a niece is born

We have our first niece on Beloved's side, as of 4:28 Eastern time today. Autumn Grace, welcome to the world. We're so glad you're here.



And if you know us and you're wondering what niece we have on my side, well, she's right here.

no idea what to title this, part II

read part I here

This is the first time in my adult life that I've moved into a place I didn't choose. And it's also the first time that I've clung to Jesus in the middle of the night on a weekly basis, crying out to him to sustain me. It's the first time that my marriage has been transformed by a singular set of circumstances. It's the first time that I've been able to consistently turn to my God as my "first phone call" rather than seeking out people.

There are still details up in the air. But God. And through it all, I've come to new conclusions about faith.

I've learned that faith is not a feeling or a possession. It's an action. It's a decision we make every day, sometimes every moment of every day, to place our trust and our hope in Jesus regardless of what is happening in or around us. It's a choice to find our strength, our security, our future, and our joy in the Lord even when we are drained, scared, hopeless, and burdened. It's the stubborn will that places one foot in front of the other to do the next thing, to fight the next battle, when we can't see past today. It's a fight we endure while the flaming arrows of the Enemy bombard us and we are continually tempted to throw in the towel on our beliefs about God, our relationships, and our responsibilities.

It's an action. Faith makes us say aloud, all day long if we have to, "God says this is so; therefore it must be so, even if all the evidence around me for a good long time has told me otherwise." Faith calls us to look long and hard at the character of God and who he has shown himself to be. Faith is messy because it believes in spite of emotions, in spite of logic, in spite of human failings. Faith doesn't make situations pretty or easy or joyous, but it makes them do-able. Faith can't be packaged up and taught merely in Sunday School. Faith is lived out in our actions every day. Being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see is not a concept that we pull off a shelf when we think we need it. It's not a "belief" we hold. It is what allows us to carry on when everything around us and in us tells us we simply can't.

I am learning this as I grow ever so slowly in my faith.

traditions

I'm a tradition kinda girl w/ traditions coming out of my ears, so when Every Chapter asked me to write about my favorite, I was happy she fed me an answer.

No where else in San Diego (or all of California, to my knowledge), can one start his Christmas evening with an appetizer of Swedish meatballs while watching girls of Swedish heritage sing Santa Lucia in a beautiful museum... and finish with Swedish rosettes, American apple pie, Greek baklava, and Danish pudding for dessert, chased by some hot glug from either Denmark or Sweden, while watching Baile Folklorico dancers from Mexico.

There are so many people who attend this festival now that my old go-to parking plan, walking plan, and eating plan were abandoned several years ago. I've since adopted a willingness to walk much further and eat much less (never a bad thing for the waistline anyway). But we still make this event a priority. It doesn't even need to be entered on the calendar, really. We know it's the first full weekend in December, and our schedule always makes room. Even last weekend, when we had an infant, a tired 3 year old, and we moved the next morning.

read the full version over at Every Chapter.

no idea what to title this, part I

After 21 months of uncertainty, we finally have some direction. We now know that we are not moving 550 miles away, or 350 miles away. We know that we are not quitting our jobs here to search for jobs elsewhere. We know that we are not able to keep the condo we bought 5 years ago as a step up to the house we wanted. We know that our former daycare provider, beloved though she be, will not watch our kids anymore because she's too expensive for our new budget. We know that, as of last weekend, we are now renting a little apartment close to church, close to friends, and closer to work, and that our unit number is our favorite number: 7.

The funny thing is that my response to this varies greatly. I am emotional from the toll of job loss, home loss, daycare loss, dog loss, etc, and having pregnancy hormones through the thickest part of it didn't help. Lack of sleep doesn't help much, either. But that doesn't mean that things were always bad. I have been all over the map with my emotions: excited, adventurous, hesitant, scared, exhausted, spent, frustrated, angry, jealous, impatient, humored, ambivalent etc.

But God. 21 months ago I would have said that, as much as I'd like to think I could handle something like this, I'd probably fall flat on my face.

And then I'd eat some chocolate.

But God has been God - he's worked in both of us to grow our perseverance, and he's strengthened us when our strength was gone. When we couldn't plow through one more discussion of the options before us without just walking away from each other, one of us always hit our knees and found the perseverance to keep going and the strength to lift up the weak one. When we couldn't handle one more tantrum from Pink because our nerves were raw from the many business phone calls, the taxing discussions, the up-in-the-air quality to things, and the overall drain of life, we found the strength to love her as Christ has called us to, even when that meant seeking her forgiveness and leaning on God for reconciliation. When we had 1.5 weeks to move and had no idea what zip code we'd land in, we found the faith to walk ourselves into the office of an apartment manager and apply for an apartment that wasn't exactly what we wanted, but was exactly what God was providing.

part II to come...

i like her way of thinking

As the afternoon progressed on one of our busy weekend days, Pink could think of nothing more than squeezing in a little family time:
"Mommy, tonight can we eat popcorn & watch a movie? I thought it would be fun if we skip the food and just eat popcorn with our movie."

We didn't try it, but I'm tempted...

I am, however, a little disconcerted at the thoroughness of her thought process. If she's pulling out all these rhetorical tricks on us so she can eat popcorn for dinner at the tender age of three, hmmm...

quote of the day

From Pink to mama:
"Let's get naked and shake our bootie!"

Who ARE her parents and would someone please teach them about decency?

i'm giving thanks

We finally got Pink to bed at 11 last night. When I went in to say goodnight, she asked to see her sister. Beloved started to let Pink kiss Lizzie, but instead placed Lizzie in the arms of her big sister. The crying newborn settled in immediately, nuzzling in the crook of Pink's arm, soothing at Pink's shhhhh, and melting under Pink's gentle pats. And in less than a minute, Lizzie was asleep in Pink's arms.

Pink wore the most satisfied smile I think I've ever seen on her.

And our hearts just broke in two.

world, meet "Lizzie." Lizzie, world

OK, so Lizzie is not her real name. After all, those pesky teenagers keep me a tad bit paranoid of putting personal info out there. For some reason, Lizzie struck me the day she was born as somehow fitting her. Even though I'm head over heels for her real name, this one is a special name, just from her mama. And isn't she so cuddly that you could just snuggle up under a blanket with her and take a nap?

Here's a look at her life so far, through her mama's eyes:

Lizzie,
You are 1 month old today and my heart overflows because of you just a little more each day. When you were born, they took you away for a few minutes to make sure you were ok, but you and I didn't skip a beat. I called to you from across the room and you turned your head toward me and stopped crying. We locked eyes on your first day on earth, and you've been following me around the room ever since.

You're stepping up your communication, too. You've been playing the "tongue game" since your 1st week, but yesterday you started cooing at me! Oh, my heart! I basked in it. We "talked" this way several times & you "talked" with daddy, too. You have a ready & beautiful smile that can already light up a room. You are mild-mannered; I wonder if it's because you are a gentle, unassuming, soft person, or if it's because your sister is a whirlwind of conversation and activity - do you just stay quiet because you're watching her? Time will tell.

You are happy to go to anyone and don't seem to have the need your sister had to size up new people and situations. If your food and comfort needs are met, your heart needs seem to be met as well. I wonder what that means for your future...

You are so wonderfully complex, "fearfully and wonderfully made," and you intrigue me. Your daddy, your sister, and I are all so very happy that you're here with us. We waited a long time to learn of your presence and then a long time to meet you. Lord willing, munchkin, we will have a long time to get to know you.

I love you deeply already,
mama

do i need anything?

He texts me on a particularly horrible day to say: "I'm on my way home. Need anything?"

My reply? "Sanity, time to get all this paperwork done. Oh, and a big suite in La Valencia in La Jolla w/ a comfy king bed, a spa tub, a gorgeous view, wine & room service, my husband, and about 20 hours of peaceful sleep."

So, no. Nothing you can pick up at the store. But thanks for asking.

not me monday

I'm too good of a mother to do any of these horrible things. Too good, I tell you.

