She's Baaaack

Oh, golly.  I know, I know.  I haven't written in an eternity.  I hear it from my husband, best friend, you name it.  But, guys, I've been seriously busy.

To catch you up on the last...um...six months or so...

We moved!  (Insert chorus of angels here.)  I won't bore you with all the stressful details of finding and buying our new pad, but I'll just tell you that we are now the very happy owners of a lovely new-to-us place.  We got everything (almost) that we wanted in the new home new:  5 bedrooms (essential for a family of 6), a playroom (essential for a mom who doesn't like toys scattered all over the house), a school room (essential for a homeschool family), a HUGE storage room equipped with a sink and bathroom and lots of built-in shelves (this room is next to the school room and doubles as our art/science room since it has easy-to-clean floors!), a music room (for all those cellos and my big piano), a real dining room (although it's still empty because we don't have a dining room table yet).  We are in a good school district, should I ever decide to put my kids in public school, and we are close to the interstate (essential after living in Karns for several years and feeling cut-off from the world!)  We are just really happy here.  The biggest hurdle was that our old house hadn't sold when we put an offer on this one.  So, the idea of two mortgages put us in a panic enough that we decided to rent the old place.  And so we are now landlords.  It actually hasn't been as scary as I thought.

I started homeschooling again this fall--this time registered with the county so it's official.  We're over halfway through the year now and still loving it (most days).  We are participating in the co-op again this year, and I'm teaching a preschool class there while my big boys go to their own classes.  What a joy!

MIKE GRADUATED!  Yes, yes.  Mike went back to school and finished his BS in Organizational Management in December.  No real change in our lives right now, since he's not planning to leave his current job, but it is SO wonderful that he has his degree now so he has so many more options for his future.

I took on leading the middle school youth at our church.  I've only just started, so it's too early for me to say how it's going.  I think it will be a great experience for me (and hopefully the youth too!)

Jackson and Ei played soccer in the fall, and Jackson is playing basketball now.  They will both play baseball in the spring.  They are both taking cello lessons and group classes.  I need a secretary to keep up with their schedules.

Aaron turns 3 next month.  We're potty training with moderate success.  He is hilarious.

Nolan turned one in November.  He's still referred to as "the baby" around here though.  He is still nursing and sleeping in my bed, and I don't plan to make him grow up anytime soon. 

I'm having a niece next month.  I'm sure you'll hear all about her because I am just so excited I could burst. 

Okay, so sorry about the "Christmas card letter" post.  I will do better about posting...maybe.  For now, I leave you with this picture of my precious family.  Happy 2011, all. 

Spill It.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Don't tell anyone. Promise? Okay. Here goes...

I feed my kids McDonald's. {audible gasp}

Oh, it felt good to get that out. Want to know more?

I use TV as a babysitter while I take showers and make supper.

If my kids fall asleep without brushing their teeth, I don't wake them up. They're going to lose those teeth anyway, right?

I count playing Wii Music as our music theory lesson for the day.

I sometimes clean the bathroom floors with baby wipes as opposed to dragging a bucket of soapy water up the stairs.

I Febreezed my kids' VBS shirts one day last week so they could wear them again the next day without my having to do another load of laundry.

I sometimes skip rinsing cans and jars before putting them in the recycle bin.

By sometimes I mean almost always.

I sometimes say things like "don't act like a moron" to my kids.

I pretend not to hear questions that I don't want to answer.

If I forget my reusable grocery bags in the car, I just use plastic bags rather than go back for them.

I almost always forget my reusable grocery bags in the car.

I bribe my kids with candy--pretty much every day.

And I don't feel guilty (most of the time) because I am still a good mom (most of the time). Anyone else tired of all the pressure to be perfect? Well, spill it, Sister. Put it out there that you're not perfect but you ARE still pretty darn amazing.

Going UP

A few weeks ago I was sitting on the playground with my children. I was visiting with another Mama who was watching her littles play, and the atmosphere was chill. I love those days. No worries. Nowhere to be. No one crying or needy but coming by often enough to get kisses and nods of approval at the bouquet of weeks freshly picked. Heaven, I tell you.

The other Mama watched my boys race each other UP the slide and turned to me and asked a question I'd never considered before. "Do you allow your boys to climb up the slide?" Well, yes. Why wouldn't I? Why do I care which direction they go on the slide? If it's more fun going up, I say go for it. Play on, brothers. Play on.

Her question makes sense in hindsight. Last week my big boys were in VBS, but since there was no program for littles under 3, I had the two babies all week. My Aaron needs a routine and was bothered by leaving the two big brothers every morning, so we developed a new routine--drop the big boys off and head for Chick-fil-A where we ate breakfast together, then played on the playground and fed the birds our leftover biscuits. Every single morning I saw other kids rush out the glass door to the play enclosure and head straight for the slide--going up. Do you know that Mama after Mama insisted that those kids climb the stairs and go down the slide like civilized little playground users?

I think the other Mamas were trying for something very noble--respect. If you're going up the slide, those who are trying to come down can't reach the bottom. The thing is, my Aaron got off the slide anytime someone else was trying to come down. Being aware of others--now that's respectful.

I loudly praised him when he made it particularly far up the twisty slide. I'm sure the other Mamas glared. But the Mama at playgroup and I get it. Chill. Create your own sense of chill. Play on.

