Coffee CubBuster

I'm not sure I grasp the point of pursuing transient social tech like Snapchat .  If memories are worth erasing, why are we posting them at all? I have many moments worth erasing, don't get me wrong, but typically my blunders aren't worth remembering without retrospection. I need to ponder before I post, then I can aptly understand my misgivings. I completely appreciate humorous humility for the sake of authenticity, but I like transparency that lasts longer than a few seconds. When my husband keenly and gently pointed out my lack of patience the other day,   I began to ponder this humbling notion. I searched this blog because I was certain my past medical traumas with Levi and current profession would argue for my increased patience over time. Instead of  finding justification though, I found amazing memories that served as friendly reminders, like the whistle of a tea kettle, prompting me to take the water away from the the heat. I completely forgot that Levi had so many

If a high speed train containing twelve connected cars manages to loose just one inch of one wheel on the seventh car, due to a rushed human error, the entire train would derail. However, as seen through children's toys, it takes a little time for the one car to affect the other eleven. There may be a few bumpy spots, but the rest of the locomotive will travel quite well for some time before the whole train stumbles off the track. Similarly, when we run through life on autopilot, we can skip over some significant steps that slowly but surely derail us. We are left in the wake of the aftermath wondering how such a crash occurred and/or could have been avoided. Most of us continue to learn like children. After significant pain, we learn not to touch the "light bulb" again. My third baby boy turned three this week, and touched his first heated light bulb before bedtime reading. Now every night, he reminds all of us: "don't touch the light!" One little burn, and

When I first starting having children, I recall someone telling me that the second I felt like I had the hang of things, they would quickly change, keeping me on my toes (and knees). While this is true for most kids, our Super Early, Super Strong, Levi Joe doesn't come with the same patterns as standard children. We sometimes say he has "special needs" when describing him to strangers, but this doesn't accurately define his personality or personal differences. Levi isn't a "special needs" child in the way our society would understand that label, but his specialties simply require a degree of study that exists only through constant relational exposure. Take his sleep cycles for instance. Sometimes Levi wants to mummify himself in his covers until he falls asleep and can wake up fully soaked to the bone from sweat. Sometimes he wants to smash the right side of his body into the side of an armchair in order to relax and fall asleep (much like he was positio