I absolutely did NOT laugh at my 3 year old during a tantrum. No, I wouldn't do that

I definitely did not declare one day "video day" and replay the same exact movie 3 times so I could get work done/dishes washed/blogs read/emails sent

I'm stealing this one: I did not answer "maybe" on many occasions just to avoid the direct "no" answer the the fit that would follow

I did not let the baby sleep way too long in order to have a moment's peace

I did not make quesadillas for lunch four days in a row because I was feeling lazy. I'm much more interested in my child's nutrition than that.

I would never, and certainly did not, wish for a way to sell my child off for a few weeks.

I did not, no way, yell (read: scream) at my child three times within the first hour we were awake. Nope. And I did not use the vacuum on her pj's (that she had on) to clean up the baby powder she poured everywhere, just to prove a point. Nope. I'm too humane for that.

And I did not look at her sobbing in the midst of my yelling (screaming) and powder vacuuming and tell her "I don't care if you're crying. In fact, great! Cry! Get scared of mama. Get REAL scared. And don't EVER DISOBEY ME AGAIN!" Nope. I would never get so out of control.

And I did not play just one more movie in order to get this post finished. Uh-uh.

For more Not Me! Monday, check here.

lesson learned

After having a baby, particularly if this is not baby #1, and there is no such thing as "nap when the baby naps," DO NOT RE-READ BLOG POSTS. There will likely be grammatical mistakes such that your readers will wind up completely confused. And the only thing harder than writing with perfect grammar the first time around is trying to make sense of grammatical mistakes, and fix them correctly.

Expect quite a few mistakes between here and the time in my life, out yonder, when I will be rested and my brain will function properly. Then I will be grammar queen once again and I will obsess over every punctuation, agreement, etc. But that will all have to wait until such time that I can even remember what the other grammar points are.

I hope I just made sense...

truthful thursday

As far as I know, there is no such thing as "truthful Thursday" in the blogosphere. But... I just had to share the other pictures from our fall line up. So it doesn't look like I have it all together or anything (not that you were fooled anyway).

It started with this:

"Good? You got her? You guys good? OK, take the picture!"

















"Oh- wait, no, not quite ready..."















"Ok, there, now stay right there. You got a good hold on her? TAKE THE PICTURE!"













"I'm kind of over this. Are you done taking pictures yet?"












"Definitely time to stop."

wordless wednesday

happy fall

but God

I have come to love those two little words strung together. But God...
I can't, but God...
I don't see how, but God...
This is horrible, but God...
etc.

Not to get too deep, too early in the morning, I'm talking here about chocolate. As in, this baby doesn't do well with chocolate. She spits up lots of milk anytime I have more than one tiny bite over the course of several hours (which perhaps explains this). But her mama doesn't do well without it. With sleep deprivation haunting my every moment and Pink throwing a record number of tantrums, this is not a good thing. I'm not talking about a little fit when Pink doesn't get her way. I'm talking about tears falling and limbs flailing and screams that are loud enough to have the neighbors call CPS. All. Day. LONG. Mama needs chocolate.

Despite the threat of spit up, I've headed to the kitchen several times to "take a hit" so I can cope with the barking dog, crying newborn, and flailing three year old. Each time I've been stopped in my tracks by these words from Matthew 19:26: "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."

And each time I have walked away from the kitchen without any chocolate. None. Not one bite. In my own strength? By my own power? I'd be making pan after pan of brownies. But God. With him, all things truly are possible.

pink's first hijacking

The day after I came home from the hospital with Pink's new sister, the three of us headed to the mall with Grammy for some unmentionables for mama's role as a cow, ahem, life-giving milk maid. Grammy got Pink out of the car, I grabbed the stroller and set it up, took out the baby carrier, and everything was humming along. Until I put the carrier in the stroller.

Suddenly Pink looked around the carrier, at every square inch of stroller, and looked at me in alarmed confusion. "But that's MY stroller. I want to sit in the stroller. Why's the baby in the stroller?!?!" And there it was - her stroller had been hijacked by a sleeping baby in a (relatively) huge carrier. No room at the inn, so to speak.

Poor Pink. It's a rough adjustment going from three years of being the center of everyone's world (only grandchild on one side) to having your stroller yanked out from beside you in the parking lot at the mall. And that's why it's good to take Grammy along - she graciously carried all 45 pounds of Pink into the mall until the crying stopped. What a nice Grammy.

confessional

About 20% of the time, I call my baby by the wrong name, but not in the way that most people do. My dad was horrible at this: he called my little sister by my name first (I'm the oldest), by my brother's name next (he's #2), by the dog's name (that's just sad), and even by his own baby sister's name before he'd finally get around to my sister's name. Sometimes, he'd just give up and call my sister "Whatever-your-name-is." She's still traumatized.

My problem is that I call my baby by names that have nothing to do with anything, specifically Olivia or Silvia. Mind you, neither of those are her name or even Pink's name. I don't know any Olivias or Silvias well enough to be getting her name confused. And neither name was on our list of girls names, so it's not like my subconscious is coming through here. I simply have the wrong names entering my brain. Beyond that, I simply adore her real name, first and middle. I love it so much that half the time I introduce her with her full name, just so I can hear it out loud. And yet, when I address her directly, I can't remember what her name is!

Poor thing - her mom doesn't even know her name and I'm the one that initially chose it! On the up side, I just may be one step closer to a bloggy name, since Olivia & Silvia would do absolutely nothing to compromise our identity.

we did it

We made it through our first grocery trip alone. The three of us girls headed out, sans daddy, sans Grammy or Auntie Grace, and it only took us 1.5 HOURS!

Granted, we only needed 11 items. And the store is only 1/4 of a mile from our house. But we did it! We made it there and back in one piece, with some of my patience left in tact. And we only needed one nursing session and one 3 year old trip to the bathroom which took 10 minutes of "No, I'm not done yet."

I think we can settle in to this 2 kid thing, so long as we never plan to do anything in a hurry.

happy b-day sweetie

I could never, even when hopelessly sleep-deprived, forget the day I officially became a mother. The day all of my plans for delivering a baby turned up-side-down in an operating room, ushering in God's best for the three of us: you, me, and daddy. I could never forget the day I first looked at you closely and studied your tiny body. You and daddy seemed to know each other from the moment you were delivered; you and I took a little more time than that. We looked at each other with the same look that questioned, "But... I thought I would know you... who are you exactly?" It didn't take long, though, before our connection & relation to one another took a deep hold that will never be broken.

Now you sing so many songs I can't list them all at once.
You tell elaborate stories and keep many imaginary friends.
You have a pretend baby to go along with us whenever you aren't allowed to take one of your baby dolls (just a couple days ago, daddy actually pushed this pretend baby around the grocery store in the very real baby carrier - he got a few looks!).
You can laugh, then pout, then laugh again faster than anyone I've ever seen.
You love your friends and family dearly and talk about them often.
You can turn anything into a cell phone and often do. I catch you on the phone with all kinds of people.
You have a memory to rival anyone's. I'm telling ya, there is pretty much nothing that you forget.
You are gaining a concept of the days of the week more than ever, and if I tell you that today is Tuesday, you'll say, "Oh, and then comes Wednesday and then comes Thursday and Thursday is small group and I can see my friends!" I can't even keep track that well.
Your daddy and I are thankful that you do resemble us in quite a few ways, or we'd be sure they mixed you up at the hospital. Your brain works so quickly, that we're convinced you have more going on in your mind on any given day than the two of us put together.
You have a sweet, gentle spirit that is overflowing with compassion.
You like to remind me to be patient when I'm upset, since it's a fruit of the Spirit.
You are immensely proud of your new little sister and like to introduce her to everyone we encounter, giving them her full name. I hope that you two become life-long friends.
You love to pray to your Jesus and your God, and you talk often about how your angels are with you wherever you go.
You are sensitive as all get out, but you are also tough as nails.
You are a complex and beautiful creation.
Your hair (I couldn't help myself, I love it) makes me sin with pride and jealousy all at once.
You are a good listener.
You like to be active.
You also like to sit and read book after book after book.
You are creative and literal at the same time. Your dolls are named for the color of their clothing. Yet you can weave a story like nobody's business.
You are often quiet with strangers, but when you do feel comfortable opening up, they're likely going to hear our entire life story.
You are feisty and have a temper that can flair in an instant.
Your daddy is the only person who can get a certain laugh out of you. It's my favorite laugh.
You ask me to play your song, "He Will Rejoice" and tell you about how your name means "father rejoices." We talk about how your daddy and your Father in Heaven rejoice over you, and you melt at the thought.
You are very active and find it hard to sit still for a meal. Surprising, since you really love to eat.