A Looong Winter

I know I've been gone a long time. It's been a long winter, y'all.

We did a lot of this,

quite a bit of this,

and, thankfully, bunches of this.

Oh, and two babies in the house means a LOT of this.

And now, we're ready for spring. We're dreaming of flowers. And rainbows.

Thanks for coming, winter. It's time for you to leave now.

Good to Be

Tonight at supper I kept noticing a lady at the table next to us watching my family. I caught her eye several times, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed that I made eye contact with her. I wondered what interested her so. I wondered if she envied me with my sweet family. I didn't find it hard to imagine that. If I were someone else, I'd envy me. That's a really good feeling.

It's good to be the Mama.

Quick Takes for Christmas

I'm short on time (always), but I wanted to update on little Nolan and also put a few other thoughts in my head in written form. Today, we get 7 quick takes.

1. Nolan went back to the doctor on Monday for a weight check. They were hoping he would have gained 2 ounces (1/2 ounce a day for 4 days), and he gained 9. So, that's thrilling. Of course, that was with breastfeeding, formula, pumping, and almost no sleep for Mama. So, we've backed off just a little hoping to find that perfect balance of weight gain and sanity in our household. Right now I'm breastfeeding about every hour and a half then offering a bottle. I've been pumping enough (SO MUCH PUMPING) that I'm able to offer breastmilk as a supplement most times, so he's only had formula twice in the last 3 days (both times he spat most of it back out, so I don't know if he was full or just thought it was yucky--because it IS yucky). He is taking less and less from the bottle and seeming satisfied after breastfeedings, so I think that my milk supply is increasing and he's getting stronger. THANK YOU for your prayers, kind words, and even meals. I'm serious that I couldn't have gotten through this last week without all your support.

2. I talked to a lactation consultant this week. She told me that a big part of breastfeeding is mental--if you think you can do it, you can do it. If you decide you can't, you can't. Now, I don't know what the ratio is of mind power:science when it comes to the actual mechanics of breastfeeding, but I definitely see where she's going with this. She said that there's no science to prove that mother's milk tea actually improves milk production, BUT if a mother is willing to give Daddy the crying baby and make herself a cup of tea and take the time to drink it before breastfeeding, she's already in a better state of mind and will produce more milk as a result. I think this can apply to most areas of parenting. If you walk away for a few minutes (take a walk, call a friend, go to your room and listen to Sarah McLachlan's Christmas album--which is fabulous, by the way) you come back in a better state to do whatever task is on your plate. So, it's not always easy to put into action (it almost never is, in fact), but it's really remarkable how much difference a shower in a locked bathroom can make in a tired mom's life.

3. This week a very dear old lady in my church passed away. She was the oldest church member, so this was hardly a surprise, but it still stings when someone you love passes. I only had one grandparent in my life, and she lived far away. Not that I didn't love her, of course, but she wasn't an active part of my daily life. So, when I came to my church, part of what I was looking for was that extended family that I didn't have. Boy, did I find it. There were plenty of grandmas and grandpas who surrounded me and cheered me through graduations, weddings, babies, and life's everyday ups and downs. I clung to 4 of them most dearly. She was the last of the 4 to pass. When I got the news I felt very personally sad. My boys will never again sit in her bony lap. She will never again hold my hand in her very frail one and whisper in her old lady whisper (which was really quite loud), "I sure do love you." But the news also made me extremely happy. She's finally Home for the holidays. I know that she's glowing as she greets her lost loved ones and celebrates her first Christmas Home.

4. Christmas is tomorrow. Once again it snuck up on me. I was going to be ready this year. And then I had a baby. And then the baby needed me more than I anticipated. And then it was Christmas. And the gingerbread house sits on my kitchen counter unassembled. And the presents sit in my garage unwrapped. And my Christmas lights sit in a bin unhung. And Christmas still came. And somehow all that stuff seems totally unimportant in the grand scheme of things. And I'm not even sorry that I didn't get around to all that stuff.

5. I'm struggling with Santa. The Jolly Old Elf has my gut in knots. I grew up with Santa visiting my house every year, and it just seemed natural that the same would be true for my kids. But the boys have been asking questions--too many questions--and I don't know how to lie to them. And I once heard a lady in my church talk about when her son started asking questions. She told him the truth. So, he asked next about the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. She, again, told him the truth. Then he asked about Jesus. You know, it makes perfect sense that those things would get all tangled up in a child's mind. They can't be seen, and yet grown ups insist that they're out there somewhere. Believe in the unseen. That's faith, right? So, how do we nurture their faith in Christ when they take a blow to their faith in all the imaginary childhood icons? How credible will I be when I tell them that those guys weren't real, but BELIEVE ME THIS TIME Jesus is? So, I think Santa is coming this year just because I don't have time to really sort it all out in my head before the boys go to bed tonight, but I need to do some serious thinking on this before next year. If you have advice or thoughts on the topic, I'm all ears.

6. I really didn't have 7 things to write about today.

7. Have a very Merry Christmas and a blessed 2010.

Where, Oh, Where?

Where have I been?

