is Pinkalicious and that she only wants me to read the last page and that nothing makes her more angry than when her brothers spoils it. 

I have never worried about Noel.  From the minute she was born she was very clear about what she wanted.  Noel is determined and resourceful; she has a way of seamlessly getting what she wants.  Her tactic is to wear you down and she does it so well.  Tonight I put her to bed 20 times.  After she ruined my bath, woke her baby sister and mooched off my snack, I gave in.  “Fine, you can watch a show with me, but you have to sit still and be quiet” She agreed, but thought we should watch “Bo on the Go” while I tickled her arm.  As I sat there watching her show and tickling her arm, I thought “How did this happen?”  I wasn’t even mad, I was past that point.  When I finally put her to bed she said “Mommy, you’re the best girl” and that was it, I was glad I let her stay up with me because I know it was not lost on her. 

The reason I want to get this all down is because there may be a day that Noel will not grab her coat and sprint for the door when she hears someone leaving.  Someday she may not sob at the door when she can’t go with me.  She might even grow up to be uninterested in purses, necklaces and painted nails, but for now these things are treasures to her.  Corbet and I have an understanding that if we can take her whenever we go out, we do and if we can’t, we have a sneak out plan that involves the other parent luring her away with candy.  When she does get to go for a car ride she often brings her Hello Kitty purse with her Minnie Mouse stuffed inside. 

I almost always put her hair in pig tails just so I can see them bounce as she goes about her day. I know there will be a day when she doesn’t want pig tails or for me to lay with her while she falls asleep.  She won’t need me to read to her forever and she will eventually grow tired of singing to me. 

I know my No No has to grow up, but I want her to know that there are things she does not have to grow out of. Noel has a natural confidence and happiness that I pray she holds on to.  At three she already has a strength that has taken me a life time to build.  I watch her in wonder and know that she came to our family already made; who she is was decided before I even held her.  She is growing up and though I hate to see it happen, I love watching who she is becoming and I know it will be a beautiful journey. 

Happy Birthday my girl, oh how we love our No No. 

 

Merry Christmas from the Weimers

The Christmas Letter

I have always loved Christmas letters. However, I have never composed one until…Now!   What a wonderful thing to let our loved ones know what we have been up to and the blessings that have taken place in our lives.  I guess with facebook and my blog The Weimer’s are an open book so to speak, but I do want to take the opportunity to share our blessings and express gratitude to the Lord for such a wonderful year! 

In February we moved to Hermiston Oregon…we are slowly making our way across Eastern Oregon.  My husband accepted the challenge of working as a production supervisor at Shearers food.  He has a crazy schedule that includes, working nights, coming home to a rambunctious family, working on his master’s degree, playing with the kids, giving his wife a break then off to bed to start it all over again.  He works hard and can be found exhausted and yet cheerful.  He continues to follow his dream of writing a novel.

Our oldest son Dylan Chase (4) has been loving preschool.  He enjoys riding his bike, building legos and trying to save the Princess via Nintendo DS.  He likes rules and likes to enforce them- we call him our hall monitor because he keeps us all on our toes.  Dylan loves life and appreciates the details.  He is gentle and kind and we are so grateful for the example he sets for his sisters. 

Our daughter, Noel Lurie (3), is full of joy.  Noel does not walk she bounces.  Her passions include necklaces, purses and kitties.  Noel is very independent, she enjoys doing everything herself.  She gets herself dressed from head to toe and changes outfits many times during the day.  Her laundry pile surpasses us all.  “No No”, as we call her, loves books, singing and dancing.  Noel brings adventure and laughter to our lives.

Our Newest Arrival, Prestyn Jean (5 Months), is the best surprise of our lives!  Prestyn is such a sweet baby.  I know all baby’s are sweet, but let me just say we have been blessed with a baby that sleeps through the night, travels well, eats well and cry’s very little.  It sounds too good to be true and if I didn’t see her sweet smile and hear her little giggles so often, I wouldn’t believe it myself.  We were terrified to have our third baby, but she has made the transition smooth and her brother and sister adore her which makes it all so special. 

As for me, the wife, the mother, the maker of the home, I can say it has been a full year!  Looking back makes me smile.  We survived a move, a pincher bug infestation, a pregnancy, the terrible two’s, making new friends and losing a dear one.  Let’s just throw in losing some hair, gaining a few gray ones, enduring a couple flues, as well as kid swallowing a penny and we will call it good.  

The truth is the good always outweighs the bad.  Out of every challenge or heartache, we’ve always found a blessing to claim.  I cannot let this year go without thanking the Lord for his hand in our lives.  The Weimer’s have been richly blessed with love, babies, joy, opportunity, disappointment, growth and faith.