You are dearly loved, and your place in our family is utterly indispensable. You make my heart hurt from suffering (watching you suffer or being the one who has to put up with you), and even more from joy. Your name fits you well, and I'm so very glad that you are mine.

Happy Birthday, munchkin. Thank you for the gift of three years of life with you. I love you.

the stats

Monday, October 19
6:27 am
20.5 inches long
7 pounds, 1 ounce
lots of dark hair
healthy

79.5 hours of labor (I've decided I've earned the right to bring that up again)
1 hour of pushing
1 blood pressure threat that was going to be treated with an unwanted epidural, in an attempt to lower my bp by taking away the pain
1 threat of magnesium sulfate during labor to lower my bp, that could have had side effects on the baby
no drugs in the end, because I went from a 5cm to a baby crying in just under 3 hours and God gave me my heart's desire of a drug-free birth

one BFF to thank forever for back rubs, encouragement, and phrases that kept me focused, and for being so excited that she had to blog about it twice

one mother to thank forever for participating in something that hurt her nearly as much as it hurt me, who gave me practical tips and encouragement even when I'm pretty sure she didn't completely understand my motivation

one husband to thank forever for the preparation that went into this, for the endurance through 79.5 hours of sleepless labor (there I go mentioning it again), for the encouragement, for the constant attention, for the sacrifice when he wanted to see my pain end, and for not giving up on me so that I could experience my heart's desire

funniest line from the whole experience, which came right after I told the anesthesiologist "No thanks" and decided to try delivering fast enough to avoid the drugs:
"I just sent away the man with the drugs. He came to me, and I sent him away!"

it's a...

girl. A beautiful baby girl. And now there are two. 79.5 hours of labor w/ no sleep (you read that right, I said seventy-nine and a half hours), the minor (ok, not-so-minor) blood pressure scare during the final two hours, the threat of IV meds, the forced epidural I ended up being able to waive, the two times we were sent home from the hospital, it was all worth it. Because look at what I have now:





I have no idea what her bloggy name is yet, and since I work with that mutant generation known as teenagers, I'd rather keep her name private (oh, how that hurts, cuz I'm so very in love with her name). But when I have a bloggy name, I'll let ya know.

but i don't want to lie in bed all day

Ah, bed rest. A week before my due date with no signs of imminent labor. And an almost-3 year old who likes to throw fits and raise mama's blood pressure, contributing to the problem which has landed me on bed rest. Ah, pregnancy. Wasn't I just saying something about being done with all this? Yes, that sounds familiar.

Good news: I have built-in time to finally finish grading those essays that have been staring at me. Each day when I ship Pink off to be loved on by grandma or a friend, I will be alone in this house.

Bad news: I have built-in time to finally finish grading those essays that have been staring at me. Each day when I ship Pink off to be loved on by grandma or a friend, I will be alone in this house. Grading essays is not exactly my favorite way to pass my time.

Oh well, what's a girl to do when she's threatened with, you know, seizures and stuff if she doesn't obey her dr.?

**updated: Moderately high blood pressure landed me in bed, which is the beginnings of toxemia/preeclampsia. The seizures part only comes on if I progress to actual eclampsia, which bed rest is meant to avoid. It's not at all serious at this point, and as long as I follow my doctor's orders, it won't ever become eclampsia and won't ever be serious. But it is something to not mess around with. So here I am, resting.

i take it back

I had no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this post. Clearly, the baby hadn't dropped quite as much and there wasn't as much going on with my body. I also had the week off from work. Having now reached the one week mark, and having returned to standing in front of a bunch of teenagers all day, and having completely lost the ability to sleep because these lovely cramps keep me up all night, I am officially "done." Nostalgia is 99% out the window (not completely, because I am me, after all, and nostalgia is in my blood).

I would really like to meet this baby. I would also really like to get this over with. When it's all over, I'm going to regret not soaking in the last days of pregnancy. So I rub my belly all day long. And I savor telling people my due date or telling them about the surprise we have waiting for us. But seriously, if this all ended right now, I'd be ok with that.

I'm ready.

not so much for the short hair

A conversation between Pink & her daddy:

"Will Benjamin be there?"

"I don't know. Who's Benjamin?"

"He's my friend."

"Oh. Do you have lots of boy friends?"

"Um, yeah... but I don't know many boys that are cute."

"Is Benjamin cute?"

"No, he's short. And he has short hair."

"Oh. Is Keler cute?"

"Um, no. He's not cute. He's just funny. And Benjamin's funny, too. But he's not cute."

"Are there any cute boys?"

"No, they all have short hair."

in the OB's waiting room

Holy cow. If this couple smooches loudly one more time, I can't help what I'll do. Granted, every woman in here w/ a big belly got here one way and one way only (presumably). However, we do not all need a peek into how they got here. We do not need running commentaries about which pictures in the magazines are sexy and which are not. We do not care to hear the comments and giggles about the "just do it" line from "The Hustle" that remind me of my days teaching junior high. And we can most certainly do without the discussion about whether or not they will try out the coconut-scented bath suggestion at home. Eeeww.

Seriously, I'm sitting here with a big stack of essays that must be graded before baby comes, and loud smacks are making me grumpy. I'd blame it on the hormones, but I really think this one is simple, common courtesy.

don't come back another day

Attention all cold and flu viruses:

It is only October and you have already found your sneaky little way into my daughter's body. You assailed her at her own birthday party and didn't even have the guts to show yourselves that day in the form of a snotty-nosed kid. You hid somewhere on the playground.

And now we're on our first round of asthma treatments for this season, during the first week of October.

Please, please go away. Visit an ant somewhere who has an abundance of sick days. People don't need you. I don't need you. I'm begging here.

have everything? check.

Leaving the house yesterday morning on Pink's 3rd weepy-for-no-obvious-reason day in a row, I went through the list: blankie? Check. Shoes on? Check. Drink? Check. Snack? Check. Good, I thought. Now we're ready to go.

And Pink added as she walked out the door and headed to the car, "And I have God wif me and Jesus wif me and my angels wif me. Mama, I'm ready to go!"

Right. I didn't forget those things, too. Nope, I wouldn't do that. Cause I'm her spiritual "mentor" and all. I'm not sure if I've ever felt such a mix of overflowing joy and conviction all at once.

takin my time

Many people have been asking me of late whether I am ready to be done with this pregnancy, and I am often at a loss as to how to answer. In one sense, yes, I am ready. Ready to meet this little baby, to know the gender, to assign a name, to study the eyes and nose, fingers and toes. I am anxious to know my child further. And the menstrual-like feelings and the constant pressure are making me feel more "done" than I ever did with my daughter. So sure, I'm ready.

But then again, I have things to do before my days become filled with exhausted feedings and changings. I still need to finish my sub plans for the person who will take over my classroom. I haven't yet packed my hospital bag. We have things to get for Pink. And in that sense, it would be nice to have a little bit more time, and the October 21 due date sounds great.