I've been preaching. I was asked to guest preach at a little church in Seymour for two weeks. The first week I was there the electricity was out, and I preached by candlelight in the scorching hot little wooden church. It was very Little House on the Prairie. The second week the lights were back on (along with the air conditioning, thank goodness), and I had fewer jitters, so it went much smoother. I have really mixed feelings about this though. On the one hand, I loved being in the pulpit and sharing a message with the congregants (however few there were!), but on the other hand I just kept wondering what I was missing at my home church and feeling sorry that I had pulled the boys from the Sunday School classes that they love to visit a church with only one other child their age. So, I don't know where I'm headed right now, but I am thankful for the opportunity that came my way.

I've also been getting older. Yes, let's not make a big show of it, but the anniversary of my birth recently passed. I purposefully did not say birthday because I am not having any more of those. 29 was plenty. 30 sounds old. 30 feels old (or so I'm told, but I wouldn't know because I'm staying 29). I think it's made especially difficult because I can't dye my hair right now (on account of the little guy growing inside me), so my grays mock me every morning by multiplying faster than I can pluck them out.

And I've been incubating. Baby Nolan is due in 47 days (not that I'm counting or anything), and I am finally feeling PREGNANT. I have to type that in all caps because it can only be said in a heavy, groaning voice, and I can't recreate that for you here. So, PREGNANT is the best I can do. Overall, it's still been a really easy pregnancy, but now I feel like I have to struggle for breath, and my hips are finally hurting (as if they needed to spread some more, seriously), and his knees are so bony and poking me right in the gut. At my last appointment I asked the doctor to identify the huge bump in my abdomen that was causing me so much pain, and she said, "Well, that's your little guy's knee!" as if I should swoon and put it in his baby book. I guess I didn't look very happy because she offered to help me move him. Do you know how this is done? She had me lay down, then put both hands on my belly and, I'm not kidding here, she practically did a handstand she put so much weight on my middle. Yowza. That was unpleasant. The good news is that it worked--he turned on his side and moved his knees. The bad news is that he was back in the painful knee-forward position by evening. He gets the hiccups all the time, which, again, sounds cuter than it is. This child shakes his entire body when he gets the hiccups. This is only tolerable for about 3 minutes before I grow impatient with the full body jerk inside me every 5 seconds or so. So, if you ask me how I'm feeling, I'll probably answer, "PREGNANT." And that's about as good as can be expected at 33.5 weeks, huh?

Oh, and in my spare time I've been homeschooling and cleaning out closets to make room for fall clothes and washing and hanging baby clothes and visiting doctors (one ear infection, one diagnosis of Vitiligo, 3 dental cleanings, and a trip to the vet--in addition to my bi-weekly OB/GYN appointments) and also completely revamping our entire diet in the hopes that I can prevent little Aaron from getting back in the ear infection cycle this winter.

I'm very tired now.

Just Call Me Mom

I recently read an essay in which the author attempts to convince her reader that women who post pictures of her children on Facebook as their avatars (Mom, an avatar is a picture which represents someone, kind of a photographic nametag) rather than pictures of themselves are hiding behind their children and are, as a result, offensive to the feminist movement. She argues that women are returning to a 1950s role and are in danger of becoming Mrs. John Smith. Her point is that we should be spending more time bragging about who WE are, rather than always talking about who are children are. Because I was engaged in the argument, I read the comments to the essay as well. There seemed to be a very clear divide between those who agreed and those who did not. The commonality? Those who agreed were childless and those who disagreed had children.

I have 3 beautiful children, and one on the way. I am educated, was once very good at my job, won a number of awards based on academic and literary merit, and have traveled quite a bit. My Facebook avatar is a picture of my children.

To some degree, I completely agree with what this author wrote. My children are the center of my world. I talk about them infinitely more than I talk about my own accomplishments. I spend my days shuffling from cello lessons to karate practice and making sure that they understand about vowel sounds and being nice. It's dizzying how much energy it takes to raise a child, let alone 4 children. What I don't agree with, however, is her argument that we should somehow feel guilty for all of this and change or risk losing ourselves to motherhood. Mothers have enough to feel guilty about. I lost my temper with my children. I made chicken nuggets for lunch--again. I haven't washed their sheets in 3 weeks. I let them play a computer game rather than reading a story which would enrich their lives. But at the end of the day, my children know that I love them very much. They love God and know important Bible truths. They are secure, confident, happy children. I did that (well, my family and I did that). I think moms who sacrifice parts of themselves in order to bring up healthy children deserve an award much more prestigious than a certificate from an academic society. These children are my life's work. They are my greatest accomplishment.

So, if I bore you at dinner parties (which I think is a hilarious argument, because how many moms do you know who regularly attend dinner parties??) with stories of my children, I apologize. My observations today tell me that if this is true, you probably do not have children of your own. If you never have children, perhaps you will never understand what I mean. If you do, however, you'll get it. You'll take down all the expensive art in your home and replace it with photos of your children with cheesy smiles. You'll start answering to "Aaron's Mom" without minding a bit. You'll wake up in the morning with a prayer on your lips for the tiny people who make up your world. You'll pass up a chance to go out with the girls for a chance to go to the park with the kids. You'll put a picture of your children on Facebook as your avatar. And you won't feel a bit lost in the process.

Today...

