the books I wrote

wrote

Some of you know that I have written and Illustrated children’s books over the years.
Some of you don’t know that.

I haven’t sold very many books at all, so it’s most likely that most of you reading this don’t know about my books.

I started writing and drawing the stories when my first two were little.  I don’t remember exactly how but I got in touch with a publisher who charged me a lot of money to publish my first 3 books. Well, actually my wonderful father in law paid for the publishing. The publisher though wasn’t an honest one and she really didn’t know what she was doing. The first copies she sent us looked terrible. The images were all out of shape and it was severely disappointing.

So, my wonderful husband used the really old version of Photoshop to fix my books, we then paid to print them as well, and went to the publisher’s office and physically printed them out and put the books together ourselves….we never got the money back because she insisted that it was just to cover the ISBN#....wich is actually very cheap or even free. But, I was young and didn’t know any better.

I was over the moon having my own children’s books in print.

Eventually after learning the publisher was actually stealing from me (I was drawing for other writers as well but she was stealing my payments as well as selling my books without paying royalties) I pulled my books from her “store” and went in search of another publisher. Those first three are no longer in print.

I had done art work for several other writers, one I still keep in contact with and she has become a good friend and mentor for me. Her character Marcie Mouse is such a dear thing to my heart. I’ve done several Marcie related things over the past 11 years, but most of them have been recently.

Several years later I found Publish America (now called America Star Books) and published at no cost! I was thrilled. But, once again I was taken advantage of. Yes, they printed a copy of my book for free, but I lost my rights to my work for 7 years and couldn’t print copies of it to sell. None of my family could buy the book either because the list price was SO high. 

Fuzzy Bacon was about 3 boy kittens who learned how to be good Samaritans.  This one was written by both me and my husband together. We had high hopes about it, but we literally only sold ONE copy—to his mom.

After the 7 years passed I was excited to get my book rights back….because I had finally found a good solution to my publishing problem.

Amazon CreateSpace.

I first found it when my (then) 4 year old told me a story of a dream he had that was so detailed he insisted it was real. So, I wrote it down and drew it out for him. I searched for publishing and came across Amazon. At the time it was a brand new concept and it didn’t work very well, but for less than $20 I was able to publish and print his book.

It’s still available on Amazon both in the original version and the “updated” one I did last year when I found that the CreateSpace program had vastly improved.

Last year I found some of my old stories and decided it was time to give it a try again. I republished some  of my work that had been done previously

God’s Kids 1 has all the original stories that I published years ago in it. The next two have stories I wrote and drew but never published back in the early days of my kids when the first 3 were babies. There are also some stories I wrote for other families in there.

God’s Kids 4 and 5 have stories I wrote back then but then updated to include my other 4 children and a few brand new ones that I wrote just for them. I updated my drawing style too instead of coloring it with pencil and crayon (that gave it a very child like look that I liked a lot years ago) I used Photoshop for coloring to give it a more updated cleaner look.

Each book has between 9 and 11 stories in them making them pretty thick books.

Then, I asked my kids to come up with stories or ideas for stories. I then wrote them (or helped them write them) and drew them out and published them on Amazon.

My oldest “Mr Responsibility” LOVES cats. His stories centered around him and a magical cat that turned him into a little orange kitten in the first book Catland Adventure. His second story Nuggles and the Flying Kitten was about the same magical kitten and his “wife” the flying kitten Kes.

Ninja loves spiders. Both his stories take place in the same magical kingdom of Manitory that he invented in his first story My Princess Warrior.

Spider Kings and Bobert the Metal Spider were both about a kingdom of spiders with superpowers.

Hedgehog of course wanted to write about hedgehogs.

In his first story Dancing Hedgehog a tiny Hedgehog named Ronan loves to dance and finds a human who shares his passion. In Hedgehog Falls in Love Ronan the dancing hedgehog meets and marries a girl hedgehog.

Kabuki Warrior couldn’t come up with a story on his own beings he can’t talk so the story books I made for him were based on his life. Zork Visits Earth is my take on how he perceives the world. Basically the alien in the story is much like a child with special needs who can’t understand the world. Everything he sees seems upside-down and backwards to him like a whole new culture. 

