donuts

Last night when my husband fell asleep on the couch, I covered him with a blanket. I took our tiniest tiny baby to bed with me, and anticipated the morning. Our Big Tiny Baby now has a big boy bed. Which means, when he wakes up at 5:30 he can get himself out of his room and well on his way to start his day. Namely, scooting himself downstairs and demanding milk.

Last night, I imagined him at the top of the stairs at 5:30 seeing his daddy down on the couch, and going straight to him for the milk. I imagined me sleeping until 10 with my tiniest tiny baby. I imagined a world with calorie free boneless chicken wings from Applebee's and peace and brotherly love.

::::

5:30 am --A sound! It is Big Tiny Baby. He is awake. He is at the top of the stairs. He is scootching down the steps. He sees his daddy. He goes to his daddy. He tells his daddy "Hi, Daddy." Daddy does not wake up. Big Tiny Baby comes back up the steps. In a few seconds I hear, "Hi Mom."

"Good morning, Buddy," I say.

And then, I become a genius, "Do you want a donut? Go and ask Daddy for a donut. He will bring you for a drive to get a donut." (Three of his most favorite things: Daddy, Donuts, Drives)

But then! My genius plan backfires....Big Tiny Baby(2.5) is excited by this. And wakes up the entire house (with the exception of Daddy on the couch--naturally) with loud talks of drives and donuts .

However! My boy (6) is reminded upon awakening that he and Daddy had planned a morning drive. In 3 seconds he is dressed for the day with all the gear he needs for the aforementioned drive. My girl, not to be left behind--and now hungry for donuts-- is ALSO dressed and ready for the drive AND she's made her bed.

I summon my energy reserves and slither out of bed. I make the other beds. I change two diapers. I start the coffee. I wave as four of my most favorites drive off into the sunrise towards donuts.

I can hardly stand it

There are no words...this daughter of mine.


I am saving this...of course.

She's almost nine. And I know that I am teetering REALLY close to the edge of a tweenage cliff. One day when I'm a big loser, and I don't know anything, and certainly don't understand, I'm going to take this out and reread it. (Or I'll just recite it from memory.) And know that she's still in there somewhere.

I'm so lucky she's mine.

fin wail

I baked banana bread yesterday.

When it was time to add the eggs, I realized I didn't have any. It was too late to turn back. Babies were sleeping so we couldn't make a quick run, and I didn't feel like bothering any neighbors.

What to do...what to do?

I love a good quandary. Especially a cooking quandary. The challenge small. The stakes low.

Sometimes I win. Sometimes I fail. This time, it wasn't quite a win, but it wasn't a fail, either.

The banana bread came out moist and cakey.

With a slight tang.

From the mayonnaise.

her big brown eyes

I went to a concert with my mom and my girl the other night. At one point, my girl looked at me. And her eyes....big and brown and round. She was at once both the 8 1/2 year old she is right now, and the baby that she will always be in my heart. Those eyes.

I remembered the night before her first birthday. One whole year had come and gone. She would never be my tiny girl again. I cried. Hard. I woke up my sleeping husband. "She's going to be one." He didn't feel it like I did.

I was two years into a four year interior design program when she was born. Before I met her, I was sure I could keep pushing towards the career of my dreams. And then we met. My baby. My girl. My mom watched her for me while I attended classes. It worked. I tucked the pain of leaving her in my back pocket and finished another year.

The summer between years 3 and 4 of the program -that I worked so hard to get into- required an internship. I applied to a few places and was so excited to be hired to one that paid money.

That night before her birthday, I felt the sting of all that would be required from me that summer. All the time away. From the child that was no longer a baby. My girl. Growing so fast I could almost see it happening. I thought about just calling this place to tell them I couldn't do it. Quitting. Before I began.

But I couldn't.

We had sacrificed so much to get to where we were, and this internship would only be for a summer. But that summer turned into more. The 4th year in that program (my 6th college year) was busy with school-work and work-work. And I saw my girl at the end of the day. I put her to bed each night. And dressed her each morning. But the in between wasn't hers and mine. It was hers. And mine. Separately.

Everyday I sat at my desk I thought about how I would rather be sitting with her. I pressed forward, though, with that pain tucked away deep. I could still feel it.

And then, in an unexpected turn of events, we were expecting.

It was then I knew. There was no way....

....no way for us.

No way for me to tuck those feelings away any longer. It was time to tuck "my career" away.

That was almost seven years ago. I can feel that career being tucked away, but it doesn't feel painful....it feels good.

"If I could hear Christ

praying for me in the next room,

I would not fear a million enemies.

Yet distance makes no difference.

He is praying for me."

~Robert M. McCheyne

one time...