Today...

my youngest child went back on ear drops (which he hates more than just about anything) for ANOTHER ear infection. If you're counting, we're on number 10.

my middle child threw tic-tac-toe pieces into the air like confetti. My youngest child scooped them up before we could reach them and put several in his mouth. I think I got them all out before he swallowed any, but there was a brief moment of gagging that was pretty scary.

my oldest child looked at me and flat out said "no" when I told him to do something.

I separated approximately 50 fights between the big boys.

my middle child decided he was big enough to put the toothpaste on his own toothbrush. Normally the toothpaste would have been far out of his reach, but I just bought a new tube today, and it was still sitting on the counter. He squeezed about half of it out of the tube onto the floor and then proceeded to try to put it back in. Have you ever read the Ramona books? Yeah, that's what happened.

my oldest child tried to "help" clean up the toothpaste mess (I suspect that he might have had a part in it) by wiping the bathroom floor with half a roll of toilet paper. He threw it all in the potty and then tried to flush. The toilet is now clogged.

I think we're all at our limit with this traveling Daddy thing. Around 5:00 today I started thinking that I would lose my mind with disobedient, disrespectful children. This is the point when I would normally begin the countdown to pass-off time. I might even call Mike to get an ETA so I could mentally coach myself through the last few minutes. But today, like every other evening since February, I could only count down to bedtime, knowing that before I could tuck them in bed I would have to feed the children, bathe them (we had Ravioli, so baths weren't optional), and do the bedtime routine (which is my least favorite part of every single day). I'm trying to be patient with them. I know the bad behavior is just their way of showing their frustration with Mike being gone. But I can only take so much. I'm tired of being the bad guy. Tonight when we were doing our chore chart I took away 3 smiley faces from each of them (because their rooms weren't clean, they didn't obey me, and they weren't nice to each other). They both cried. I wanted to give them a last-minute chance. "Quick, clean up your rooms and hug each other and I'll give you the smiles," but I knew that would reinforce bad behavior for the following day. I just reminded them that they could start over tomorrow and get all smiles to earn their rewards, and they cried and begged for mercy.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. It seems a bit rambly and muddled, but I just needed to get it off my chest, I suppose. I am tired of always being the heavy. I am tired of working around the clock with no relief. I'm tired of my baby always being sick and no one being able to help him. I'm tired of picking up after kids all day and still having a house full of dirty dishes, laundry, and random toys strewn across the floor at bedtime. I'm just really tired.

You Hold My Heart

Friday my baby turned one. He's a toddler. And it's been really hard for me. Part of me is trying to come to terms with the fact that this is likely my last first birthday party, last first steps, last snaggly tooth grin. And part of me wants another baby so badly I can't stand it. There's just no right answer.

Monday he had surgery. Yes, it was minor. He had tubes placed in his ears. But it was surgery, all the same. He was under general anesthesia, and it was scary. The nurse gave him something she called "happy juice" to calm his nerves enough that he would go with a stranger into the OR. I needed some happy juice to calm my own nerves as I watched him go. He did fine, and we made it through the ordeal.

Back up to Saturday. We went to a birthday party at a kids' indoor play station--kind of like Chuck E. Cheese for the older crowd (including bowling, indoor go-carts, and laser tag). The boys were in heaven. We collected tickets for all the games we won, and we cashed them in for cheap prizes before leaving. The boys chose matching stuffed hearts. One said "Be" and the other said "mine." I assume they were leftovers from Valentine's Day, and I thought they were a pretty lame prize, but I really wanted to go and didn't particularly care what they chose. On the way out, Ei told me that he wanted me to have his little heart. It was really cold and I thanked him for the gift but asked if he could hold it until we got to the car where I could look at it while warming up. He said, "Okay, Mama. I'll hold your heart."

Oh, my precious Ei. You already hold my heart. You and your brothers have held my heart since before you even entered this world. As I sat in the doctor's conference room on Monday waiting to hear that the surgery was over and everything was okay, I replayed this moment. I wish I had thought to take the heart with me to hold as a tangible reminder of how precious my children are to me. But the truth is I didn't need anything tangible. I watched them take my baby Aaron as I stood there empty-handed and helpless, and I knew that my heart was with him.

Jackson, Ei, and Aaron--you hold my heart.

Twinkle, Twinkle, I'm a Star

I had a cello lesson. It was slightly traumatic. But I think I'm going to be okay.

First of all, the cello is not like the violin. All my smug inner thoughts that told me I was going to be a super-star at this cello thing were dashed when I realized that my experience in violin is not going to help he here. Just like all the other kids, I'm new and terrible and butchered Twinkle, Twinkle.

Second, my hands shook during the whole lesson. They even turned blue. Okay, bit of history here--my best friend recently got diagnosed with Raynaud's Syndrome. Her hands turn blue when she gets cold. She looks like a corpse, and it's creepy. The other day I was in my preaching class and saw that MY HANDS WERE BLUE. Very weird. Anyway, it's only happened a few times (not all the time like my weird gross friend), but it did happen during my lesson. I became very self-conscious and tried to hide it from the sweet gal who is teaching me cello. She didn't mention it if she noticed. My hands shook for about an hour after the lesson, but the blue tint went away by the time I was in the car.

Third, I was not good at it, but I survived. This was important. Here's my story--when the going gets tough, I quit. I have never stuck with anything that challenged me. So, I'm trying very hard to coach myself through this. This probably all sounds very silly, but if you have an anxiety disorder, you get it. It was terrifying. And I survived. I think I might even go back next week. I'm convinced that this makes me a superstar.