Different Means Blessed was written before we had a diagnosis. It was about his life, thru his own “voice” telling other kids that even though he’s different there’s nothing to be afraid of. It has an overview of much of what he had been thru up till that point and how God can use special needs for something amazing.

Taters wanted to write a story about the game we played together called Dripping Soup. His second story was Super Dog from Outer Space. The dog has to fight and defeat the evil cat overlord to save his planet and his humans.

When I asked Princess what she would like her story to be about she just said “Pink. I want a pink story.” So, Pinkalena Princess Pie , the story of a princess who loves pink came to be.  Then her second story was about a game we play and the pink princess. Pinkalena and the Roars is about the pink princess who falls in love with the purple fuzz balls that everyone else is afraid of.

Squishy was just an infant when I started these so he didn’t really have any input in these stories at all. The Giant’s Taco Shell was really the combined ideas of several of the children and Shepherds Blankie  was about a little shepherd who gave his blankie to baby Jesus.

The Smallest Hero was a book I wrote for a dear friend of mine’s son Leo Lagana. He’s the smallest human being in Australia and he was about to go into brain surgery. The poor kid LOVES super heroes so I made him his very own book where he battled Branyrism and won, saving not just his family but the whole world. I was so happy to send him a copy and know that it lifted his spirits. His brain surgery was successful, but recovery was rough. Pray for him dear readers, his health continues to be in flux.

Letter from Heaven is dear to my heart. This one was published twice as well. It was written for a young mom I knew who lost her baby far too young. The story follows the little boy in heaven as he plays with Jesus and other children who died young. He’s writing a letter back to his mom and dad on earth to tell them that he’s happy, loved and safe. He tells his parents not to worry, that he’s watching over them every day.

Grandpa’s Hands was inspired by my husband’s grandfather. He was nearly 90 when I wrote it. He was towards the end of his life and the children would climb on his lap and trace the lines on his hands. I wrote this story and poem (in the back of the book) before he passed away, but it was so emotional that couldn’t publish it until several years later.

Little Pie Angel is a story about my niece. When she was young she always wanted to make pies with me, then when she found herself in some dark times I wrote this as a way to reach out to her.

This one is just a book of my artwork. I’ve done many drawings over the years of my children and scanned them into my computer. Sadly the printing doesn’t look nearly as nice as the actual drawing in real life but I wanted a place to have all my work (to that point) in one place for the kids to look at without destroying the actual drawings.

Another one of my nieces asked me to draw for her. She wrote a story about a horse named Gypsy and I helped her publish it. the artwork is mine, but the story is all hers. She was 9 years old when she wrote this.

All of my books are available on Amazon.com they retail for about $10 each except the art book and God’s Kids series.

I did try to sell some locally. We printed a bunch of each book and sold them at Bay Days our local celebration in July. We sold most of the books, but didn’t make any money off of it. I haven’t sold very many online either but now that doesn’t matter to me anymore. I made these for my kids and because it was a dream of mine.

I’m so grateful that God allowed me to do this with and for my kids.

my experiance with anxiety

Today I want to write about my experience with Anxiety. Anxiety affects millions of people but each person affected thinks they are totally alone.