However, there is a deeper sense of preparedness that struck me as I spoke with a friend the other day. I'm not quite ready to be done with something that passes so fleetingly. Now, this pregnancy hasn't been easy. I've had plenty of "easy" times, but the morning sickness, fatigue, a sinus infection early on, and six weeks of being sick with multiple illnesses (from 29 to 35 weeks) was not exactly fun. Beloved has done much more to support me this time around than he needed to do last time. And Pink carried the burden every day of trying to make mommy happy, a truth that was hard for me to digest.

Yet, how much of my life will I spend pregnant? I have only been pregnant (with a viable pregnancy, at least) for 18 months; is this not a passing phase that will end before I know it? And so, sickness or not, 105 temperatures outside or not, fatigue or not, I feel nostalgic about this pregnancy already, and it's not even over yet. I don't have any idea if I'll be pregnant again, but I do know that I won't be pregnant with this little baby again. There are ups and downs in pregnancy, but the collection of these ups and downs is what makes this time to precious and unique. And so appealing to me, at least deep down.

I'm not a big fan of "terrible two" behavior, either. But the joys involved in that age are priceless gems that I hope to remember for the rest of my life. I fall more in love with my daughter every day, even as she drives me crazy. And it passes so very quickly. Being a tad bit sentimental helps when it comes to savoring every moment of life, I admit. But I believe that if we could all stop to look around us a little bit more, stop to take deep breaths, stop to make a genuine inquiry of a friend's well-being, stop to savor the flavors of each stage of life -- the transitions between stages wouldn't cause us to hang on for dear life, but to embrace the change and the new stage.

This pregnancy's end-date is known only to God. For now, I savor the soreness, the belly that gets wet every time I stand near the sink, the stretch marks that I couldn't prevent, the hormones that take control over my emotions at times, and each little kick/punch/stretch/hiccup from my sweet baby. This, too, shall pass. And I don't intend to miss it.

Am I ready? Not quite. But I will be good and ready when it's time to be ready.

And I admit that there's a slight chance the hormones are making me a bit extra sentimental. Perhaps the reason for a sappy post. Just maybe.

i cannot. believe. my. eyes

I just went out to the back of our building to move laundry over, at 8:00 at night. Glancing up toward the 2nd story, what did I see? A little girl, who is supposed to be asleep, peering out the window, her little face tucked under the blinds for a better view.

Sigh. Am I supposed to watch from outside and listen from inside to make sure she goes to sleep? And what surprises await me when she figures out how to climb out through a window? Oh, God, help us.

wordless wednesday

It's a darn good thing they're mine, or I'd have a serious case of envy.

losing my mind

I'm not sure why I keep doing this, but every so often when I feel the baby move I can't help but lift up my shirt to say hello and see the little thing. Cuz there's a big difference in what I can see when I get my shirt out of the way, ya know.

Ummm, yeah, time for this baby to arrive and relieve my curiosity. And also give me my brain back so I'll quit doing things like this. But not until after Pink's b-day party this Saturday. Anytime after that would be great.

my little heart is skipping a beat

We unburied the infant carrier yesterday, took out the baby bathtub, and dragged out a bassinet that was given to us. We sat together during Pink's nap and took apart the car seat to wash the cover, and we set up the bassinet to make sure it would work for us. We washed the tub and imagined the tiny little body that would sit in it and wondered if tears or giggles would accompany the splashes. And there is now concrete evidence in our house that a baby is coming!

I've given up waiting on some news about when & where we are going to move. I still may not be preparing a nursery, buying & washing clothes, and pondering the changes ahead of us, but I'm done holding off my emotions for some kind of certainty. I don't know where this baby will live. I still don't know if I should be using my pre-newborn time to pack up our entire house, or if I should hold off. I don't know possible names for him/her. I don't know how I'll dress him/her. There is no dedicated area for this baby. I don't know so much still.

But we're getting close to meeting this little one, finally, and what I DO know is that he/she will be immensely loved and cherished. And I DO know that if my King could be born into a manger in a stable, and if God is over all things, then my little one and I will be just fine. With a cute bassinet and a clean car seat installed by a strong daddy. And a big sister who is about to explode with anticipation and who is practicing helping with baths, thanks to an obliging baby doll.

And life is good, and my heart is full.

we ain't high class

After a very nice dinner at a steakhouse, compliments of the in-laws, Pink exclaimed on the way home, "(gasp!)Oh no! We forgot to get the cup from my dwink and bring it home wif us!"

To which we replied, "No, sweetie, that was what we call a nice restaurant. They used real glasses and they keep the glasses at the restaurant. Those aren't the kind we can take home."

Pink concluded, "Oh, we can't take dose home. But when we go to Mimi's we can take dem home!"

Yup.

wordless wednesday

If she's stomping grapes into wine at age (almost) three, what will she be doing by age 20?

i'm busy right now

Although I wouldn't normally recommend starting a 5-part book series on the fifth book, I must concede that the suspense builds to a climax quite rapidly. And because I'm 302 pages into the 348 pages of this book from the Zion Chronicles series, the whole world is about to change (quite literally).

Yet I am so tired from not getting enough sleep and growing a baby and hosting in-laws and all, that I can't get through the dang thing. So I will be back once I finish watching the world change. It may be a day or two. Or a week. But I will finish and be back.

In the mean time, if you've never read the series, I'd highly recommend that you do. Granted, I can't vouch for the captivating-ness of the first four books, but I plan on reading them, too, so I'll let you know. Book 5 is quite well written indeed.

hostin' the in-laws, 21st century style

Round 1
1. Plan a healthy, well-balanced, easy-to-prepare meal
2. Establish time perameters
3. Welcome in-laws in the door
4. Thank mother-in-law for preparing a yummy salad and assign her the task of grating cheese
5. Have mother-in-law set the table
6. Chit chat about how wonderful your offspring is while dinner finishes cooking
7. Call everyone to dinner, eat, and keep offspring under control temporarily
8. Welcome father-in-law (aka mother-in-law's ex-husband, who was making a last minute visit) in the door, early, while mother-in-law scurries into the kitchen to do dishes
9. Send father-in-law outside to play with offspring for a while and then finish dinner conversation with mother-in-law
10. Say goodbye to mother-in-law

Round 2
1. Welcome father-in-law in the door again
2. Finish clearing table from dinner with mother-in-law
3. Reset table with new dishes and napkins for father-in-law
4. Reheat dinner
5. Make up plate for father-in-law & call everyone to dinner
6. Watch father-in-law eat, chat with him, and keep offspring under control again
7. Clear the table again
8. Say goodnight to all, go to bed, and crash from the exhaustion brought on by 21st century in-law hosting.

on adolescence

A student's essay on the most difficult aspect of being a teenager today started out:
"Being a teenager, I think, is the most stressful time in your life. You have school to deal with. Then the fact of trying to find a job for your college fund, because let's face it your parents aren't going to pay your way ll throughout college. Also the nerve racking decision of what college you want to attend after you graduate high school."

Setting aside issues she has with syntax & spelling, this rough draft caught my eye because of the stressful time in my life right now. My initial reaction was, "Hogwash. If you only knew."

And then I thought for a moment about what my senior year was like, and I identified with the pressure she's under. Thinking about Pink, I remembered her struggles with delayed gratification, separation from loved ones, and frustration over not getting exactly what she wants. For her, life gets pretty darn difficult at times. Then I thought of my mom - she owns her house free and clear, has a steady income, and is healthy. She has also been a widow for over five years and tries her best to accept that as God's will, even though she hates it.

Which stage is the hardest? Adolescence, as many of my students asserted? My current stage of uncertainty in which we prepare to welcome a little one into God knows what house or what city? Toddlerhood? Empty-nesting & potentially widowhood? Or could it be that God allows us to grow during each stage, through all the trials we face, so that we are then prepared to face the joys and trials of the following stage?

Certainly if my student, God bless her, were dropped into the middle of my life right now, her heart would give out. But does it follow, then, that my current life stage is more difficult? Or only that hers seems relatively easy to me because I've had 15 years of maturing, living, and growing since I was in her shoes?