And I think I've broken my little finger. I can't tell you how because you'd be disappointed to learn that I was opening a box with a little to much vigor and pulled my finger so hard that I almost cried (but instead laughed for about 5 minutes because I'm cool like that). So, now I'm wondering how I'm going to play the cello with a broken finger?

And I'm already dreading the moment when my teacher mentions a recital. Seriously? A recital? At my age? I feel silly just thinking about it.

Thank goodness for Prozac. Yes, I weaned the baby, and thus have been reunited with my old pal Prozac. I've missed him so. Pass the little blue pill, please.

Did Ya Know?

25 Things You Might Not Know about Me

1.I don’t take out the trash. It’s going to get ugly while Mike’s out of town.
2.My toes go numb when I get cold. Sometimes they stick up in the air and I can’t make them lay down again.
3.My tummy is obscenely stretched out after 3 babies, and the skin hangs lower on the left side. I have thought about having a tummy tuck after my next baby.
4.I dance in the kitchen (using my counter as a barre) while I’m cooking supper.
5.I didn’t know I was afraid of mice until Saturday.
6.I did know that I was afraid of heights, germs, spiders, guns, and cancer.
7.I can’t figure out why anyone would move to a place where it snows 6 months out of the year. One day was enough for me.
8.I once came within inches of a 40-foot whale shark while swimming in Utila.
9.I will eat just about anything if it has cheese on it.
10.Except fish. I won’t eat that regardless of what you put on it.
11.I am good at math but terrible at balancing a checkbook.
12.I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
13.I took Latin for 7 years and don’t remember any of it.
14.I only got in trouble twice in school. Once was in second grade for talking in the bathroom. The other time was when I was in high school. Becca and I got yelled at and separated for laughing when the landscaping teacher was labeling plants and said, “D. Monkey Grass, E. Fern, F. Yew.” (Did you catch it? F. Yew? It was hilarious. He disagreed.)
15.I realized the other day that I know the name of every Handy Manny tool, Bob the Builder truck, and Cars vehicle, but I can’t identify a single Disney princess. I think this officially makes me a boy mom.
16.I check my email about 5 times a day but only check my voicemail about every other day, usually because I can’t find my phone. So, email me, okay?
17.I used to teach at a rehab facility for children with behavioral problems. I had a hard time naming my children because I have negative associations with so many beautiful names.
18.I spend more money on pictures than I do on clothes. This is not an exaggeration.
19.According to statistics, I’ve changed 12,000 diapers.
20.I think this is why I only have time for a haircut about once a year.
21.When I do get a haircut, I always get suckered into buying all the products they use.
22.I can pretty much fix anything with a hot glue gun.
23.I don’t think camping is fun. Call me crazy, but I’d rather stay inside where I have a nice comfy bed and I control the temperature.
24.I don’t like my wrists touched. I can’t explain, really. It makes me aware of my pulse which makes me think of all the blood rushing through my veins which makes me want to pass out.
25.At one time in my life I could only sleep with my feet hanging out of the covers. Now I can only sleep if the blankets are tucked into the bottom of the bed so my feet are covered tightly. I don’t know why the change.

Day 2

Okay, first of all, thank you so much to everyone who read yesterday's post and then emailed or called to express their concern. I just reread it, and I realize now that it was a bit over-the-top dramatic. You know those days when reality comes crashing in on you and it seems too much to process? That was yesterday. Today was better.


It snowed this morning. It started as little delicate snowflakes drifting past our window at breakfast. By lunch it was coming down hard and stuck enough to pretty well cover our yard. It was so beautiful and relaxing to watch. The boys were so excited they were just beside themselves. During Aaron's nap I took them outside and showed them how to make a snowman and snow angels and snow balls to throw and catch snowflakes on our tongues. Alley (our lab) ran around like a puppy and chased snowflakes. The boys danced in the falling snow and giggled in the way that only preschoolers can. I took pictures. Go to my photo blog to see.


When we came in the boys were cold and lazy and curled up on the sofa with a warm rice sock and a fluffy blanket to watch cartoons. I took the opportunity to clean out the junk drawers in my kitchen. When I was finished I felt like I had accomplished something.


I went to dinner with some friends of ours that have become like family. It was a wonderful distraction for the boys and for me. I know it was a pity dinner--they went out with me because I was alone. But I took it anyway. It was fun. It's lovely to have people who go on pity dinners with me.


Jackson didn't cry himself to sleep tonight. We did have a rather deep discussion about Heaven and dying, but it wasn't sad. It was very matter-of-fact. He seemed a little bothered until I told him that we'll all be in Heaven together. Then he was happy. So, I have a real obligation to get there now since I've promised.

I'm still lonely for my husband, but I'm okay now. I remember when he went away last time it was the first day that was the hardest. We'll make it. But thanks for being there anyway. I feel very loved today.

A Little Self-Pity

I'm feeling overwhelmed with life again.

Last week I took the baby to the pediatrician because he was really fussy. They confirmed that he had a double ear infection and also told me that he has Adenovirus. He went on antibiotics for the ear infection, and that gave him diarrhea for the next several days. The doctor said that if he gets another ear infection before March she'll refer him to an ENT for tubes. He's still tugging on his ears after 6 days of antibiotics. Not good.