I recently learned that one of my dear friends is dealing with some serious Anxiety issues, so I’m writing about my experience in the hopes that she will read this and it will help her to know that she’s not alone.
My first anxiety attack happened when I was bout ten or so, I don’t remember exactly but it was shortly after I had learned a few cuss words. My brain told me that if I cussed I would become a bad person and I became afraid of those words. I couldn’t stand to hear them because I thought that they would get into my head and poison me. Then I began having cycling thoughts about swear words. The worst part was when I became afraid if I cussed in my thoughts that God would punish me.  Oh yes this all sound so illogical now, but to me as a 10 year old it was terrifying. There was nights I would stay up and whisper to myself to keep the cuss words  from entering my head….but as anyone knows the harder you try to NOT think about something the more you actually focus on it.  Eventually I started having issues at school and my guidance counselor talked to me. I never did tell her what was bothering me, but she had told me I needed to face my fears and “talk back to “ the anxiety.  So, to put that to a test I sat in the bathroom alone one day and cussed out loud. I didn’t die. God didn’t disown me.  I probably would have gotten in trouble if I had cussed a little louder but that anxiety level peaked and then faded away. After a few more bathroom cussing sessions that fear went away.
The next time I was about 15 or 16. My grandma had just died and she had been such a close friend of mine I kind of lost it. this was by far the worst time in my anxiety history. I got it in my head that God would abandon me if I wasn’t perfect. Then I read a Bible verse about an unforgiveable sin, and  I didn’t understand it. (The truly only unforgiveable sin is denying Jesus so hard that your heart is beyond redemption for without Jesus there can be no salvation) but  I didn’t understand that then. I had panic attacks nearly hourly, and I started doing the whispering and creating behaviors that I thought would make me feel better. Tapping things, touching walls, clicking switches….oh yea I was full on OCD at that point. I lived like this for several months unsure of what to do. My friends started to notice, my sister noticed. Then I started thinking that if I thought the wrong thing not only would God disown me but I would spontaneously combust into a firey inferno and die.
Every night I would struggle to sleep. I would clutch my Bible crying and apologizing for any bad thoughts I might have had. I developed a cycle of thoughts that is still sometimes with me even today almost 16 years later. I would fill my thoughts with things that were “good” thoughts and if that weren’t enough I would repeat those thoughts outloud  over and over and over. Usually in hushed whisper tones as I was in school most of the day and I was trying my best to hide my weirdness. I talked to my pastor, he couldn’t help me. I wrote down what that Bible verse really meant and tons of verses that talked about God’s unconditional love but it wasn’t enough. Something inside me was deeply broken and I could see no way out. At one point I just prayed for death.
Then, I finally found some help. I was on anxiety medication for about 2 years. I saw a counselor and she helped me to relax, accept the fact that I was not crazy but what I was going thru was grief induced anxiety. She encouraged me to write about my feelings about Grandma’s passing away. The one thing I never shared with her was the cycle of thoughts and fears. She did tell me that I would never get better unless I could face my fears.
You see, the human body can only stand so much anxiety. But you don’t die when the anxiety peaks, instead if you face it and see it thru, confront the very thing causing you anxiety than after the peak it starts to fade. You MUST do this again and again until it no longer phases you. If you don’t, if you just let the anxiety build and then run from it than it will take over your life until you can no longer function.
It’s sad but true. My own mother has anxiety. She refuses help. Over the years she’s gotten worse and worse until she now hardly leaves her house. She is only a few hours from me but a few months ago told me that because her fears are to great she doesn’t want to see me. She refuses to face those fears inorder to have a relationship with her daughter and her grandchildren and prefers to live in the bubble that she’s deemed “safe”  it’s heartbreaking. But there’s nothing I can do unless she’s willing to fight back to the anxiety it will continue to rule her life. Personally, I refuse to live that way.
I knew I needed something to change with my own anxiety. I wanted to have a family and I knew that this mess was going to hold me back. It was scary, I thought I was going to die. But slowly I started confronting the anxiety. When I didn’t die in a firey death the instant I thought something “bad” the anxiety lessened. Oh it wasn’t easy road that’s for sure. The medication helped but I didn’t want to be on medication forever, so I kept working at it and started to wean myself off of the meds.