We send our prayer that this letter finds you well.  May the Lord bless you this Holiday season and may you recognize his hand in your lives.  How grateful we are for this season to remember His birth, His life and His sacrifice.  We truly do wish you a Merry Christmas.

The Weimers

Thirty One

Thirty One….what can I say, it looks a little different than I expected. Right now it looks like me sitting here in my pj’s with a soggy bowl of cereal. I’m not ungrateful; I just find it funny that this is actually what I want to be doing right now. For my Birthday my husband updated my computer and relieved me from any parenting duties which is what I wanted and, no joke, best gift ever! Now, we all know that I love my kids, but I love a good guilt free break. All requests have been diverted to the Dad! If I leave for five minutes, the second after I walk in the door my kids are all over me for something to drink. It’s like our house turns into the Mojave Desert when I leave. I’m not sure what my kids are wearing to bed or if their teeth were brushed, but who cares IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!
When I was younger I loved my birthday for different reasons. For instance, when I turned seven I got the Barbie of my dreams. It came with a curling Iron to do Barbie’s hair. When I was sixteen I got a car which was amazing. But then I got older and Birthday’s became about milestones. When I turned 18 I knew I would be graduating high school and leaving for college; for that Birthday the gift was adulthood and independence. When I turned 21 the gift was a mission call from my church to Florida. Then a few days before I turned 24, the gift was marriage. I married my best friends, which truly is my favorite birthday gift (besides the Sephora makeup kit he got me last year)!
Since I turned 28, my Birthdays have become a time of reflection, a time to check in with myself. It all started with the breakdown of twenty-ten. For some reason I got a little frantic on that Birthday, “ Ahh I’m twenty-eight and feel like I have accomplished nothing”. It turns out it was just me being my prego self and at the time we were living with my parents. So… let’s just say you don’t want to send out your Christmas cards with your patent’s return address.
I will admit that every year stings a little. I never thought I would care about getting older, but I do. I swear I never thought I’d get grey hair and not only do I have a few, but I found a grey eyebrow hair! Seriously… just check me into a home; the eyebrows are giving up, how they can do this to me!?
So thirty-one, the check in this year looks a little like this: Am I happy? Yes, I truly am happy. Do I have the love and support I want and need? Yes, I am truly blessed. Do I love myself (not to be confused with being in love with myself)? Yes, I can say that I do. Are there things I want to change about myself? Yes and those things I will work on privately, mostly because I have too much pride to tell you my vices. But in all seriousness, I am grateful to be thirty-one. To have lived on this earth, at this time, with the love of dear ones and dear ones to love is a gift. Truly, what more could I want?

My Favorite Love Story

I hesitated sharing this because of its personal nature and I am hoping that my gratitude does not come off as bragging because that is not my intention in any way. All are welcome to read, but keep in mind that I write this blog for three future readers… my children.

When I met my husband I knew in a way that it was sacred, that we were meant to be together. Love at first sight can’t touch the experience I had. Corbet and I met while serving a mission for our church. The first time I heard him speak, I knew he was unlike anyone I had ever met. Here was this tall man that looked somewhat intimidating until he opened his mouth and out came humility and kindness.
When one is serving a mission she is to lock her heart from any kind of romantic relationship and I did just that, but it became very apparent to me, through the Lord that Corbet held the key and in the right time he would unlock it. We only served together for six months and then it was time for Corbet to return home. We never served in the same area and probably only saw each other a handful of times. I am a logical person, for the most part, but when it came time to fall in love there was no logic involved. Our exchanges were always professional, the only physical contact we had was the occasional hand shake. We didn’t know where each other lived or even each other’s first name, yet I felt like I knew him.
To be honest, I really struggled with this. I didn’t want to fall in love this way. I had gone on a mission to forget myself and serve the Lord. The last thing I wanted was to be distracted. I was able and blessed to focus on the work I was doing, but anytime I saw “Elder Weimer” I was called back to this familiar feeling that he was my best friend. When we looked at each other it was not with romance, but with the feeling of home. Our handshakes were firm, maybe lasted a little longer than they should have, and though at that time is wasn’t s ever said, we were thinking how much we loved each other.
When Corbet left the mission to return home he told me he would write to me during the ten months I still had as a missionary. A few months passed and I had not heard from him and there was a part of me that was relieved. After all, I never wanted love in the mission field. The exact day that I had decided to put him behind me, I heard from him. We wrote letters every week for the rest of my mission. We learned all about each other through the simplicity of paper and pen. It brings me joy that I will be able to report to my children that their father and I fell in love with out a kiss, a hug or even holding hands, we fell in love with just our hearts. Before I knew that Corbet loved me I knew that he loved the Lord. Essentially, it was our love of the Lord that brought us together.
The bittersweet end to my mission came. I saw Corbet the weekend I returned home and we haven’t been apart since. To some we seemed an unlikely couple, but we knew that we were right where we were meant to be, with each other. We are coming up on our nine year anniversary and maybe that’s not a lot of time, but I am confident in our love. To be honest I didn’t think I would marry someone like my husband, I’m not sure I knew someone like him existed. I am so grateful that Father in Heaven knows better than me. He knew how well Corbet would take care of me. I have this feeling that when we were created he had us in mind for each other. He might have created me and then thought…hmm now I need to create a really patient, kind and relaxed man to go with this girl. In all seriousness, I just want to publicly thank God for my husband. He is truly my best friend and somehow he brings a calmness to my life that did not exist before I met him. How I adore the man that insists I sleep in, takes all three kids to the park to give me some alone time, the man that works all night then gets home and apologizes that I had to be up all night with the baby. He might be embarrassed that I am publicly praising him, but it has to be said, it has to be noted that we are blessed…blessed with love, trials, laughter, children, inside jokes, and a knowledge that something greater than ourselves brought us together and our hearts are eternally grateful. I love you Corbet, thank you for being you and nothing else.