Last night Jackson woke up around midnight crying. Mike went upstairs and found him in his room hysterical because he had thrown up. We cleaned it up and put him in the shower. I put him in bed with me and cuddled him until he fell asleep. He woke again at 4:30 to be sick again. I took his temperature. It was over 102.5 (I say over because the thermometer had still not beeped that it was done, but Jackson pulled it out of his mouth and said that he was done with it--I didn't fight him because I figured that we were giving him Tylenol no matter what the exact number was). He didn't get sick again, but he did run a fever until this afternoon. He didn't eat any dinner tonight and fell asleep about 7:00.

Prior to Jackson's waking up last night, Becca, Russell, Mike, and I were having game night. We were playing a nice game of Rook when my dog started going crazy. She was running around and acting like a maniac. Mike got up to see what the commotion was about, and he saw a tiny mouse run under my refrigerator. I have to be honest here--I knew there was a mouse in the garage. I saw him when I was putting away the Christmas decorations. I just didn't really care. It's cold outside, and I figured if he could get warm in my garage, what's the harm? But this crosses the line. My generosity has been taken advantage of. It is not okay with me for a mouse to be in my kitchen. I also have to defend myself and say that my house is clean. It's not just tidy, but it's safe to eat off my floors. I just don't want anyone reading this and picturing nastiness in my home. Anyway, Mike and Russell moved the refrigerator and the mouse ran out, but they didn't see where he went. The dog can't find him either. So, there's a mouse loose in my house--unless he moved back into the garage.

And this afternoon Mike left town. He hasn't had to travel much in the last couple of years, so this is new for us. He will be gone for the rest of the week. Then, in two weeks, he leaves for Chattanooga where he will spend the next 4 months. We're hoping to be able to work it out so he can come home some during the week and we can visit him when he can't get away, but it's still going to be a major change. Jackson cried himself to sleep tonight. I held him and rocked him and made soothing sounds, but it just didn't do the trick. He needs his daddy. This is going to be a challenge.

And so tonight I put my three precious children to bed, fixed myself some supper, and sat down to check my email. I couldn't sit still. Instead I found myself pacing the floors of my house trying to figure out how to make it feel right. I turned up the heat. I put on my favorite jammies and slippers and wrapped myself in a fuzzy blanket. I checked Facebook. I turned on the TV. I enjoyed the noise and turned on a CD in addition to the TV. I got mad at the noise and turned everything off. And now I sit here and type and wonder what to do next. I did this once before. Mike was gone for 7 weeks the last time he had to travel. I did it. I fed and bathed and dressed my two babies and managed to remember to put the trash out every week. But now they're sick. And sad. And it's cold. And there's a mouse. And I'm lonely already. And this sucks.

Where Did it Go?

Today I wrote a check and, for the first time, wrote the year 2009 as the date. I really think 2008 was such a blur that I can't quite grasp beginning a new year. It got me thinking--where did 2008 go? And then I remembered...

I began potty training my Ei.

We had a baby.

The baby had jaundice--bad jaundice. The kind that makes the doctors tell you to immediately go to the hospital and put an IV in your baby's foot. The baby was hospitalized for 3 days. He still had jaundice. They pricked his tiny foot every day for so long I lost track of it. Then finally they decided that it wasn't going away and that meant it was just breastmilk jaundice--no big deal after all. Go home and forget that your baby is yellow.

The baby cried--a lot.

Ei rejected the idea of potty training.

The economy went sour. This is bad news for a husband in sales. He managed to hold on but was stressed out quite a bit.

We went to Disney World--with a 3 year old, 2 year old, and a 4 month old.

The baby finally stopped crying and became the sweetest little guy.

I started homeschooling my children (although it's best if you just say we "play school" when my husband's around mmmkay).

My 3 year old turned 4 and my 2 year old turned 3. We had parties at Pump it Up and celebrated becoming big boys.

Jackson started taking cello lessons.

Ei continued to reject potty training.

I started teaching Sunday School. Jackson was promoted out of the preschool Sunday School class and into "big boy" Sunday School. He rotates to my class once a month, and it's such a joy watching him grow in his love and knowledge of God and the Bible.

Ei developed stranger anxiety. I discovered this when he asked to go to cello lessons and then refused to talk to the teacher.

I had a birthday--my last birthday, to be precise. I turned 29. I choose not to turn 30.

Ei got sick--really sick. We went to the ER in the middle of the night (our first ER trip, actually) and wound up being admitted to Children's Hospital. He spent 2 nights there. He cried for Jackson. It broke my heart.

Then the rest of us got sick. We managed not to get hospitalized, but it made for a bumpy last few months of 2008.

Mike was offered a new job which will require that he work out of town 4 months every year. We pondered it and weighed our options and decided to go for it. The stress of making this transition smooth for my family added 15 gray hairs to my head.

I dyed my hair--a lot.

I finished Pastoral Care and Polity, which leaves me with only one semester remaining in the Presbytery's lay pastor program.

I gave up on potty training and called the PottyMD in a desperate plea for help. He said he can help me and my insurance will even pay for it. I heard a chorus of angels in the background.

The baby started crawling and got two teeth. Then he started standing up. I think this may lead to walking soon. There goes another gray hair.