By the time I left for college I was only taking one pill every week. I didn’t realize that wasn’t enough to do ANYTHING for my anxiety but I thought it did. It was kind of like a crutch.  My cycle of thoughts had settled down and I was living a more normal life. My boyfriend at the time (now my husband) helped me a lot. His very presence calmed me. He’s always had a way with words and showing me reality and how silly those fears were with out being condescending or pushy. He just held me thru it.
We got married in 2003, at that point  he encouraged me to throw away the last bottle of anxiety medication I had. I hadn’t taken it in months but I held onto it “just in case”. It was hard for me to drop that bottle in the trash, I feared that the anxiety would come back. It did, but not to the same extent. This time I knew how to deal with it.
I had a lot of anxiety when my first child was born. Anyone who knew me could tell you I was a mess. I was so afraid that I was going to damage him emotionally or something that I literally never set him down. He didn’t walk till he was 16 months because I held him all the time. I was so afraid that he wasn’t getting enough milk from nursing that I gave him a bottle and ended up pumping milk for him for many months because I had to “see” how much he was eating. I was so afraid that he’d need something and I wouldn’t have it on hand that I carried this HUGE duffel bag around with me with almost everything he owned in it every where I went. Ironically having a second baby calmed me down a lot.
When I turned 29 I had anxiety about turning 30. I worried that I would suddenly become ugly or that my husband wouldn’t want me anymore. I went a little nuts and dyed my hair pink in effort to look younger. My husband just kind of laughed, and supported me thru my anxiety. It was short lived, after a month or two of pink hair I realized how silly I was being and settled down.
I grew into my role as mom and it became my identity. Now that my husband doesn’t want to have any more babies I’ve had to face my anxiety once again.  When he announced that he is planning on “taking care of the problem” (meaning the doctor appointment that I’ve dreaded for a long time) I had a break down. I cried for three days. He kept asking me if I really wanted more babies that badly but the truth is I don’t. I don’t really want to keep going thru pregnancy and having more little ones---7 kids is a lot to take on, especially when one has such severe special needs. But I’m afraid of what comes next.  I didn’t realize that was what my issue was until talking to a friend of mine but I’ve lost sight of who “I” am  apart from my role as mom. I became afraid that with out little ones I would basically be worthless. However, once I realized what was actually causing my emotional reaction I was able to face it and talk back to it. I now have peace about being “done” and I’m actually looking forward to the next stage of life.
You see, it gets easier to face the anxiety the more you do it.
Anxiety affects millions of people. Most of the time the fears we have are completely irrational. They seem so real to us though. One thing I have learned is fear itself isn’t real. No matter what I’m afraid of the fear isn’t going to kill me. the fear isn’t a huge beast about to eat me and it isnt’ anything physical. Fear is not real. Fear is all in my head. Talking back to the fear, to the anxiety is the only way to make it go away.
Oh sure, it can feel like your going to die. But you aren’t. it can feel like you can’t face it but you can.  It can truly feel like you have to obey the anxiety and avoid anything that triggers it, but if you do that you will end up alone afraid to leave your home and that’s no way to live.
My friend, there are so many people that love you. So many people that want to help. You are stronger than you realize.
I’ve always admired you. Did you know that? You’ve faced some difficulties in life that no one should have to. You’ve faced some terrible disappointments. But you have handled it with grace and poise. I can’t imagine the grief in your heart, but it tears at my heart to know how much you are hurting. I have so long wanted to help you, to be closer to you and help you in your pain, but you’ve held me at a distance much of this time. I only hope that going public with my own experience with anxiety will encourage you that you are not alone, you CAN do this, you CAN face this, you CAN get over this and get better. You are an amazing woman, you CAN beat this.
YOU ARE LOVED.
Just as you are. The things you have faced do not make you “less than” anyone else. You are exactly perfect the way you are. You have a heart of gold  and everyone around you can see how kind you are to animals and to people.
We can help if you let us.
I pray for you every single day. I always have. Since the day we met I’ve prayed for you. Knowing your hurting I cry for you as well. Please remember dear friend, you are NOT alone.

