Words of Wisdom from Allie

Ways to Get Out of Getting in Trouble
by Allie Hadel

1. When your parents kneel down on your level to talk to you, pick a random moment, then reach out, squeeze their nose, while saying, "Beep!"

(This next one works especially well if your parents are really super mad).

2.  Wait until they take a breath in their disciplining, then ask, "Are you angry?" Of course they're going to say Yes! Then tell them, "Awww, you so pwetty when you angry." Trust me, melts their heart every time.

3. Ignore them. When they call you from across the room to tell you to stop doing something or to ask you what you're doing (and you know you're not supposed to be doing it), pretend like you don't hear them. Wait until they call you several times and their frustration level builds and builds. Sometimes they will even yell your name in extreme annoyance. That's when you turn around, give them your most innocent look, and say, "Oh, you talkin' to me, Ayee?" (insert your name here).

Works every time. Trust me.

The birds and the bees, and socks full of sweets

Lately, Allie has been asking some pretty in depth questions -- like, the kind they don't talk about in the parenting books -- and I've found myself fumbling around to give her a satisfactory (and sometimes, age-appropriate) answer.

Let's start off with her curiosity about where babies come from. We've been talking about the potential of her having a little brother or sister, and thinking hypothetically, I asked her if she would like to have another little baby in the family.

Her face lit up. "Right now?" she asked excitedly.

"Uh, well no, not like this minute . . ."

She jumped up and ran over to the hall closet, wanting her coat. "Come on, Mommy. We go to the store and get one now, okay."

I was confused. "What?"

She gave me a look, clearly wondering why I wasn't following her logic. "We go to store and get a baby. We go to Target now and get one, in the dollar section. Like Baby Fat Cat!"

"Ahhhh." I suddenly realized where her little mind was headed. She got a new baby doll with accessories for her birthday (which she named Baby Fat Cat, after our fat cat Muffintop) and last time we were at Target, I took her through the toy section and showed her where I got Baby Fat Cat. Which, by the way, was not in the dollar section, so I have no idea where that came from. Maybe because we always check out the dollar section before we start shopping.

I knelt down next to her. "Honey, Baby Fat Cat is just a pretend baby," I explained. "Real live babies, like when you were a little baby, don't come from Target or any other store."

"Oh." She scrunched up her face, deep in thought. "Then . . . where babies come from? Where me come from when I was yittle yittle baby Ayee?"

Oh boy.

"Um, well, babies come from . . . babies are born . . . ummm ." Then inspiration struck. I lifted up my shirt and showed her my c-section scar. "See, babies come from right there."

"Ohhhh." And for now, that seemed to satisfy her.

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Along those same awkward questions, Allie had another little revelation about a week ago. She finished up going to the bathroom, and did her usual "shake shake tap tap" routine. I've tried explaining to her multiple times that she doesn't have anything to "tap tap," but she hasn't really seemed to pay attention.

Until today.

"Why me no need to tap tap? Day-poo (Drake, aka Drakie-poo) tap taps."

"Because Drake is a little boy, and you're a little girl." Yeah, smart move, I know.

"Day-poo a boy, and me a girl?"

"Yep."

"And you a girl, and daddy a boy?"

"Yep. Wipe and pull your pants up and let's wash your hands, okay?"

She ignored me. She was focused. "And Oo-ah a girl, and PopPop a boy?" (my parents)

"Yep."

"And Ooma a girl, and Doodad a boy?" (Justin's parents)

Sigh. "Yep."

After running through about 20 more people that we knew, differentiating whether they were boys or girls, she asked the question: "Mommy, why me a girl? What makes me a girl, and boys a boy?"

Awesome.

"Uh . . . well, let's see here." I frantically racked my brain for an age-appropriate answer that would satisfy her curiosity. "God made little girls girls, and little boys boys."

"But what makes me a girl?"