Perhaps each stage is just as difficult as the next, barring tragic circumstances, and this girl's life is no less stressful to her than mine is to me. Perhaps I shouldn't snicker when I read essays that detail the stresses of a relatively "easy" life stage, but should rather take my student and her peers quite seriously. I'm sorry it took me 32 years to figure this out, but I'm glad it didn't take any longer, lest I mock any more of my impressionable young students.

give me a break!

Yelled down the stairs to me, 30 minutes after the start of her "nap":

"Mama, is it daytime or still nap time?"

"It's nap time; go to sleep!"

If this child drops her nap at the exact moment the baby comes, so help me, I cannot be responsible for locking her in her room once in a while.

it really IS a boy

When Beloved walked in the door with beer tonight, nothing in the world sounded better to me. I suddenly NEEDED that beer. And (shhh, don't tell the fanatics out there) I sipped off his for a bit while I ate my dinner of BBQ pork sandwiches. As soon as I could feel it hit me (pathetically early on, I might add), I stopped sipping, seeing as how I'm already medicating this little one with 2 antibiotics, robitussin, tylenol nighttime sinus, and 2 inhalers. I figure he/she doesn't really need alcohol to boot.

But when Beloved started searching for something to help cure my craving and found leftover chocolate pie (which is bested only by fresh, homemade brownies), I turned it down. Because I still only wanted beer to go with my meat sandwich. I turned down chocolate for beer. That has never happened in my life.

If this is a girl, she's going to be one tough cookie.

divine communication?

Daddy (to Pink): Does God hear you?

Pink: (nods her head)

Daddy: If you ask for something, will he answer you?

Pink: (nods her head pensively)

Pink: (a moment later, directed toward the ceiling) Hey, God? Can I ask a favor of you? Ummm... Is dis baby a boy or a gul?
(pauses as if listening)
Oh, a boy, God? Ok.
(to Daddy) He says it's going to be a boy.

So there you have it. In case you were wondering, the insider's secret from the heavenly realm, where God's hand is knitting together this little baby, is that this baby's a boy. And who's going to argue with God?

encouragement

I needed a big, heaping dose of "It's all going to be ok" when I came across this beautifully written article, linked at Rocks In My Dryer. If you're having a good day, you should read it for encouragement in your good-day-ness. If you're having a rough day, you should read it for some encouraging perspective.

And if you can't open the full article using the link above, click here, and then scroll down to "Good Linkage" and then click on "The Next Thing."

It's worth a little hunt.

more theories

A few more commentaries on the gender of this baby:

Sinus infection that won't go away? For sure it's a girl.
Sinus infection that won't go away? Gotta be a boy.
Sinus infection that won't go away? Perhaps the lack of sleep combined with stressful decision-making and an overly-full calendar.

Lovin' the dog more lately? Obviously a boy.
Lovin' the dog more lately? I did with Pink, too.

(Relatively) Small belly centered right in the middle? Boy.
(Relatively) Small belly centered right in the middle? I'm tall so there's more room for the baby, who could easily be a girl.

One friend, who is more family than friend, just accepted the uncertainty by saying that she's anxiously awaiting the arrival of her niecephew. Cute.

death warmed over

You know that scene from Devil Wears Prada where Emily walks into the office coughing, hacking, sneezing, sniffing, and looking pathetic? That must be what I look like at work today, since I'm doing all of those things constantly, and even my noisy class settled down immediately, asking if I was going to be ok.

So I'm going home after this last class, and I'm going to bed for about a week. Nevermind that we still have family in town. This show cannot go on.

wordless wednesday

girls' hotel snack table

girls' weekend

There was an abundance of
* talking
* reading of magazine articles on ways to get your man to...
* eating of junk food (thanks D for the cookies)
* talking
* quiet time
* girly movie watching
* talking
* taking in our 5-star surroundings, which came compliments of some very generous in-laws with a time share
* stories about husbands, marriage, and kids
* lounging by the pool under an umbrella that the pool guy brought out of pity for my pregnant belly (if you can't look sexy by the pool, you might as well look pitiable)
* talking

There was a tad bit of
* missing of children
* calls/texts home to touch base
* sleep

And there was a refreshing lack of
* "mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, MAMA!"
* "Can I...?"
* cutting up of food into bite size pieces (although one peach fell victim to the habit)
* clock-watching
* stress induced by nap schedules
* interrupted conversations
* early morning, messy-haired alarm clocks asking for breakfast
* milk served in sippy cups
* reading of kids' menus
* stroller pushing
* timeouts

And given the fact that we had two sets of family in town this weekend, I did miss being at home with everyone and partaking of the craziness here. However, it was very nice to spend some time with my girls at a place like this.

gross

Two phrases that should simply not be combined into one sentence:

"Don't put that in the toilet"
"Don't put that in your mouth"

I'll kiss her again in about 5 years.

wordless wednesday

after a long day at work and two separate appointments:














now that's a devoted daddy.

why? why???

Overall, I enjoy being pregnant. I'm not so much for the nausea, the puking, the fatigue, and the soreness when Pink thinks that giving the baby a high 5, right on my belly button, is a good idea. But I love the initial feeling of knowing a baby is coming to live with us soon. I love thinking about cuddling on a good-smelling little bundle in the middle of the night. I love the clues I get about future personality traits via the types/frequency of various womb movements.

And yet, this whole sinus thing has really gotta go. My doctor and my mother have both advised me to turn the shower water up as hot as I can stand it and then let the water pour over my face for as long as I can, until everything is clear. That's all well and good, under normal circumstances. However, since pregnancy yields anything but "normal circumstances," there are three major problems with that advice:

1) It's August. Granted, it's a mild one with temps in the 90s rather than 100s. 90s plus pregnant-body heat is no consolation. It's still August.
2) I can't exactly take the shower and steam to bed with me. Where I'll be lying down. Horizontally. With no shower or steam.
3) Even if I could take the shower and steam to bed with me, I'd still have a nose & sinus system that are so swollen with extra whatever (blood? tissue? amniotic fluid?) that there would be no true relief from the stuffiness.

All of this enlightens me just a little bit more about the unwritten code of mothers: Do not, under any circumstances, tell a mother who is behind you in child-rearing the whole truth of motherhood, lest she drop her children off at someone's doorstep and swear off future reproduction.

Clearly, these two women who care for me must remember that this little shower & steam trick does not, as they say, do the trick. Either that or their mommy brains made them forget the whole truth. I guess I'll find out someday when I've either lost my mind or I snicker behind the back of some poor, unassuming pregnant mother who is desperate for some sleep.

as this little one is being formed...

the bigger one is wondering aloud, "Mommy, why is God inside your tummy knitting the baby?"

And her mommy is thinking, This child is waaaay to philosophical for me.

cravings

The text sent to Beloved upon his baby's-already-in-bed run to Cazadores, a Mexican food joint, after I'd just said I didn't want anything:

"I would love an apple pie from mcdonalds plz. & a small fry. No. Med fry. & some of ur Cazadores. & I think that's all. Thx pregnancy husband!"

an anatomy lesson

Pink was talking about helping out with the baby, and said, "And I'm goin to put da diaper on him and change him and wipe his bah-dina."

Clearly, if we have a boy, we'll need to have a little talk.

i'm beside myself

How does one thwart the intentions of a 2 year old? I'd really like to know, since mine is completely set on her own ways. When told not to touch the shampoo in daddy's hand, she does anyway. But the hard part is that she then helps him wash her own hair. So was that disobedient or helpful? Or is it both?

When I tell her to put away her puzzle, she makes sure the pieces are put back together first (not in continued play, but because of the neatness gene she inherited from someone other than me). Do I encourage her neatness, sense of order, and organizational abilities? Do I send her to time out for not obeying right away?

This girl likes order to the point that she can't move on from one thing to the next until she's satisfied that all is well (translation: organized). This is a good thing. I'd like to nurture this, seeing as how one day I'll be counting on her to keep this family in line when it comes to order (as I am deficient in this area). And yet, she needs to obey. All the time, no questions asked.