Until next time,
Sonya Lillis

breastfeeding journey

Over the last 12 years I have birthed 7 children. I’ve been pregnant 8 times. I’ve been breastfeeding in some form or another for most of 12 years.

Each child was different.

Mr. Responsibility didn’t nurse well when he was young, so I leaned on my trusty pump to provide him milk until he eventually learned how to nurse. He was an older baby so I faced a lot of criticism for allowing him to nurse at that point, but I didn’t care. I wanted to give him that liquid gold that is breastmilk. He was weaned when he was 2 ½, about the time I became pregnant with #3.  

I still remember how he would grab his blankie and jump up on the couch grunting to be nursed.  When I couldn’t nurse him he would “nurse” his baby doll.  How did the time go by so fast?

Ninja had a difficult start to life, he was born 4 weeks premature. He was big enough to go home from the hospital but had difficulty nursing and staying awake. The first two months were DIFFICULT. But this time I was determined. I didn't let him have a bottle at all, instead when he had trouble nursing I fed him with a little squishy cup thing or a dropper. I pumped milk constantly to make sure I had enough and nursed him around the clock.  Within a few months he was nursing like a pro and I was tandem nursing my two boys.

Sometime between Ninja’s birth and becoming pregnant with Hedgehog I had an early miscarriage. Being able to breastfeed both my boys during that time really helped me to heal.

Several months later I became pregnant with Hedgehog and weaned Mr. Responsibility. I continued nursing Ninja until just after Hedgehog was born. Ninja started biting me every time the new baby cried so that was the end of that....

Hedgehog was a nursing pro from day one. He took to it better than any of the other kids did. He had no latch problems, nothing. Nursing him was a breeze. Nursing him thru Kabuki Warrior's illness helped him alot with the huge transition we went thru. Hedgehog was only 15 months old when Kabuki Warrior was born and I had to be away alot to be in the hospital with him. Hedgehog really needed that extra nursing time. He nursed till he was nearly 3. By that time Kabuki Warrior was 9 months old.  

Kabuki Warrior could never nurse. Born with a swallowing disorder and the inability to suck we tried for several weeks while in the NICU and finally gave into a bottle. Even the bottle he couldn’t handle and after getting pneumonia several times he was given a permanent feeding tube. Once again I found myself pumping out milk every 2 hours to pour into his feeding pump and slowly drip into his feeding tube. Poor kid never could swallow anything by mouth (and still can’t) but I made sure he got the milk he needed.

When I finally weaned Hedgehog my milk dried up from stress so I had a “break” for about 15 months until Taters was born.

Taters was a good nurser. With him I experienced thrush for the first time. He was three months old and we treated it with that purple stuff….

Taters nursed thru pregnancy with Princess. They were the cutest tandem nurslings I’ve had. Taters would hold Princess’s hand and touch her face while they nursed together

.Taters never wanted to wean, but when he was 3 ½ I finally had to. He just got to big for it. Weaning was difficult, and emotional. He cried for weeks and I felt horrible telling him no more mama milk.

Princess took to nursing pretty well. I worried that it would be different with her because she was a girl, I thought she might be more of a Daddy’s girl and not want to nurse as long. I was wrong though, she nursed the longest of any of the kids. She was also very talkative. At just one year old she could say full sentences. Her first word was her own name. Taking her out in public was interesting because my tiny one year old would stand up in the shopping cart and yell “I need my BOOBIE milk NOW!” when she was hungry. I got some strange looks for that.

Princess nursed thru pregnancy with Squishy. She nursed to 3 ½ years, slightly longer than Taters did.  She did not want to wean either. It took several months because she would cry all night long if I didn’t nurse her. Finally last winter when Kabuki Warrior was in the hospital for 3 days we convinced her that the doctors took away all the “Princess milk” and all that was left was Squishy’s milk. That seemed enough of an answer for her and she stopped asking to be nursed.

Squishy is my last nursling. He’s currently 17 months old. He had a rough start, he didn’t latch well and he was the first child to make me bleed and blister. Nursing him was PAINFUL for the first 3 months. Then, when he started teething I almost gave up. He bit me so often I started to dread nursing. Just as I was at my breaking point he stopped biting. Nursing has been a lot better since then, but it hasn’t been easy. When he’s tired nursing goes well, when he’s not….well have you ever heard of niplash? Let’s just say it’s pretty painful.

My body is tired, after nursing for so long my shoulders and back can’t take the weight of the milk jugs I carry with me everywhere. I’ve had mastitis 15 times in the course of 12 years. That infection can rip thru me faster than anything, the last time I got it within 3 hours I was nearly delirious.

I know that my breastfeeding journey is coming to an end soon.

It’s strange to think about. I’ve been doing this for so long, physically it’s going to be hard to stop. I’ve always had the problem of over production. I’ve always had to pump out the over abundance to prevent infection in the early months of nursing each new baby. At one point I had two freezers full of milk and there were no milk banks that took it so I thawed it out and dumped it all into my bathtub. I literally filled up the tub with milk because it was so thick that it plugged up the tub!