Smart kid. "Well, little girls and little boys have different body parts," I said. "Hey! I know! Do you want a marshmallow? Maybe even 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 marshmallows?"

She jumped up off the potty, totally forgetting about girls vs. boys. "YEAH! Me want one two free four six seven eight nine ten ewevin twelve eighteen twenty marshmallows!"

"Okay then! Wash your hands and let's get marshmallows!"

Never underestimate the power of diversion/distraction with toddlers. Ever.

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We were driving home from daycare a couple days ago. The city of Greer has their Christmas decorations up already, including lights in the shapes of Christmas trees, wreaths, stockings, poinsettias, etc, hanging on the telephone poles. Allie was pointing out each one as we drove past them and commenting how pretty they were, but stopped when we passed a stocking light.

"Mommy, what dat thing?"

"That's called a stocking."

"Stockin'? What a stockin'?"

"Well, it's like a big sock. You hang the sock from the fireplace at Christmas time, and then you stuff it full of candy and toys and treats and all kinds of goodies."

Allie was silent for awhile, pondering this concept. Finally, "But, but . . . why you put candy in yours socks?"

I'd actually never thought about that before. "Well because . . . because . . . you just . . . do."

She lifted her foot up. "We put candy in mine socks when we get home?"

"No, not those socks," I was quick to answer. I could just picture her stuffing an assortment of chocolates and lollipops into her sweaty little socks, then forgetting to take them out before sticking her socks in her hamper.

"But you just said we put candy in ours socks."

"I know Als, but, well, stockings are different."

"But you said stockin's are socks."

"I know --"

"So yets (sic) put candy in ours socks, okay!"

I had no good answer for her. "Okay, maybe later."

20 questions, as answered by 3-year-old Allie

Each year, starting this year, I'll be asking Allie the same 20 questions on her birthday. It'll be fun to see how her answers change each year. :) Her answers are in blue.

1. What is your favorite color? red

2. What is your favorite toy? my new Baby Fat Cat

3. What is your favorite fruit? a grape

4. What is your favorite TV show? Super Why

5. What is your favorite thing to eat for lunch? applesauce. But we can't have applesauce today because there is no more, so you have to get more at the store yater.

6. What is your favorite outfit? my pwincess dress, my pink one

7. What is your favorite game to play? pway house with baby Pappie (Paxton)

8. What is your favorite snack? goldfish

9. What is your favorite animal? yion. (lion) No, me scary with yions. Me like a birdie. (Me: What kind of birdie?) The one that goes tweet tweet.

10. What is your favorite song? Old MacDonald

11. What is your favorite book? BumBum Bee Bear (Bumble B. Bear) and my pwincess books (The Princess Books of Manners)

12. Who is your best friend? Drake and Paxton

13. What is your favorite cereal? doggie one (Scooby Doo cereal)

14. What is your favorite thing to do outside? play ball

15. What is your favorite drink? orange juice

16. What is your favorite holiday? my birts-day (birthday)

17. What do you like to take to bed with you at night? blue bear, Mickey Mouse, Wubbies, 'Nuggle (Snuggle) Bear, Baby Fat Cat

18. What is your favorite thing to eat for breakfast? pancakes

19. What do you like to eat for dinner? ice cream

20. What do you want to be when you grow up? big. I'm not big now. I'm yittle.

The princess before her party.

Our little family

To everything there is a season . . .

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

-Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

These verses have so much meaning for me, in 2 different respects. The first is somewhat . . . well, I don't want to say silly, because it represents a turning point in my life. But some might view it as silly. I don't care.

In the movie Forrest Gump, Jenny and her hippie friends sing a song with those words in it from those verses. Throughout the movie, Forrest and Jenny remain friends, developing their love for each other, and finally marry. After Jenny dies, there is a scene in the movie where Forrest is sitting by her grave, telling her how much he misses her, how much their son misses her and reminds him of her, and just grieving her loss. During my hospital stay, one evening a group of us were watching this movie during free time. When it got to the scene of Forrest at Jenny's grave, it hit me. If I took my own life, this would be Justin, kneeling at my graveside, grieving my loss, expressing his deep endless sadness and telling me how much my precious Allie misses me and will never get the opportunity to know me. How I will miss her entire childhood, teenage years, adulthood.