Therein lies the rub. And I don't much like this rub.

wordless wednesday

someday she'll hate me for this, but for now...

best buds

Daddy: "Pink, who's your favorite friend?"
Pink: "Ummm, the baby."

Let's hope she still feels that way 9 weeks from now...

lessons on discipline

* having bugs that wouldn't go away for 2 months taught me how to (almost) never leave so much as a crumb on any countertop, the stove, or the table, nor any dish laying around, even on days I work

* getting the house perfectly picked up by the time I leave for work so realtors can show it has taught me how to (almost) never have a piece of paper, a sock, or a toy out of place. HUGE contrast to my natural self.

* having a thinks-she's-six year old who needs to do everything herself has taught me how to get up on time so I can (almost) always drop her off at day care on time

* having an asthmatic child has taught me how to budget my time so that 6 15-minute treatments each day for a week is a doable routine

These are good lessons from not-so-fantastic circumstances. And yet, when we went to put Pink to bed (late) at 8:30 last night (on a work night), we realized that we had forgotten to buy diapers. Minor detail.

So I'm better than I used to be, but no where near perfected. Thank goodness I have a lifetime for that.

setbacks

When we bought our couch 5 years ago, it was already a couple years old. But today it was officially broken in. After several weeks of successful potty training, our couch was peed on. Yup, it's broken in alright.

english schminglish

I was just looking over a couple of recent posts and found multiple grammatical errors. That's just not good for someone who teaches English and all. Geesh!

love is...

patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Am I the only one who can't seem to get this right? Why does my own version of love look so much like the things love should not be and so little like the things love should be? Ughhhh! I'm having a low day...

30 weeks and a foot in the ribcage

How in the world time goes by so quickly is beyond me, but we're 3/4 done with this pregnancy and the growing little baby is giving me remiders of that fact in the form of a foot (or some other body part) in my rib cage from time to time.

And yet, it seems like 10 weeks is so far off! When will I meet you, little one?

faith like a child

I woke up late and still sick from yesterday. I had to leave our house perfect this morning in case realtors showed up while I was at work to show the house. Pink was particularly messy with her breakfast this morning. I didn't have time to make coffee. And when I got in the car I remembered that, since I never ran my errand yesterday afternoon, I also never filled up my empty gas tank. Pink was slow and wanted affection, and I had none to give her.

I complained to Beloved. I confessed to God. And then I just had to confess to the little smiling face in the back seat. I told her I was upset, and it's not good to be late for work (especially not at 6am - there's something ungodly about that hour). But, I told her, this is still the day the Lord has made and I asked her what we should do.

Pink, with all the wisdom of a child, enthusiastically replied, "Rejoice and be gad in it wike my Bible songs!" Um, yes. And oh yeah, it's in the actual Bible, too. Maybe I should follow that one.

life is good when...

...my little almost-three year old girl walks up to me with a huge smile and says, "Mommy, Daddy's gonna marry me. He said he would."

I can certainly share for the likes of her. And maybe that makes him feel better about that funky little phase she went through when she didn't like him so much.

one extra big slice of humble pie

I couldn't fall asleep last night until I got up and wrote this post, because I felt guilty about leaving something important out of my last post on the She Speaks Conference.

Alright. In the interest of honesty I have something to confess about my last post. I said something to the effect of "I don't need to shine except when God shines through me because I've spent so much time with him, blah, blah, blah."

And that's mostly true. I believed it and desired it before, during, and especially since the conference.

But there was something about that post which gave Satan a small & seemingly insignificant victory over me and my desire to serve God: it wasn't the whole truth. The part I left out was that I wanted to shine because, well, hello! I'm Jen and I shine and I'm wonderful and everyone wants me. Not necessarily because of God - there was a small part of me that went into the conference feeling like I could take him or leave him. It breaks my heart to write that.

But it's true. And a major part of what I would like to do for all women in the church is to remove the secrecy from our real-life struggles & pains and get to our hearts. I would love to see frank, open, honest discussions and teaching. And Satan would love to undermine that by having me start off my service and ministry with a lie.

So I'm telling the embarrassing, humbling, scary, ugly truth. Because I don't want to give Satan a leg-up in my life or anyone else's. Now you know. I wanted to be "discovered" by more than just God at that speakers' conference. And by his grace, I wasn't "discovered" and offered any contracts or speaking engagements. And so I continue right where I started, but with all the benefits mentioned in my last post. And I like it here.

reaffirmed for me in charlotte

I mentioned that I went to the annual She Speaks Conference in Nineveh, a.k.a. Charlotte, NC. The best summary I can come up with, leaving aside funny stories and amazing (but lengthy, even for my standards) details, is the following list of truths that were reaffirmed for me:

God is good.

God loves me personally. No, he is passionate about me personally.

God is so big that he can call 600 women into some sort of ministry and not start issuing notices that his program for ministry is impacted.

God knows me up and down, in and out, for better and for worse. And he's still passionate about me.

God will provide for me, right down to a perfect-for-me roommate who was just what I needed.

I really am supposed to be doing this.

My heart-of-heart's desire to just sit at his feet and keep learning, keep serving, and keep allowing him to choose which doors to open, was exactly where he wanted me & wants me still.

God's people can be the most encouraging, helpful people around.

There were also a few who were less than encouraging and helpful. Which is a lesson to me that I am Christ's ambassador and I'd better watch my step. People have enough opportunity to throw me into this group already, and I'd better clean up my act.

The most brilliant ministry leaders are the ones who follow hard after Christ. I could name names, but I'd hate to leave anyone out. All the women on the team were wonderful.

When I am shining the most brilliantly, it won't be because of the way I speak, the "wisdom" I have, or what I look like. It won't be because everyone is in love with me. It will be because I've spent so much time in the tent of meeting that I will glow radiantly with the love of Christ. So I need to keep checking my selfish ambition and remember what my heart-of-heart's desire is.

My own gifts and abilities, without Christ's enabling, are worthless.

And now I'm gonna go see my Jesus for a while.

Join me, will you? Right there at the computer.

observations on the south, part II

a few more notes from a California girl who was dropped in a strange but wonderful land:

The airports were beautiful, but somehow the intersection of Starbucks, Brookstone, and a NASCAR gift shop, in the middle of the food court, struck me as odd. I'm either incredibly ignorant or I'm officially not a redneck.

The train one must take to move between concourses in Atlanta (which I deduced was Southern-speak for "terminal") is part cattle-car and part "Listen-sweetie-you'd-have-better-decide-just-where-you're-a-headed-cause-the-rest-of-us-here-have-somewhere-impoht'nt-to-be!" That thing hauled off so fast I nearly fell over! I thought things there moved at a slower pace...

On the plus side, two lovely Southern-mama-types (at least that's what Southern mamas are like in my imagination) offered me a bar to hold on to and the sweetest "You have a nice trip, now" that I've ever heard in my life.

There are plenty of rude people there. There just must be. Logic tells me it must be so. But it's the accent thing again - it's deceiving, I tell ya. Or they're passive-aggressive in a way I don't recognize? Either way, I'm sure I was duped.

If I could spend an entire weekend sipping sweet tea (which, incidentally, was not served at the hotel) on a porch with BooMama and Lysa Terkeurst, I'd be one happy woman. I'm tellin ya, those are some funny girls.

Would someone please tell me why, in this great state of California, we miss out on the sheer joy of being called "huh-ney"? I miss that, and I'll have to go back one day just to get me a big dose of Southern drawl. Cause I love me some drawl, oh yes I do.