I did have the chance to donate hundreds maybe even thousands of ounces of breast-milk to babies in need over the years.

Emotionally I am having a hard time coming to grips with letting this go. I know I don’t have to wean just yet but it is coming soon, in the next year or so, and then it will be gone forever.

My back will be grateful. My shoulders might actually not hurt for the first time in forever. My body will be “just mine” again. I won’t suffer with mastitis anymore, or have any more bite marks. I won’t have leaky spots on my shirt or be exposed in public. (I really hate nursing in public. I do it because baby needs to eat.)

But there’s something to be said about that closeness between mother and baby that starts to change after weaning.  THAT’S what I’m going to miss.  I have to admit, I have enjoyed being the center of my children’s lives when they were babies. Once they are weaned, that’s the beginning of the end of that.

Oh sure, I play a central role in their lives till they are adults and even then I will be important to them but it’s not the same.  Someday Mommy’s kisses won’t solve everything; I won’t be able to fix their problems by snuggling them in my arms. I won’t always be the one they look to.  Weaning is saying goodbye to babyhood forever. Once that’s gone you can’t get it back.

I know that everything changes. I know that life must change. I wouldn’t keep nursing my children beyond toddlerhood or anything like that, but oh how I’m going to miss these baby days. The days when my little one looks up at me with his deep brown eyes and coos at me holding his tiny hand to my face while nursing him to sleep. The nights where Squishy insists that I hold his feet with one hand while he nurses half awake and half dreaming.  The time where Mommy was the only person who could calm the crying baby.

I’m going to miss that.

It tears a hole in my heart.

And yet, to know that I’ve done this for my children is a blessing. To know that I’ve given my body for them to live in then sustained them with my milk and that God has allowed me to do so for so long is a blessing. What an amazing thing God has let me take part in!

I hope that some memory of the snuggle time we’ve shared remains with the children as they age. I hope they remember that comfort and love and the sacrifice I’ve made for them. But even if they don’t remember it I will.  Even when they are grown men and women (well woman, there is only one girl after all) I will remember holding them, rocking them, comforting them and nursing them. Feeding them the way God designed.

I’ve always loved this Bible verse:

Isiah 66:10-13

Be glad for Jerusalem and rejoice over her, all who love her rejoice greatly with her, all who mourn over her—so that you may nurse and be satisfied from her comforting breast and drink deeply and delight yourself from her glorious breasts.  For this is what the Lord says: I will make peace flow to her like a river, and wealth of nations like a flood; you will nurse and be carried on her hip and bounced on her lap. As a mother comforts her son, so I will comfort you, and you will be comforted in Jerusalem.

Breast-milk is truly a wonderful thing. God created it for us to feed our babies. God even likens His own word to breast-milk

1 Peter 2:2 As newborn babes, desire the sincere milk of the word that you may grow thereby onto salvation.

Pretty cool huh?

I really am going to miss these days.

Not very many people know of my childhood.
It was a very dark time, full of abuse and neglect. As a child, I never felt loved, protected or cherished….except for when I read the Word of God.

I learned to read at a very early age and I had a KJV Bible that my Catholic Grandmother had given me. That Bible was quite literally my salvation. I would hide in my closet while the darkness raged outside and huddle together with my younger siblings reading the Bible to them. I “mothered” them thru our early years until we eventually grew apart in our “every man for himself” kind of world. In those days I would still take refuge in my closet alone with my Bible and my journal and write out prayers for the future.

I saw little hope of saving the situation I was in, but the future….my adulthood….that could be saved.

So I prayed.

I prayed for the family I wanted. A husband who would love the Lord and care for me like he should. In-laws that would be good parents to him, a good childhood for him. I would pray for my future children that they might never know the pain and fear that I knew. I prayed for their faith, their comfort, that they would always feel completely and totally loved. I promised God that if He would give me the family I wanted I would give my all to make sure that my children were loved completely, lacking nothing emotionally or physically.