• ...I gave a woman the Heimlich maneuver at a Chinese restaurant. It felt like television. Only, no one clapped or cheered afterwards.
• ...when I was about 9 on a school field trip, I bought a Canadian coin from the mint in Winnipeg. Sealed in a plastic case, it had never been touched by human hands. On the bus ride home, I chewed it out of the plastic holder so I could be the first human to touch it.
• ...I drove my parents car around the block a few times. I was eleven. I told them about it. When I was eighteen.
• ...I saw ravens for the first time on a girl scout camp out. They were huge. I thought they were a sign of the rapture. For real. (They weren't a sign of the rapture. They were just regular ravens.)

Happy weekend.

breathing

This site, A Holy Experience, feels like a good deep breath.

Wisdom.

Just....wow.

And the music.

I read, and then just let the amazing music play.

that's my boy

"I could not live without a F18 Hornet and Destroyer."

"Inside the box is a A1 Abram's Tank it has 10 pieces of metal."

1 11 11

I am being reminded that God is God and I am not.

I know. Big news.

He is in control. I am not in control.

When I try to be in control? I lose control.

How many times will I need to be reminded?!

Made to Crave - Lysa TerKeurst

Guess what I'll be doing differently (again) this new year?

shine a good light

This is what's been on my heart this Christmas season:

If I'm "the only Jesus" someone ever sees...or I'm the one Christian someone knows...if I'm the face of Christianity and I'm a gigantic puke - a stink nugget - a worm, what kind of example am I being?

Hey! Jesus is awesome! But what about all these idiots...who let them in here?

(That last phrase is what I've been living out in the last since-my-baby-was-born.)

James MacDonald said something once that's been ringing in my ears. Here's my best attempt at paraphrasing:

You may not be the one to plant the seed, but let's don't stomp the soil all hard so that no one can plant it.

I don't want to be a soil stomper. I don't want people to look at me and say, "THAT'S what it means to love and follow Jesus?! NO THANK YOU."

So. I'm sorry I've been a puke. And that my light is a laser shining into your eyeball. I'm going to try and shine a nicer light. Because Jesus really is awesome. I'm not awesome.

I'm celebrating His birthday this weekend.

Merry Christmas.

I should take a little break from writing...

...I took down yesterday's post because it may or may not have included hypothetical idiots, Fire Marshalls and burning hotels.

My husband read it and said it didn't sound like me. I told him that it was the most me I've ever been...because I'm nothing if not overly dramatic. And loony.

He was right, though...it wasn't very nice. So it's gone.

This is precisely why God didn't give me *laser eyes.

*Sometimes, when I am driving in my car and people make me mad, I think it would awesome to have laser eyes. However, I would be lasering people in the heat of the moment. And then my husband would tell me that it isn't like me to be lasering people with my eyes. And once someone is lasered, they can't be UNlasered.

So.

There you go.

Dumb and stupid

I don't allow my kids to call people dumb or stupid. But, then, I don't allow my kids call people other mean names, either.

I allow them to call things dumb and stupid. Because sometimes things are dumb and stupid.

Context.

I worry that we, as parents, focus on minutiae and miss the point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I typed the above yesterday, and then took it back down...since context is good.....I thought I should provide a little for my rant.

(I don't want anyone thinking I'm specifically pointing fingers.)

The other day I had referred to something as having a stupid design. And 'stupid' rang in my ears. Just like 'shut up' always does. And 'crap.' Words that you were taught not to say in elementary. You know....'cause they're bad words.

But, are they?

I love 'crap.' I know it conjures up all kinds of yucky feelings, which is what makes it the perfect word to describe things.

What I was thinking about yesterday, was how we focus our attention on the words, and not the heart. I can call someone a mean name using nice words.

For example? My sister used to tell me that I had Grandma Hands. (I forgive you, Jen.) (ahahaaha!!) Now, she wasn't saying that my hands were loving and good at baking. She was saying that my hands were old ladyish and dorky. (Not that grandma's are old ladyish and dorky.) Should my parents have banned the word Grandma? Of course not. They should have made my sister pay me $300.

Kidding.

I would have settled for $200.

Anyway...you know what I mean. Less focus on the words, and more focus on the heart.

baby baby baby no

I didn't get much sleep last night. Or the night before. Or 3285 nights before that. "I'm exhausted," I told my husband while he was getting ready for work.

"Why don't you try and take a nap today?" he offered.

"Hey! That is such a great idea! Why didn't I think of that?!" I said with way too much sarcasm and sassiocity. I decided to make it a priority to get a nap in this morning. When both the boys were napping (big kids at school) my nap window was open. But then I remembered I hadn't bathed in a lot of days. I say a lot, because I'm not exactly sure when I last did. Sunday? Saturday? I don't remember. Just keeping it real. So I took a bath. HEAVEN!

AND I fixed my hair. But here's the thing with that: I keep fixing it so that it looks like Justin Bieber's. I told my stylist sister about this problem a few weeks ago. Then I saw her, and she re-cut it for me, and styled it. Voila! No Justin Bieber. However, when I try to do it myself? Voila! Justin Bieber. Although when I think about it, it's probably like complaining the results aren't Chicken Kiev when you set out making chocolate chip cookies.