Can you tell I fell head over heels? Though it did help a bit that I spent most of my time inside a hotel, sheltered from the humidity and the bugs. Perhaps my view is a bit rosey, but I loved it just the same.

out on a limb here

a new look! and this time i didn't lose absolutely everything in my blog over the course of 3 frustrating hours, though it did take me a moment to figure out how to log in.

so... what d'ya think?

observations on the south, part I

Three days in Charlotte plus a layover in Atlanta led me to this:

Awfully nice people. Lovely, really. They'll kill you with kindness through that sweet drawl if you're not careful. And yet there is a relatively-constant presence of invasive cigarette smoke there. As these two opposite qualities don't seem to match up well, I am left to assume that the juxtaposition is some sort of homage to the founding tobacco plantation owners/farmers. Bless their sweet, misguided, 18th century hearts.

The airport in Charlotte actually has a screened-in (well, w/ glass) front porch with a view of the planes and, are you ready? Rocking chairs! Tons of them, all lined up. And wooden ones, at that. If I had slept more than two hours during my night of travel to that point, I'd have been tempted to trade in my coffee for a lemonade and sit a spell with a hand-held fan.

I either traveled 2000 miles or just up the road to LA - there was a "Terminal Getaway Spa" there. I could've had a facial right there in the airport if I'd wanted, sufficiently marked up in price of course.

Sitting outside in the South at the end of July brought Huck Finn & Tom Sawyer to life in a way that Tom Sawyer's Island at Disneyland never could. The humidity hangs so thick in the air I swore I caught some in my hand.

Somehow I had precious little need for my sunglasses. I did, however, have a strange hankering for a pretty hat.

and... not related specifically to the South but rather to my trip in general:

An unwise time to leave one's baby at home, for the first time ever, would be when one is spending 12 hours on 2 planes to go off gallivanting across the country - while pregnant with one's second baby (and therefore exhausted, emotional, and hormonal). After I was able to hold it together and wave goodbye cheerfully to a sobbing little girl yelling "mama" from her carseat, I ran to the nearest bathroom stall to hide my sobs for the next 10 minutes. Good times.

uncommon sense

It would seem a natural thing for an airline to, oh, I don't know, pay attention to the ramifications of a delay in a passenger's flight before taking that passenger's luggage, placing it on the runaway train we call a luggage conveyor belt, and dooming said passenger to at least 24 hours of separation from said luggage.

It would seem. Oh well, at least I was able to take a shower last night, use deodorant today (nice thing, since it's HOT today), take off the clothes I'd been wearing through 2 really long days, and run a brush through my hair.

Not that I spent much time getting ready, after waiting around until midnight for the bag I checked in 36 hours earlier in Charlotte. But you know, I could now fix my hair and look presentable. In theory.

All things considered, though, I'd much rather that I was the one on the flight home to San Diego and that I was the one who saw my family Sunday night and that I was not the one rolling from conveyor belt to conveyor belt looking for a way home. Much better that, of the two of us, it was the bag which got lost in the shuffle. Or I'd be one mad mama.

And on a positive note, I got to practice all kinds of nice thoughts, letting go of bitterness, and letting God have control over the consequences I wanted to exact on the employees in Charlotte. So, really, if I had practice time with things like those, the experience of losing my bag wasn't all bad, right? Just a wee bit smelly...

a nineveh update

Well, I went to Nineveh, a.k.a. Charlotte, NC. And I found confirmation for what God is doing, tips on things I should be doing right now to help make it happen, and the best encouragement ever: worry more about kneeling at the foot of the cross and seeking hard after Jesus than about the details of making a ministry vision come together. All at the annual She Speaks Conference.

Just what the doctor ordered. More later this week, including two posts with observations on the South from a Cali girl (rocking chairs in odd places & a hankering for a wide-brimmed hat made the list).

oh my goodness, i have a girl

Sometimes Pink needs to cry, just to cry. She's even said on occasion that she's "crying just cuz I need to cry." We were born this way??!! Tear after tear falls until she's managed to get "it" all out, whatever "it" is. And the best part? Quite a bit like her mama, she can't always even understand it herself, much less can she explain it to anyone else. Yep, she's a girl alright.

while on summer vacation i haven't...

updated the blog much
packed enough boxes for the upcoming move
cleaned out our closet
washed the car
unpacked the diaper bag
written all of the letters on my to-do list
frozen enough dinners for when I go back to work

But I have...

read book after book after book after book
enjoyed several tea parties
gone swimming to practice "scoops & kicks" with a little girl who wants to swim on her own
colored pictures to memorize Gal. 5:22
crept around the corner to watch an imagination at work
taken notes of conversations we've had
gone on dates with my husband
made dinner for my husband and daughter
kept the house cleaner than when I'm working
scheduled play dates for Pink
felt a baby move
endured a few zerbert sessions from daddy & Pink for the new baby
gone on walks (fewer than I wanted to, but oh well)
stolen many, many kisses in the middle of the day, just because
given timeouts and spankings
dried tears
tucked in for each and every nap
styled hair with barrettes and bows
played dress-up
taken naps

All in all, it was quite a vacation. Not productive in the sense of my to-do list, but my heart is certainly better off for it. When I drop her off early tomorrow morning, I'll do it knowing that I took advantage of our 5 weeks together. I loved being her full-time mom.

And it reminds me of a poem that I found before I had Pink that has kept me going in the midst of a busy work schedule, loads of unfolded laundry, dishes in the sink, social engagements I can't attend, etc, etc, etc. I'm sure you've seen a version of it before, but it bears repeating often.

*************************************************************

“Song for a Fifth Child”

Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth!
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!

Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs; dust, go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
(first appeared, Ladies Home Journal, October 1958)

the remix

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
"You make me happy, when guys are great..."

You make me happy when guys are great? Surely that means nothing to her at the moment, but someday, I'll fill her in on the little ways she messed up the song to create a totally different, but funny, meaning.

he's back on my good list

He can't be all bad if, even after my inspiring beauty sleep, Beloved sends me this text message out of the clear blue sky:

"I have a captivating wife who makes the straight and narrow exciting!"

I guess I can let go of the horse comparison thing.

this is it

I've come to the conclusion that all I really need in life is a live-in nanny in the form of my sister, who would of course take regular breaks to go live elsewhere for a couple days when we need family alone time, but would otherwise just want to do things for us.

As I'm catching up on blogging and email and just overall being lazy, she's cooking the dinner we requested.

She also kept Pink awake in the car earlier to ensure a nice long nap at home.

And she's done more than her share of dishes.

And when I was really craving something to drink other than water last night, she ran to the store to buy margarita mix so I could enjoy a frozen concoction with my dinner.

And tomorrow she's taking Pink on a date for a few hours so I can pack up lots of boxes to prepare for our upcoming move.

And then after we all eat lunch and Pink goes down for a nap, she's making me a latte to sip in my bubble bath, which will be followed by my b-day present: a one hour massage (nice to be related to a massage therapist).

Yes, I think a live-in nanny will do quite nicely.

uh-oh

Ladies,
Something is seriously wrong when your pregnant "beauty sleep" inspires your husband to make the following remark:

"Sawing logs? No you weren't sawing logs. My dad saws logs. That was more like horses!"

Which leads me to wonder, if God wanted the family to stay in tact and the husband to stick around, why in the world did he make pregnancy so ugly?

I must defend myself by noting that I did not snore on my previous pregnancy, and I most certainly do not snore on any kind of regular basis. Thank you very much.

heard around the house

Daddy: "Come on Cinderella, let's get out of the car."
Pink: "I am. I AM Cindagella!"

******************************************************

All three of us were sharing a croissant and laughing about nothing in particular, when Pink said, "This is the best family EVER!"

******************************************************

Mama: "Pink, do you like books?"
Pink: "Yes, I DO! I learn about every letter all around me and there are lots of angels and pictures all around me."
(not sure what the angels reference is all about)

******************************************************

Daddy: "If the baby's a boy, what do you think his name should be?"
Pink: "Ummmm, I think we should name him Dora the Explorer."

******************************************************

"Mama when I get all growed up and you be a little baby, you can tickle the baby in my tummy."

