Happy 6th Birthday, Emma!

November 20, 2008, 12:30 pm

This beautiful little girl is our firstborn, Emma. Six years ago today, she officially made me a mother, and she's been a blessing to us ever since.

Emma's personality is quite different from mine, which caught me off guard at times during her first few years. I think most mommies assume that they will see a little mini-me in their daughter. But the more I come to learn of who God made her, the more I appreciate and enjoy her as a person, often because of how different we are. She's a delight to be around, and I tell her regularly that I could not be without her, for more reasons than one!

She is an animal lover, and I can't express what an understatement that is. It would be more appropriate to say that her world revolves around dogs and horses. But pretty much any animal will do in a pinch. She's good with them, unafraid and seemingly a natural at things like feeding and caring for them. And they sense it in her and gravitate toward her. I see animal husbandry of some sort in her future.

She also loves singing, being read to, playing outside in our yard, riding her bike or scooter, drawing, stuffed animals, meticulously tucking things in, having "girls' day out" with me, spending time with all of her grandparents, hot chocolate, baking with me, helping her Daddy in the yard, the zoo, Sea World, giggling with her brother for hours at night when they're supposed to be sleeping, Play-doh, Family Movie Night, swimming, doing gymnastics, and running very fast.

She dislikes: clothing on stuffed animals, ultra-girly things like brushing hair, going to any type of doctor, and bugs of all shapes and sizes (except roly polies).

Emma's our "old soul", who takes things quite seriously and thinks about things beyond her years, with a vocabulary to match. But she's also quite the little girl, carefree and playful and loving her own imaginary world. And she insists that she doesn't want to get married because she wants to live with "her best Mommy and Daddy" forever. We'll take it! :)

We love you, Emma, and are so blessed to have you for our little girl.

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

We'll be doing more celebrating this week as grandparents join us for Thanksgiving, but this past weekend we did do a few fun things.

Our kids were invited to a Build-a-Bear party. Here they are bathing their new friends:

Then we let them play on some of the rides. Would you believe I've gotten away with never putting money in these machines for all these years? I'd just let my kids sit on them, and have them get their thrills by pretending that the bull was riding, or the car was driving. I know...mean mommy. This seemed like a worthy occassion for blowing our cover, though. ;)

Here's Emma on her first carousel ride:

And here's her sister looking quite stunned by the experience (she actually loved it but I caught her by surprise):

Their brother opted for the wilder motorcycle ride:

More birthday and Thanksgiving fun to come!

↧

Sea World---ever the adventure

December 9, 2008, 7:19 am

≫ Next: Elizabeth turns 2!

≪ Previous: Happy 6th Birthday, Emma!

Sunday morning started out in a pretty non-adventurous way. My hubby was too sick to go to church, and I wasn't sure I could brave it alone with 3 kids, so we all decided to stay home. My 3 yo son woke up saying he didn't feel well (or "peel well", in his f-less vocabulary), and didn't eat much breakfast, but I didn't think much of it.

And then it hit me: if I left a sleeping baby home with a sleeping sick Daddy, I could sneak the "older" two off to Sea World! Our season passes are about to expire, and they were offering some free giveaways to pass holders this weekend. We could have our last hoorah before the month just kept getting busier. Sounded like a great plan. I packed our lunches, snacks, and stroller, and we were off!

We had not gotten ten minutes from home when my son decided to start vomiting. I'm on a major highway, so I hand him some napkins and assure him that Mommy is going to pull over and help him. It was about this time that my daughter starts gagging and saying she's very grossed out. Aren't exits usually really close together? Why the heck was this next one 87 miles down the road?!? Ah, there it is. We turn into a Krispy Kreme parking lot, and I pull into a spot as far from other humans as possible. I fling open all the van doors for fresh air, and direct the queasy daughter to roam about the grass and try not to think about being grossed out. I go around to my son's side, only to discover that someone has discarded a baby wipe, full of its revolting contents, right where I needed to put my feet. Should I re-park? Na, we were out of the van with all the doors open, and moving would take too much time. (I'll spare you the suspense: with stories like this, you would assume I stepped on the poop, but with some fancy footwork and repeated warnings to my daughter, we managed to avoid it.)