Anyhow.

My nap window is closed.

My tiniest baby is asleep in my lap right this moment and doesn't want to be set down. An issue I'll worry about in a few months. Right now, I'm content to sit and rock him. Cause I'm a rock star.

the tree

I used to use only white ornaments to decorate the tree.

It was beautiful.

I scoffed at the idea of little hand made ornaments---perhaps I'd have a second tree hidden in the basement for such things.

Then I had children.

Whose little hands make ornaments.

And the tree takes my breath away.

when do the grown ups arrive?

Last night as I was tucking myself and my teeny baby into bed, my not-so-teeny-baby woke up with a bark and a wheeze.

Croup.

I secured the teeniest.

My husband met me at the top of the stairs. So much for his productive work evening. We were both rushing to calm the seal down the hall.

He was inconsolable and couldn't breathe. I snatched him from his daddy, and instructed him to go and start some HOT water in the bathroom. I grabbed a blanket and threw it around our shoulders and went outside into the cold night air.

GOOD EVENING NEIGHBORS!!

He calmed.

He could breathe.

I could breathe.

We stood out there for as long as I dared...my mind racing....he needs the cold to breathe....I cannot catch a chill or I will get mastitis....he needs to be held....I have a one month old that will need to eat in an hour, or less, or more....where do we go from here?

To the bathroom. Steamy and warm. Not helping.

I pulled the big chair to the window and opened it a crack. Sweet Seal clamored to my shoulder and close to the air that could get into his lungs. Cold. Crisp.

Relax.

Daddy reminds me that I can't handle the cold, and he takes my place. I scurry to the basement and bring up blankets. Lots of blankets. Once they are sufficiently mummified I start googling.

Croup.

How did I know it's croup? How did I know what to do? Was it on TV? Who knows. I was glad for the knowledge. Google told me that I was supposed to do what I did. Thank you Google. I'm a mom, you know. Somewhere along the way I absorbed something useful. Thank goodness I didn't think about Anne of Green Gables and Ipecac.

All night long, daddy and big baby sleep blankets deep in fresh night air.

I snuggle my tiny baby and pray that he stays well. It's agonizing watching a two year old gasp for air. I don't think I can handle it with a newborn.

Today was a long good day. Daddy was able to stay and help. Thank God. There was no doing today alone.

Big baby spends the day in Thomas Jammies watching movies and sleeping on the floor. He seems well now. Moments ago he walked past and said good bye and made for the door. Trying the locks, he said he was going for a walk. "Okay?"

No. It's not okay.

But you're okay.

And now, we're three quarters of the way through bath time. Another day come and gone.

Life just keeps rolling on. Little rest for the weary, but the weary are glad.

It's okay.

chained elephants

I heard the best "sermon" on the radio the other night.

It was about how baby circus elephants are chained to a stake dug deeply in the ground. They pull and pull and pull, then finally give up once they realize that they can't get loose. (That's not the great part.)

As mature elephants, they are still chained to a stake. The stake would never hold them if they tried to pull against it. They just assume that since the chain is there, and the stake is dug, they can't be loosed. So they stay. Chained.

The whole point was that we often believe some kind of lie about ourselves. A lie that keeps us chained. Held back. That if we only tried, we would find that we could be loosed.

I thought about myself. The lies that hold me back. My eating. I'm a good eater and always have been. I buy into the lie that I have no self control, and that I'm an eater and always will be. It's just who I am.

But it's a lie. I don't have to be a huge eater. I can have self control and be whom ever I want to be. No stake can hold me. I'm a huge elephant.

one fine day

We'll hop in our car and head towards the big city.

Just the two of us.

We'll go to a museum. I'll wow him with my knowledge of art history. (I'm sure it will all come back to me.) We will discuss. Contemplate. Pontificate. Ruminate.

We'll go out for coffee. I'll be wearing heels and funky glasses. And jewelry. Big jazzy jewelry.

We'll walk downtown hand in hand. Go in fun shoppes. (ShopPES)

And then....

Then we'll go and buy a large gun.

We'll drive off into the sunset.

When the moon is shining brightly in the winter sky, we'll dress head to toe in white.

We'll walk silently into the night and find the perfect spot.

We will not speak. The only noise will come from the player we bring with us: the sounds of a dying rabbit. (Romance!) Followed by a gunshot - if we're lucky. Coyote. Coyotes?

We're not all that different, you see.

and a week later...

He's here.

And he's amazing.

I remember when I was pregnant with our second baby how afraid I was that I couldn't love another baby as much as I loved my first baby....and how someone had told me this:

With your first child, it's like love is being poured to overflowing into a cup. It's so much love that it's spilling out in every direction. There isn't any way you can add more love to that cup. Which is why - before you've met your second, third, fourth baby - you can't fathom loving another just as much. Where would the water go? The cup is already full! But you don't have to worry! You are not adding more water. You are adding a whole 'nother cup.

I have four cups.

Filled to overflowing.