******************************************************

Mama: (in response to Pink pointing in the direction of her dad, whom we were picking up) "Do you see your good-looking daddy? Isn't he handsome?!"
Pink: (pointing more emphatically in the direction of her dad) "NO!"

what was the object of her enthusiastic pointing? why, a trash truck, of course.

******************************************************

(when I had hot rollers in my hair)
"Mama, you look so beautiful you look like a star. You look like a rocket star."

we're thankful...

...that this little girl was born in a country where her parents are free to teach her about the love of Jesus

...that she prays to him, and we don't worry that someone will overhear and then impose dire consequences

...that we have the means to celebrate tonight with a picnic dinner, a concert, and fireworks

...that the little one I'm carrying isn't breaking some kind of government regulation on reproduction

...that we will be free to choose the schools our children attend

...that I still get goosebumps & tears whenever members of the military, past or present, are recognized

...that there will be parades all over the country where soldiers will march, and that they will receive the honor of standing ovations and salutes.

...that Beloved is here at home with us and not off fighting somewhere

catching up

After 2 weeks of uncooperative internet service, I'm way behind on posts. Starting with Father's Day because the pics are just too darn funny to wait on, we headed for Disneyland with Papa & Grandma Lee where we met Minnie Mouse (again):






















and had tea with her,

















tried out her bed,

















and inspired Grandma Lee to instruct Papa to buy Pink a Minnie Mouse dress. Did he ever:






















Catch that? That would be a fancy Minnie dress, complete with shoes because every little girl needs pretty shoes to go with her pretty dress (Pink's idea), plus socks because Papa said that she can't wear those shoes without Minnie socks, plus a fancy purse to hold the new princess jewels she talked Papa into buying. What can I say? The girl's good, and the man's a sap for a little girl who wants to be pretty.

Two days later, she was back in her dress and shoes, picking flowers in the yard (where did this child come from?)

"Do you see my dress? It's a MINNIE dress!"






















Didn't quite see the shoes? They really are over-the-top:

in his defense...

Beloved isn't shunned by Pink all the time. He is still the only one who can make her laugh a certain way (and it's precious), she still calls out to him every morning, and he's upstairs right now reading a goodnight book to a very happy little girl. She loves her daddy. And she also ignores/shuns him. Poor guy. I guess he can be thankful that I've prepared him somewhat for the roller coaster that is living with a female!

lessons from a father

For some reason, Pink has been giving her daddy a really hard time for a few months now. She loves and adores him, she needs him, and she misses him when he's gone. But at least a couple times a week (or a couple times a day), she refuses to talk to him, touch him, or even look at him. This might go on for a few seconds or for over an hour.

He feels crushed inside. He pursues his daughter, his beloved little girl, the apple of his eye, and he is flaty rejected. Sometimes she's rather indifferent. Sometimes she's just plain mean. I did this to my dad, too, at this age. I tell Beloved that, but it doesn't lessen the sting.

It occurred to me today, though, that Pink bears a striking resemblence to the modern-day me, not just the two-year-old me. Doesn't God pursue me relentlessly? Doesn't he seek after me every day because he loves me and is passionate about me? Don't I turn away sometimes, not in anger or because I don't like him, but because there is something that catches my attention at the moment? Don't I ignore his beckoning at times? Haven't I had times in my past when I consciously walked away because I specifically didn't want to be with him?

If you have a daughter who is pursued by your beloved, then you know the heartache that comes with rejection (I speak only of daughters because that's all I know; could quite easily be the same way with sons). You've watched his face fall. Even if he recovers quickly and remains calm and loving, you see your husband's eyes wish she wouldn't turn from him.

Encourage him as he demonstrates God's pursuit of her, teaching her how very loved she is. What a high calling!

I'm off to lift up my husband. But first I'm going to my Father to ask for more grace, that I might never casually ignore him or turn from him even for a moment.

how to keep a straight face in front of teenagers when the baby kicks

*look outside and pretend there's drama out there

*find a student who's about to fall asleep and wake him/her up by dropping a book on his/her desk

*turn around and write a name on the board; then say, "just seeing if you're paying attention."

*return to the roll sheet and make sure you marked it correctly

*yell a threat about what will happen if students don't get to work immediately

*find a phone to confiscate

*distract yourself from a round of in-utero gymnastics by sitting down and writing a post about survival tactics for the pregnant woman in the classroom

true story.

that's my girl!

Pink insisted on donning the harness and climbing the rock wall at our local carnival last weekend. Even though the guy warned us not to be disappointed, she made it 1/4 of the way up! She was by far the littlest (and certainly the youngest) one to climb, my tough little mountain climber. :) You go, girl

theories i've heard

heartbeat of 140? definitely a girl
heartbeat of 140? definitely a boy

morning sickness? means it's a girl
morning sickness? means your son's already giving you trouble

showing early & straight out front? it's a boy
showing early & straight out front? could be a girl
showing early & straight out front? duh, it's the second baby

have a good appetite? gotta be a girl
have a good appetite? that's a boy for ya, already eating you out of house and home

the one that gives Beloved hope is this omen from India: if a baby is born with a little blueish spot on the bridge of his/her nose that looks like a tiny blood vessel, that baby will be followed by a boy. Pink was born with a still-visible blueish spot.

I really am getting a kick out of watching people's curiosity and steadfastness about the gender of this baby. It's funny and endearing.

So if you have other theories, keep 'em coming (disclaimer: all theories submitted to the author of this blog become the exclusive property of said author. Author retains all rights and priveleges to such theories and they may be used for publication purposes. All identifying information will be withheld).

ultrasound success!

It's a...







Just kidding. You didn't really think we'd cave, did you? Nope, we held strong to our "don't want to know" stance.

We were there for two hours (OBs should just give up scheduling anything, I swear - just tell people to take their chances cuz it works out that way anyway), and Beloved will now have to work three hours late tonight to make up for it, but we saw the little DW!

We managed not to see anything "telling" on the ultrasound so we'll still be surprised about the gender of the little thing. Pink had been talking all week about seeing pictures of "her" baby, but lost interest completely when it was a black & white 2D image. Oh well. She loves the xeroxed copies they made just for her - go figure! They are up in her room right now as she sleeps.

The measurements are all in agreement and split the difference between the two dates the doctor had originally given me - October 18. AND, the legs measured only slightly further along than the rest of the body (Pink's measured two weeks further along!); maybe this one will have Daddy's build?

And the heartbeat, if you're wondering, is still nice and ambiguous. Oh, and DW was moving around all over the place and doing crunches - definitely Daddy's baby! Mommy only does crunches when paid. :)

God help us

Just for kicks, Beloved introduced me to a certain ACDC song entitled "Got You by the B*lls." Lovely, I told him. And what did Pink do? She rocked out and danced like we've never seen before. She even threw her sippy cup across the room!

We're gonna have to watch her all the way to the front of the church. Oh, Lord, my heart can't handle this!

our baby grew up

She informed us, while stopped at a light: "I can't hear my song while you are kissing, guys!"

Ok, seriously, how old is she?

more benefits, compliments of my Father

It's no secret that we had to wait a long time for this little baby, all the while hearing stories of, "you have no idea what you're in for," and "I don't think you really understand what it's like to have two," etc. Bitterness reigned in my heart on many a day. But my loving Father has graciously given me so many blessings in this current pregnancy.

It's not necessarily "better" to have a baby die, or to have to wait through grief and impatience for another one to come along. I've learned through a history of trials that working things together for good doesn't magically turn bad things into good things. But it does mean that our ever-creative, ever-loving, ever-powerful God can give us good, even when we have experienced bad.

Case in point: At dinner a couple nights ago, I read from the pregnancy book which sits on our dining room table. About to turn 19 weeks, I read the newest measurements and developmental feats. It seems the little DW is currently developing his or her unique set of fingerprints. Last night when Pink was saying hello to the baby, she informed him/her that "Baby, you have fingerprints now!"

Thanks, Lord, for the good things that come from the bad. My little Pink is old enough to keep track of the baby's in-utero development, a concept that baffles my own mind. :)