And at that point, I knew I wanted to live. I didn't want to die, I just wanted the pain to end. And that was the turning point, when I knew I had to heal, make myself healthy, for my family's sake, but also for mine.

The second reason I love these verses is, each specific phrase applies to every aspect of these past 7 years.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under the heaven:

I may not understand why I've had to go through the events I've experienced in the past 7 years or so, but God had a purpose for it. I may not know what it is now, and I may never know, but I know it wasn't an accident or God forgetting about me. He had a purpose and it was part of his plan for my life.

a time to be born, and a time to die;

I was born on October 31, 1985, and I've always been super proud of the fact that I was born on Halloween. Not that I had any control over that, mind you, but I still enjoy that fact and have always taken full advantage of my birthday when trick or treating. The pain of what God allowed me to experience (a perspective that is fairly new to me, and I still struggle with) made me want to end my life, twice, enough to take actions to do so and, both times, landed me in the depression/suicide/mental health unit of the local psychiatric hospital. Thankfully, neither of those were my time to go, and family and friends arrived in time to help me.

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

Ahh, the journey of motherhood. Young minds are like sponges, and absorb anything and everything, even observations we don't know they pick up on. Through teaching Allie, both in actively teaching her, but also in how she sees me live my daily life, I'm planting the seeds that lay the foundation for how Allie (and any other future children) is going to experience life, make choices, develop morals and ethics, and learn how to deal with the ups and downs of life. When she is grown, hopefully I would've lived a life that is worthy of her looking at as a good example of how to live.

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

After I experienced what I did, it's like a part of me died inside. For the longest time, it felt like that emptiness and void would never be filled, leaving me feeling very much alone, unwanted, unlovable, with no hope of ever returning to the same person I used to be. And in a sense, I never will. As I've begun this journey, God has allowed me to slowly, very slowly and painstakingly, heal. It's been one of the hardest experiences of my life, almost as painful as the initial experiences that led to this. But I've discovered that while I will never be the same, I don't need to let my abuse define me. Rather than let it kill my soul, and slowly eat away at my will to live, I can let it strengthen me and teach me, and be more compassionate and empathetic toward others who may have experienced similar situations and struggles. Through healing, I am becoming whole again.

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

My abuser broke me down over a period of time. He caused me to lose hope, become isolated, feel alone, be fearful, and lose my will to fight anymore. Now that I have rid him of my life, and of the grip he held on my life, I can finally re-build my strength, confidence and life again.

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

People are emotional creatures, both men and women. You don't think men are emotional? Just go to a football game and observe men when their team is losing. Men are just as emotional as women. God created us with emotions so we can experience the full gamut of life. Emotions are not a bad thing; without them, life would be so dull. It's how we handle our emotions that is important. "Weeping may come in the night time, but joy comes in the morning." I can't even begin to count how many nights I cried, and cried, and cried. You would think I would run out of tears, but they just kept coming, trying to rid my heart of the intense aching, yet only draining me of emotion. On a daily basis, I plastered a smile to my face, went about my day, and smiled and laughed. No one could see how much I was hurting. Sometimes, the people with the biggest smiles are the ones with the deepest hurts. For the first time in 7 years, I am actually happy. I am content. I can laugh, and be truly laughing and smiling. It's still a struggle to not hide my hurt, and to put a smile on my face, but I"m learning to find the balance.

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

Sometimes, I look back on what I used to be, how unstoppable and independent I remember myself being, and yearn to be like that again. I mourn for the young, naive, innocent Kathy, and wonder how I got to where I am now. Now, I dance and rejoice for the person I am, and the person I am becoming. Dancing is good for the soul. Especially when you have a toddler who is constantly asking you to dance.

