Category Archives: Foster

Foster turns 13

So. My oldest child is now a teenager (as of this past Valentine’s Day). I thought it was sad when I weaned him, when he went on his first overnight away from me, when he started going hunting with daddy and leaving for days. Or when he turned 5, oh my goodness.  Well, apparently 13 is like that. When you sort through and scan in old baby pictures and you cry for a week. I’m not sad that he’s 13, I actually love teenagers and all the drama that can bring. The rollercoaster of mature young man to petulant child to coasting into relaxed adolescent is a fierce one that speeds along every day.

The tears come from being so proud. And so in love. I cannot fathom how I can love him more now than I did as a precious newborn. How can I love him more now than I did when he looked up at me with those sweet, hazel eyes and beautiful eye lashes and sucked his thumb and told me “I wuv you mommy”? How does that happen? I’m so thankful for Foster Owen Grubb. If I tried to list all the reasons why, this blog post would never end. Love is like that. And love for a child? Even more so.

My prayers and goals now that we have a teenager in the house?  That as parents we will know how to be a friend to our son and be his authority at the same time. That we will not only command his respect, but earn it. That our transparency will encourage his. That we will be so authentic that he will know that we mean what we say and say what we mean in all areas of our lives. Because if there is one thing teenagers are good at, it’s spotting BS from a mile away.

Cross Country 2016

TBT: Ghetto Pool

This throw-back Thursday is dedicated to the ghetto pool and the years where we were basically drowning in littles. Good thing we have some pictures because it’s pretty much a blur.


Foster turned 12

You know those parents that just go on and on about how awesome their kid is and you’re like “would you SHUT UP about how awesome your kid is?!?”

Well, so that you don’t want to say that about me, I’ll try to make this short.

Foster is amazing. He rarely ever disobeys or disrespects his father and I. He is honest, giving and loyal. He is a saver, not a spender. He is a thinker. He is happy with a trip to a used bookstore and doughnuts with his close friend as a birthday celebration. He is grateful for what we give him and does not often take his material or emotional blessings for granted.

His intelligence astounds me. His sense of humor brightens every day. He is human and he is a boy so he teases his sister mercilessly but he will help her out if she ever really needs anything. He chooses the company of his father and I. He enjoys playing with his little brothers. He is deliberate in his choice of friends and does not get hung up on fashion or what is popular.

If I had to name any flaw in him at this time I would say he is too critical of himself. He does not have confidence in his own gifts and abilities and that causes him to have an “I can’t do it” attitude. This is hard to watch as a mother and even harder to know how to combat and teach him to overcome.

I am beyond thankful that I have gotten to be his mother and know him as a person for these past 12 years.



9,312 words and healing

So I am up to 9,312 words!  I should be further along now, according to the NaNoWriMo charts, but I’m pretty excited that I’ve gotten this far.  The characters are coming to me and they are slowly developing.  I’m letting them go where they want to, because as far as plot goes, I really have NO plot.  I have some vague ideas but I don’t know if my characters are going to agree with me or not.  If they are anything like my children, probably not.

It turns out that Chris was too sick to go hunting this week and weekend so we have had some extra, much needed family time. I was able to have some time out of the house alone on Thursday which is always priceless.  Tomorrow, instead of going to church, we are planning on a long drive to find some autumn scenery to enjoy.  Tomorrow night we’ll stay in and watch a movie.  We were driving to Foster’s soccer practice and I turned to Chris and said “this weekend has been so…healing.”  He agreed.

Foster’s last soccer game and end-of-the-season soccer party were today.  He received a trophy and ate some doughnuts, it was a nice conclusion to an undefeated season.  It’s always nice to be the winners.

My parents came over for dinner this evening and I still feel so thankful that they can just drive over for dinner any time.  I’m not sure they’ll bring a dessert to share next time though since my kids ate all the cheesecake before the grown-ups could get any.

one button

I decided yesterday that I’m not going to tell my son about that button again.

The thing is, when he walked in my room yesterday, fully dressed, needing help with his hair, I zeroed in on that stupid button.  I didn’t stop to appreciate that he had fully dressed himself.  Not just because he’s 10 now and I don’t have to help him get dressed, but because he has full function of his body and his mind, to be able to do what so many take for granted.

I might have told him “you look nice.”  In the next moment though, I shattered it.  The building up, the comfort and security of being seen and appreciated by someone who loves you, with my stupid focus on that button.

“You sure you don’t want to unbutton that top button?” I asked.  The room felt heavier immediately with tension and judgment and criticism.  We’d been down this road before, even if I’d tried to keep it light-hearted and tried to explain why people just don’t button that button, it didn’t matter.

“Why should I? Are you saying I look bad?”

“No, it’s just…it just looks…well, a little dorky.”

My son I should be learning from, not teaching, says, “Who cares? I like it this way. It’s useless to unbutton it.”

He is right.  I know he is right.  There are a lot of times when buttoning that top button might be important. A job interview let’s say or his wedding day.  But not right now.  Not when he’s 10 and heading to worship a God who doesn’t care what he’s wearing.

So yesterday was it. If someone does think that he looks like a nerd, or a dork, or whatever the going term is for someone who isn’t dressed just like everyone else and they make that known, I’ll be reminded that having a kid who doesn’t care whatever one else thinks about his fashion choices is really the better thing.

spring 2014

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