God answered those prayers. God has redeemed in me all that was lost before. My life now is full of joy and love. My spirit has peace because I am able to give my children the love I never had. I am able thru God’s grace to shower these little ones with God’s unending love and although I am not perfect I am able to give all that I am to raise up these little ones redeeming my own pain thru serving my little ones.

God answered my prayers for my husband as well. I started praying for him many years before we ever met, I never knew who he was but I knew that God knew and so I would pray for him each day. I prayed that he might have joy, safety, love and peace. I prayed for his parents that they might be good people and care for their son in ways the Bible described but I had never seen in real life.

“Dad-Man” my husband had a wonderful childhood. When he talks of his growing up years there’s always a smile on his face. He and his parents are very close, and I’ve had the wonderful privilege of not only marrying him, but becoming part of his family. His parents took me in and “raised” me in so many ways. They taught me what family should look like, and helped me heal. They didn’t realize they were teaching me, they didn’t know how much I needed their love, but they were there none the less. In so many ways my in-laws are more “my parents” than my real parents ever were.

Oh don’t get me wrong, I love my real parents very much. I pray for them every day. They are both so lost in their own pain that they can’t seem to keep their head above water long enough to notice the pain they cause to other people. My mother lives in fear of everything, hides herself and refuses to even so much as visit me because she’s afraid of her anxiety. My father drowns his internal pain with drugs and drinking. He knows it’s destroying him, yet he doesn’t want to get better. At one point, he actually said I should be thankful for him abandoning me as a child….he just can’t seem to admit that he did wrong. It’s heartbreaking watching my parents still go around the same circles never getting any better. Today I no longer look at them thru a hurting child’s eyes, but thru the eyes of an adult who has experienced healing from past pain and all I see is two people who are so lost. So very very lost.

But, on the day I got married I was still very much a hurting child. My in-laws couldn’t have known all the pain in my heart and my husband knew, but didn’t know how to help me. Still, I knew that Jesus would heal me in time. He promised me, back when I was in my closet crying my heart out to God I would feel the loving arms of Jesus wrapping around me, holding me close. I literally felt like I was being held. I knew God would heal me, someday.

Over the years I’ve learned to express my feelings about my past and learned how to fit into the role of a daughter both to my in-laws and to my own parents. I’ve learned how to be a good wife to my amazing husband and I’ve learned how to be a loving mom.
My children have never known that kind of darkness, and they never will. I will protect them and love them to my last breath.
My 10 year old said to me the other day “Mom you’re the best mom in the whole wide world. Seriously, all my friends wish they had a mom like you.”

People tell me all the time how “well adjusted, responsible and loving” my kids are. I believe that it truly comes from the fact that they know they are truly LOVED. No matter what they do, no matter how much they might mess things up they are always 100% loved. I’m not at all afraid to apologize if I make a mistake with my children. I expect them to respect others and treat others with the same generous love they are given at home. I expect them to be responsible and complete their homework and chores…..and I expect them to have FUN.
I try to make each moment count, because I know there are only 18 years each until they are grown and gone. If I mess up their childhood there is no “reset” button, no fixing it in the future. I got this one shot to do it “right” and make sure my kids grow up with a solid foundation. Every day brings me to my knees in thankfulness and prayer. Each day I pray for guidance to lead these little ones in the way God would have me to. I try to fill our days with scripture and lessons for the future, praying over them, praying with them for their future.
I’ve taught them to pray for their future spouses and children, to pray for their own heart attitude as they grow into adulthood. And to pray for me and their Daddy that we do a God-honoring job of raising them right.
We play with our kids every day, picnics and outdoor games when it’s nice, and indoor games when the weather is bad. Our house is full of laughter and joy.
When we do have to discipline our children it’s done with love and after it’s over there’s cuddles and scripture explaining why what they did was wrong and how to do it better the next time.

God has redeemed. God has made me whole and in so doing allowed me to hold these little ones in my heart, and bring them up to Him as well.  I’m at a point in my life where the darkness can no longer touch me. The darkness from the past stays in the past. God has used that darkness to make it into light. He has taken my pain and turned it into something amazing.

Romans 8:28  And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Until next time,
Sonya
            

Taters thinks he’s a robot.
No, he believes he’s a robot. With his whole heart.