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

Throughout the years, I've learned that I must break unhealthy relationships, in order to keep myself healthy. Setting boundaries is a necessity, to a point in every relationship. I've learned that I can't be everyone's friend, and I can't fix everyone's problems, especially if the other person isn't willing to work on it, and I need to distance myself, or cut ties completely, with those relationships that are harmful to me and my healing. While I still love those people, I can love them from a distance. Meanwhile, I'm embracing new and existing relationships that build me up and edify and encourage me and my little family.

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

I look at this part on 2 different levels. The first part, as literal, physical hugging. For awhile after the abusive relationship ended, I didn't want anyone touching me. Not even a small hug from a well-meaning friend. I have learned, that you can express your feelings through a hug in a way that words cannot convey. My therapist, Dana hugs me after every session. She always asks permission, and it's her way of showing me how much she cares about me and how proud she is of me. When my husband and I hug, we are expressing our love and commitment to each other in a special way. When I hug my daughter, and those extra special times that she hugs me, it just makes my heart melt and my emotions and love for her swell so intensely that sometimes I tear up.

The second level I look at this section is a figurative embracing of the path that God has taken me on thus far. I used to fight and question and doubt and wonder, why God? Why me? I was refraining from embracing this life that God had planned for me before I was even born. I'm learning to embrace this journey called life, and learn from it. All of it.

a time to seek, and a time to lose;

I sought love. I sought affection. I sought acceptance. I sought to please him. Then I lost my virginity by force from him. He stole that from me, and while I can now forgive him, I can never forget. I've sought redemption and worth in Christ, and I cannot lose that.

I also sought God's help and deliverance. I begged him to make the pain and humiliation stop, and if he couldn't or wouldn't, then to just take my life right then and there. I cried out to him when I had nobody else, and he didn't hear me. He chose not to help me. Why? How could a "loving" God watch as one of his children suffered? Then it hit me: How could a LOVING God watch his Son suffer, so we as sinners can have eternal life? I may never know the answer. I may always wonder, but I must come to the place where I can accept.

a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

Some memories are good to keep alive. Fear is healthy, but only to a certain extent. Fear, genuine fear, used to cripple me. Now I'm letting my fear give me a deeper appreciation for things I've lost, things I have, and promises God has made. I can cast away that fear that debilitated me, and let it urge me on to be a stronger, more confident person. 

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

My heart was torn in so many pieces. It literally was shattered, and I was left, alone, to pick up the pieces. God and others are helping to slowly mend my heart back together, piece by piece, and rediscover life in a new sense. The scars, the evidence of the tears, will always be there -- both physically and emotionally. Scars from abuse. Scars from seven years of cutting and self-injury as my way of handling the deep, intense, and oftentimes unbearable swelling and ebbing tide of raw, raw pain. But scars do not define me. Physical scars are sensitive to the touch. Through my scars, I can be more sensitive to the Lord's whispering to me, his love for me, and to other people's hurts.

a time to keep silent, and a time to speak;

Through abuse, I was forced into silence. Silence breeds loneliness, and loneliness breeds so many other negative things. And after that abuse was long gone, I remained silent, because of the shame. Shame I unjustly felt. Shame that was not my own, that was not justified, but was there nonetheless. Through the help of my therapist, doctor, and physical therapist especially, and my husband and close friends, I am learning to speak my heart, to express my feelings and not be ashamed for what I am feeling. Feelings are never wrong; we can't help what we feel. It's how we react and deal with them. My heart is speaking, sometimes unintelligibly, but it has finally found its voice.

a time to love, and a time to hate;