Jackson performed in 2 cello recitals (one for a nursing home and one more formal Christmas recital). He did great and made me so proud.

Christmas came on schedule even though I was behind. Some of our decorations didn't go up this year, and we didn't make it to Gatlinburg as we had planned. The boys had a wonderful Christmas anyway and gave me a wake-up call that Christmas is about a lot more than bows that never made it on packages.

My family grew, not only in number but also in love. Ei is amazing with the baby--so patient and loving--and he adores his big brother. Jackson is so considerate of both of his brothers. He saves Ei bits of his cookie, even when Ei isn't around, and brings Aaron's pacifier or blanket or special toy when he's upset. Aaron thinks the big boys are the greatest toys and loves to crawl all over them and smother them with "kisses."

So, goodbye, 2008. Hello, 2009. I hope that we can go slower this year--less hospitals and hurrying and more laying on the playroom floor and giggling. I hope I'll be able to savor 2009.

Oh, and I'd also like a new baby too.

She's Back

Crickets...crickets. I know--it's been quiet around here. I have three children, we've taken turns being sick for the last 2 months, and Christmas was 3 days ago. Those are my excuses. And, because I have not written in so long, there is much to say. That being true, today you get blog clips. I'll be back in full swing in 2009.

1. The baby was standing up in his crib when I went to get him this morning. I am not ready for him to walk, so I pushed him down. I'm going to try not to beat myself up over it. (Of course, I didn't actually push him down. Don't flood my email with criticism of my parenting skills.)

2. We had a lovely Christmas, although I wasn't ready for it. I have a list of things that just never got done this year. I don't know why--I was fully aware of when it would occur. I just couldn't seem to get it all in our schedule. I'm going to try not to beat myself up over it.

3. I enrolled myself in cello lessons. I think I can do this. The teacher emailed and said she wanted to wait until late in January to start the semester because her schedule is crazy right now. Fine by me, I said. I was secretly glad to postpone it a bit. I'm going to try not to beat myself up over it.

4. The baby has two teeth. He bit me while I was nursing him and made me bleed. I decided to wean. I felt a twinge of guilt for not breastfeeding for a full year like I had planned, but it hurt and, honestly, I was really looking for a reason to quit anyway. He got almost 10 months of exclusive breastmilk, and I think that's pretty good. I'm going to try not to beat myself up over it.

5. Everyone is talking New Year's Resolutions. I don't have one. I feel pressured to make a decision in the next couple of days. Then I'll feel pressured to keep the resolution. Then I'll feel like a failure when I break it on January 5. I'm going to try not to beat myself up over it.

Maybe I do have one after all.

You know, if someone talked to my children the way I talk to myself, I would be livid. I wouldn't stand for it. In fact, I wouldn't even allow someone to talk like that around my children. It's just not nice. So, I'm not sure why it's okay for me to talk like that to myself. 2009--I'm going to take better care of my children's mother. And I will fail. I'm going to try not to beat myself up though.

My Cup Runneth Over

Jackson is my hero. I mean it. Today my 4 year old faced his biggest fear head-on. He performed in his first cello recital.

I took violin lessons from 2nd grade through college. I was never forced to go to lessons or practice or play in recitals. I chose to do all of that. I decided I wanted to play violin like Isaac Stern (a hero all 2nd graders idolize, I'm sure), and my mom obliged. My dream was to play "Flight of the Bumblebee," which was my favorite song at the time. (What? It wasn't yours? I told you I wasn't normal.) I had a number of teachers over the years (some for many years and some for only a short time), and although each of them taught very differently they all had one thing in common: recitals--not negotiable. Each time a recital approached I got that same sick feeling in my stomach. Oh, and juries in college? It makes me want to puke just thinking about them. It is basically what it sounds like: a room full of people judging your every move as your hands shake so badly you can barely hold the bow let alone play a song. So, no, I was not a performer. I never did learn to love playing in front of people. (And I never did learn to play "Flight of the Bumblebee." Maybe someday...)

So, the reason I tell you all this... I woke up this morning with that same "gonna throw up any second" feeling in my stomach that I used to get before one of my own recitals. All day I kept worrying that Jackson was experiencing the same thing, but he sure hid it well if he was. This afternoon I suggested that we practice his song once before we pack up his cello and he said, "Okay, but I'm already pretty good." Well, there's nothing wrong with his self-confidence, anyway. But then I made the mistake of calling it a recital. Okay, a little background info for you: Jackson told me he would not perform in a recital. So, when Miss Kathleen (his cello teacher) asked if he would perform with her at a retirement home, we told him that it wasn't a recital but rather an opportunity to minister to some grandmas who didn't get to see kids very much. How can you say no to that? He agreed and was happy to do so. So, when I slipped and called it a recital, he looked at me with this look of betrayal. "So, it was a recital after all?" his eyes seemed to say. I quickly corrected my language, but I think he knew something was up. When we got to the retirement home, he looked around and anxiously asked me what would happen if he made a mistake. I am so thankful that we just attended a cello recital the other night in which two of the students messed up enough that Jackson noticed. We had a lovely conversation later about how sometimes people make mistakes and no one was angry or upset with them and everyone still enjoyed their music. So, I reminded him of this conversation and he nodded knowingly. I swear this kid has a soul so much older than 4. He sucked in his cheeks and rocked on his heels as Miss Kathleen tuned his tiny cello and set up their chairs. When she told him it was time to play, he nervously walked to his little chair, sat down, and played his song like a champ. I wanted to stand up and scream, "That's my kid. See that brave little boy? He's mine!" but I restrained myself. After the recital Daddy and I took him out to eat at the restaurant of his choice and gushed all evening about what a great job he did.