A few weeks ago, he informed me that he was actually a robot and had always been a robot. He said “You know, when I was in your belly I was plugged in to you with a cord in my tummy. You told me that. That means I was charging.”
He insists that he can fly (when jumping off my couch) because he has rockets in his feet that only his robot eyes can see. He also says that he’s going SUPER SPEED when he’s running.
I asked him why does he have to eat if he is a robot so he responded ,” Because, I am LIKE a human but I’m not a real human.”

Ahh the wonderful imagination of a 5 year old!

When the three older kids were little they LIVED in their super hero outfits. Handmade of course. The rag-tag things I sewed for them certainly didn’t look flashy like the store bought variety but oh they loved it. They felt on top of the world in their capes. Even better when a few years later their Grandma made them their own custom super hero outfits out of a silky colorful material. (we still have those)

Ninja had such an active imagination when he was four he told me a story with such detail, I wrote it down and published it. (it’s on Amazon, search My Warrior Princess) He really thought that a super hero princess was coming to his room at night to take him to a magical land called Manitory.

Hedgehog believed that he was going to marry a pink hedgehog named Amy and she would give birth to ten babies at a time in their car. (Taters was born in our van when Hedgehog was 3 ½ years old)

Mr. Responsible wanted to be Bob the tomato. Or a cat. Now at age 11 he still wishes to be a cat. (for those who remember me at his age….yes he IS a boy version of me. that’s a story for another time….)

Then there was the time that the three bigger boys wanted to dress up as Grandpa for halloween. We shaved the top of their hair and they were thrilled! Grandpa got such a kick out of it. The boys keep their hair like that for nearly a month!

The kids love to play with each other. Usually they get along pretty well.

I love playing with my kids. Especially the little ones. Over the years they have each come up with games of their own design, but by far the most popular one that has stuck with the kids ever since Mr. Responsible was 2 years old is the “Dripping Soup” game. (I wrote a children’s story book about it)

The children lay on a bed or couch pretending to be ingredients for soup. Mushrooms, potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, chicken, noodles….whatever their fancy is that day. I play the role of the Chef. I make them all tenderized (tickling their tummies) and then put them in the “pot” (the bed or couch) and they make bubbling noises to indicate that they are cooking. Then the “Chef” falls asleep (not really) and the dripping soup runs out of the pot and down the hall giggling all the way. I then chase them and try to catch them. If I catch them they go back in the pot after a good tickling.
They play another game that’s similar called Biscuits. Basically the same game except that they are biscuits and the bed or couch is an oven instead of a pot.

Another game they like to play is Roar. This one has changed a little thru each child. Mr. Responsible and Ninja called it “Monsters” but then Hedgehog wanted a softer version of the game where the monsters didn’t scream and chase each other but snuggled instead. Kabuki Warrior tackles everyone while laughing like crazy. Taters and Princess put their own spin on the game, turning the monsters into purple fluffy baby monsters that only get mean if they eat watermelon but turn nice when they are hugged. And little Squishy growls and pretends to eat everyone’s noses and cheeks.

Giant Omelet is another game. This one came from my own childhood and I shared it with my children. we all hide under a blanket, which is the “egg” and we have to figure out how to get out without getting cooked. But the floor is the pan, so if you can’t escape without touching the floor than your cooked anyway. (out of the pan, into the fire!)

 I love playing with my kids.

When I was young, the game that I remember playing the most was called “Dent-Dents” it was a game that my siblings and I played often. It started with a dented mirror, which we said caused my sister’s face to become dented. She then threw the “dents” to the floor and of course that caused lava to spill out of the carpet, so we had to escape the dents by running across pillows. If we fell into the lava the Dent-Dents could get us! To keep them at bay we would put up force fields called “Rubber bubbies” and as long as the Dent-Dents didn’t use their laser beams we could escape them and hide within the Rubber bubbies.   Ahhh, childhood.
When I tried to pass this game onto my kids, they made it their own as well. they turned the Dent-Dents into the Dentist and ran from the invisible Dentist. This game was short-lived though because once the Dentist fell into the hot lava he died.

The imagination of a child is such a wonderful place. May they never lose that creativity and desire to play.