I once loved a young man. I gave everything I had to him -- some willingly, some taken by force. Yet still, I loved him, for you can't just stop loving someone. I've come to realize that towards the end, I loved the man I wanted him to be. I loved the idea of having someone to love me. And when the recipient of my love, the one whom I trusted, hurt me, used me, abused me, and threw me to the wayside, I didn't allow myself to love again for 7 years, for fear of being hurt again. I am now free to love my husband in every aspect of our marriage. I love my daughter in a way that I cannot express. I fell in love with her from the moment I discovered I was pregnant, but my love for her has taken a new dimension. I love my parents and brother, for not always understanding what was going on with me, but supporting me and always being there for me. I love Dana, Dr. Rhodes and Jessica, for teaching me to trust again and never giving up on me, even when I gave up on myself. Most importantly, I've rediscovered my love for the Lord, who never let me go from the palm of his hand, who never left my side, who never stopped loving me even when I stopped loving and trusting in him. And I'm learning to love myself again, as a chosen daughter of God.

a time for war, and a time for peace;

A war raged within my soul for 7 long years. A war for my trust, for my beliefs, and for my heart. A war from which I shut others out, but broke me down to the point where I finally couldn't deal with by myself any longer. When I began to let others into my life, let them help me, rededicated my life to God, I began to finally know true peace.

AllieBug's first fundraiser -- St. Jude trike-a-thon

Last week, Allie participated in her first fundraiser ever with Amber and the daycare kids -- a trike-a-thon to benefit St. Jude and kids with cancer.

During the week leading up to the event, the kids learned a different lesson about trike safety. Always ride with a helmet on. Never ride in the street alone, etc. They had a special coloring book and stickers every day that went with the day's lesson.

I wanted Allie to understand as best she could what she was doing. So the night before the trike-a-thon, I explained to her that there are kids who are very sick and have to stay at the doctor's, so she was riding to help them feel better. She ran to the window (where she likes to watch the neighborhood kids play) and said, "Those kids?" "Well, not really," I told her. "Those kids are healthy and not sick." So I pulled up the St. Jude website and showed her pictures of some of the children, and that seemed to help her understand a little better. Until she became obsessed with finding our cat Wem, and then the moment was over.

Allie raised $425, and the 5 kids at Happy Home Daycare raised over $800. I couldn't have been prouder of Allie and her friends.

Amber really went out of her way to make the day extra fun and special for the kids. They started out with a pizza party and promises of short naps (always a plus to toddlers).

Enjoying their pizza party for lunch

Savannah

Paxton 

Allie

Drake

Kaden

Then after nap time, it was time to ride! Amber really outdid herself and made an AWESOME course for the kiddos to ride.

There were 'spectators' cheering on the little trike riders:

Pax! Team Drake! Yay Savannah!

Go Allie! Kaden!

And of course, the St. Jude hospital:

Kids playing outside and a construction site:

The course itself:

And then, the Finish line!

Each kid took their turn riding the course individually while everyone else watched and cheered from the sidelines.

Allie had such a blast and rode her trike so well! 

After they completed their ride, each kid got a special sticker, as a special momento that they had participated in the St. Jude Trike-a-thon.

She even got her own personalized trike license!

Then they ended the day with a well-deserved dip in the pool.

The trike-a-thon was extra special for us. Allie rode in memory of her 2nd cousin, John Patrick Mullen, my cousin Amy's son, who passed away 3 years ago from a brain tumor when he was 6 months old. Allie never got the privilege of meeting John Patrick, but I know they would've been great friends.

I couldn't have been prouder of my Little Bit. What a neat experience for her and the rest of the kids, to take a day out of their lives to do something special in their own way to help other kids who are sick. A special, heartfelt thank you from both Allie and me to everyone who sponsored her, whether financially, words of encouragement, or cheering her on. And an extra special thank you to Mrs. Amber, for organizing the event and going out of her way to make this a special memory for the kids.

A quick post about what's been going on with me lately

Today, I've decided that I want to live.

That may seem like an odd thing to say. Who actually wants to die, right?

In the past year, I've tried to kill myself twice. Life seemed just that bad. I wanted Allie to have the best of everything, and I honestly decided that I wasn't the best and she got gypped when it came to the mom department. I figured life would be easier for everyone else if I wasn't there to mess it up.