I asked him what it was like playing in his first recital (and I used that word because it's over now). He said, "Well, I was pretty nervous at first. But when it was over I felt kinda proud."

I told him that he has another recital coming up in a few weeks and that he's going to play "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." He started to protest when Ei chimed in with, "What will I play?" I told him that he probably wouldn't play in the concert because he's only had 2 lessons, and he looked so sad. Jackson beamed at him. "Ei, when you're four you can play in concerts like me."

We have had a bad month: sick kids, hospitals, dying relatives, funerals, break ins. It's been rough. Today my little man played his cello for a room full of elderly people while his fan club cheered him on, and somehow the world seemed right again. I am so proud of him I could burst. He's my hero, I tell you.

And I leave you with a picture he drew for his cello teacher. It's of him, happily playing his cello.

Celebrate Babywearing

When Aaron was about 6 weeks old I thought I would lose my mind. He cried all the time. I couldn't put him down even long enough to brush my hair, let alone take a shower. It was a difficult time. Then I stumbled across Steph's blog (Adventures in Babywearing). A light went off in my head. This could work...

So, I bought a Peanut Shell and popped him in. He looked around, confused at first, and then closed his eyes and went to sleep. My baby, who prior to that day only slept in 15 minute increments, slept for an hour. When he woke, he looked up at me, smiled really sweetly, and leaned in close. I was immediately in love with this whole idea of babywearing. We went to DisneyWorld, and my sweet guy rode on my hip contently the entire week. I feel so bonded to him. I really regret that I didn't think of this earlier. My older two boys really missed out--and so did I.

Whenever we're out running errands, I find it really convenient to wear him. He can't reach for things, he doesn't put his mouth on the nasty shopping carts, he doesn't get cranky, and my hands are free. Wherever I go, we draw attention. While babywearing is really common in other parts of the world, it just hasn't quite caught on in full force here in the United States. I was actually surprised that my spellchecker kept flagging babywearing as a misspelled word. I understand that it's becoming trendy in some parts of the country, but it's still a very "granola" thing to do around here. I'm okay with it. I love having him close to me, and he loves it too. As soon as I pull the sling out of my bag he starts laughing and shaking his arms. Today my dad was visiting and as he watched me wear a sleeping Aaron he joked that I would eventually have to cut the cord. Maybe. But not today.

Tears and Laughter

"The main thing in one's own private world is to try to laugh as much as you cry." -Maya Angelou

Sometimes the best cure to a crappy week is to get your closest friends together and be silly. We played Quelf. We laughed until we cried. And tomorrow is Monday--a new week. It's a good time to start over. So good.

The Sharps and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

I will warn you up front: this post has no merit. I do not plan to put any moral lesson or a silver lining or anything positive at the end. So, if you are looking for inspiration today, look on. I can't help you. I'm drained.

Today marks day 11 of Croup in our house. Ei got it last Sunday night and spent Sunday and Monday nights in Children's Hospital. Then Jackson got it Friday. Fortunately he only needed a prescription for steroids and was sent home. Then last night Aaron got it. He slept no more than 90 minutes at a stretch before waking to stridor breathing and that horrible seal-like cough. I'd fill the bathroom with steam from the shower and we sat in there for as long as we both could hold our eyes open and then go back to bed and start the cycle over. We made it through the night without having to go to the ER, and that's an accomplishment, I think. This morning I took him to the doctor. Yup, Croup. And a double ear-infection, just for an extra kick in the pants.

As I was getting Aaron ready to go to the doctor this morning, my husband called me. His stepfather had died a few minutes prior to his call. His blood pressure dropped dangerously low, and he was rushed to ICU. Unfortunately they were unable to stabilize him. Mike's mother was waiting for her husband's mother to arrive at this hospital so she could break the news to her. She was understandably heartbroken, despite the fact that this was not a surprise to anyone. I was not particularly close to the man, nor were my husband or children, but my mother-in-law loved this man, and I love her. Her mom just died last year. Sometimes life is super-unfair. She was supposed to babysit the baby tonight while Mike and I took the big boys to Disney on Ice. She called and said she still planned to watch him. Can you imagine losing your husband and then volunteering to babysit that very evening? Instead, Mike is going to skip the show tonight and stay home with her. I'm sure that on the day you lose your husband you need your child there for you. I wonder if she is really hurting for her mom right now. I would be.

So, life spat on us this week. Sometimes it does. Now is when I would normally insert some bit of wisdom or clarity or even a Bible verse to tie everything up neatly with a bow. I guess I'm just feeling peevish today because, although I know all the right words, I can't bring myself to say them. My head feels like it's going to explode. I'm not sure if I'm getting sick too or if it's the stress of the world moving chaotically around me while I stand helplessly and watch (sleep-deprived, no less). I can't stop thinking about how nice it would be to dive into my bed and pull up the down comforter and wake up two weeks from now.