First Day Bliss

Today was Dylan’s first day of pre-school and many tears were shed. However, they were not from us…

 Let me start off by saying I adore my first born; we have always been very close.  I have always felt so grateful for Dylan. We anticipated his arrival for years and were so excited when he decided to take us on.  He was the BEST baby.  He made motherhood such a joy and the transition into parenthood easy.  Dylan is sweet, smart and funny.  He is, in fact, responsible and for the most part well behaved… that being said, he is driving me nuts! 

Since he finished 3 year old pre-school last May, he has been begging to go back.  We have tried to keep him distracted with parks, water parks, story time, bike rides and back yard water toys, but nothing has taken his mind off of school.  Almost every day this summer he has asked me if he gets to go to school “tomorrow”.   I am grateful he loves school but, early in the summer I started wishing school was all year around. 

It hasn’t just been his constant begging to return to school that has worn me out; in general, it is him being 4.  Noel hit the two year mark hard and fast and this has been her toughest age so far.  She is coming out of the twos beautifully and I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.  Dylan being four has been his toughest age.  However, I will be fare and say that we have had a lot of changes this year.  We moved, I started babysitting, we switched ward’s a few times (LDS church congregations), Dylan started school, I stopped babysitting and we had a baby.  I think that could be cause for a kid to act out and yet still my patience is thin. 

I will be honest and admit it’s not all Dylan.  I am exhausted and it seems the less energy I have the more he has.  I have stated on this blog that I am not a morning person.  I try with all my might to greet my children with a smile in the mornings, but Dylan sometimes gets a frown simply because he is very loud in the morning.  My mornings go a little something like this:  First off I have been up for the greater portion of the night nursing the unquenchable thirst of a six week old.  She gained 2.5 pounds in two weeks…just to give you a visual.  At just about 5:30, when I get the said baby fed enough and back to sleep, my first born comes into my room declaring loudly that “The sun woke up and it’s time for us to get out of bed”.  By us he means me.  He then will not leave my room and makes a lot of racket until I get out of bed, which I do without yelling because I don’t want to wake up my little emotional eater.

It is at 5:30 every morning that he wants pancakes.  Not cereal, not toast, not oatmeal, not anything but homemade pancakes.  He is so happy in the morning that he has no other way to express it other than by running across the hardwood floors and telling me all the things we are going to do.  His list is as follows: Ride bikes, go to the splash pad, see his friend Raine, go to school, eat hot dogs and go to the store to buy him a new car. “Bikes yes, splash pad maybe and everything else not today” is my usual response.  As the day gets going he gets cuter, but in the morning I just hear noise. 

This summer Dylan stopped taking naps (though we had a good run), discovered his love for leggos, hot dogs and ice cream.  Dylan has enforced the rules that we are not allowed to say hate or yell in the house.  (Note to self, don’t make rules you can’t follow) and he has learned that singing church songs isn’t so bad after all.  Dylan has grown and I know he will grow even more under the direction of Miss Tess, his new teacher.  For the most part, the reason I could not shed a tear this morning is due to the fact that I am excited for Dylan.  I am happy to see his love for school and for him to get his wish to go back.  He still looks so small to me and the image of him walking into school with his oversized looking backpack on his little back still hasn’t sunk in.  As ready as I was for him to go back to school, there was a bit of sadness, but I got over that when Noel burst into tears declaring that she wanted to go to school and insisting that she go “tomorrow”. 

First Day!

 Dylan & Raine

 "I want to go to school".