I realize now that it wasn't necessarily that I wanted to die; I just wanted the pain to stop, and I didn't know how else to make it stop. Suicide seemed like the only way out to me.

I spent some time in the hospital -- twice. The first time, back in the fall, I was there for a week. The second time, back in May, I was there for 13 days. Longest 13 days of my life. 13 days of intense therapy, groups, doctors, medicines. 13 days of constant supervision, since everyone on Unit 2 is under suicide watch, which means the nurses have to know exactly what we're doing and must check on us every 15 minutes, even throughout the night. 13 days without my friends, family, routine, and most importantly, without my daughter.

But also, 13 days of self reflection. 13 days of getting a glimpse of what it would look like if I were to take my own life. 13 painful days of knowing Allie was asking for me, clinging to her dad, and asking where I was and when would she see me again. 13 days of seeking help for myself. 13 days to start healing.

As I began the healing process, Allie was the only thing that kept me going. I told Dana, my therapist, "Allie is my only reason to live. If anything were to happen to her, I WOULD kill myself, because then I'd have no reason to live." And Dana responded, "Right now, you have one reason to live, and that's enough for now, considering you had none before. You have something to give you another day to want to wake up. Eventually, I want you to see that YOU are reason enough to live, but right now, we'll start with Allie."

I was diagnosed with bipolar 2. It scared the heck out of me, because I had no clue what that meant for me. I'm still learning, and I'm still scared. I don't want to be stereotyped, and I don't want my diagnosis to become an excuse for my behavior. The more I learn about what it means to have bipolar, the more I understand why I feel the way I feel and why I do what I do, but I don't want to use my diagnosis as a crutch. Now that I'm aware of what's going on, and have gotten my meds straightened out, I want to be more mindful of how having bipolar will affect my everyday life and compensate for it.

I'm not totally sure when I rounded the corner of "only wanting to live for Allie" to "wanting to also live for myself." The past couple weeks, Dana has had me going through a workbook that has been very hard and painful for me, plus journaling about reasons I would want to live. The longer I journaled, the longer my list got. The longer my list got, the more I realized that I do have a lot to live for.

I began to want to live, for me. Because I am a human being, and I'm a child of God.

And I don't just want to live. I want to thrive. I was a victim; I am a survivor; I want to be a thriver.

My therapist in the hospital, Carol, stressed the importance of celebrating even the littlest of victories. Because in our journey, our little victories are getting us one step closer to our big victories and goals.

So I'm celebrating in the fact that I do want to live. I'm celebrating that I have gone almost 3 weeks without cutting, and 1 week without even wanting to.

I may not be the world's greatest mom, but I'm the mom that God chose for Allie. And I want to be the best mom I can be for her. I'm not perfect to look at, and I'm not perfect to love, but I'm perfectly her mother. So I'm celebrating my precious, beautiful daughter.

I'm celebrating that I have a husband who has stood by me through everything and has loved me unconditionally, even when we want to punch each other in the face.

And I'm celebrating that I AM alive right now. Be patient. God isn't finished with me yet.

A new name - the story behind 'bear fluff 'n' stuff'

I wrote a Facebook status the other day:
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"I feel like I should write a parenting book. I will entitle it, "What to do when one leg of your child's stuffed bear no longer has stuffing in it, you spend a day or two wondering how it got like that, and then for the next week straight your child is constantly sneezing out chunks of 'bear fuff' from her nose."

No illustrations necessary.
--

My friend Elizabeth commented and said, at the very least, I should start a blog called 'bear fluff and stuff.'

Which is absolutely 100%-amen perfect for this blog dedicated to sharing funny stories, anecdotes, sayings and pictures of Little Miss AllieBug, (bear fluff), along with anything else random that comes into my head, (and stuff).

And so my blog's title changed. Thank you, Elizabeth!!! :)