I stripped my son of his soiled shirt, wiped everything down with wipees and napkins (note to self: always keep a roll of paper towels and a towel in the van!), and told the kids we needed to head back home. "No! Can we please still go?" Even the sick one was fully on board with proceeding with Plan A. Sigh. Think, Stephanie. Ok, are there any extra clothes in the van? Oooh! A bag of hand-me-downs in the trunk! Dig, dig...rats. It's only girl clothes. Hmmm...too girly for my son to wear for a few hours? After all, they're just flowers and ruffles. No, that would be cruel.

Aha! His sweater! If I zip it all the way up, no one will no there's no shirt under it, right? Right! Ok, so on it goes, and we get back in and continue on our way. I keep asking Buddy Boy if his tummy hurts, and he keeps assuring me it does not. (Note to self: never trust a three year old with ulterior motives.)

(Additional note to self: kids never throw up just once.) We had not been out of the parking lot for 60 full seconds when Round 2 began. (Note to readers: if you will kindly recall that Mommy is still not out of the nausea/vomiting stage of pregnancy herself, it will add to the drama of the story.)

Now at this point, Stephanie-mother-of-one child would have definitely gone home in tears. Stephanie-mother-of-two children would have probably gone home to at least get a change of clothes, then would have decided it was best to stay put and call off the outing. But let me tell you, Stephanie-mother-of-almost-four was going to see whales today if it killed her, gosh darn it. If the sick child insists that he can handle Sea World, then by golly, so can I. It's all outdoors, anyway, so it would be way more fun to throw up there than at home, right?

(Yet another note to self: when a child is throwing up, it's best to leave them undressed until you arrive at your destination so you can preserve any clean clothes you may have.) Exactly. His sweater now had his breakfast on it, too, so we're back to square one on the clothing issue. Could he go into Sea World with no shirt? Wrapped in a blanket, maybe? Oh wait...that had gotten vomit on it, too.

Fast forward a little. We were able to use a jacket of Emma's (that was blue!), rinse out the blanket in a sink at Sea World and let it dry throughout the day, and we had one of our best Sea World excursions to date.

The weather was absolutely perfect (69 degrees, sunny and clear with a nice breeze), there were no crowds at all compared to summertime, we got to pet the dolphins more than ever before, and when the day was done we'd seen three shows and all the animal exhibits. WAY more than I can usually accomplish in that amount of time when fighting the summer crowd and trying to ignore the extreme heat. And Buddy Boy? He got his appetite back within a couple of hours and didn't get sick once while we were there. And we came home to a Daddy and baby who'd had a wonderful day together, as well.

All's well that end's well, right?

Here's one of our little flippered friends that we got to spend a lot of time playing with:

↧

Elizabeth turns 2!

January 19, 2009, 6:22 pm

≫ Next: The weather and other such unimportant subjects--like sonograms ;)

≪ Previous: Sea World---ever the adventure

(But not before I snuck a video of her stating her age at 1!)

I can hardly bear to admit it, but my baby turns two today. (Well, technically speaking, my baby hasn't yet been born. I'm referring to the one out of the womb.)

Two years ago today, our sweet Elizabeth decided she was finally ready to meet us, almost two weeks after her due date. She was good enough to wait until a very unusual ice storm had barely passed, and then leisurely made her entrance on her own time.

Our only mistake was not making 'Joy' a part of her name, because that's all she's brought to this family over the last two years. She's been the easiest baby imaginable, with a tender, compliant disposition and the most adorable sense of humor in any two year old I've ever met. She sleeps like a little champ (her usual waking time is 11 a.m.---I know, don't hate me). She rarely cries about anything, even when she gets hurt. She's usually content to be entertained by her siblings or putter around the house finding interesting things to examine. She says "yeth, Thir" (yes, Sir), even when she's not the one being reprimanded. She's been speaking in three and four word sentences for over a month, and repeats everything we say.

She's the most serious little pray-er, keeping her head bowed and her eyes closed until it's time for the "amen". She rarely forgets to say "thank you" when you give her something, do something for her, or compliment her. Ever since she was about a year old, she'd be the one to clap and cheer for her brother and sister when they said their memory verses, and now she's beginning to learn some for herself. And perhaps most endearing is the way she's constantly cracking us up--sometimes on purpose, sometimes without realizing anyone's looking. It's usually her hilarious faces, but often it's just the fact that she likes to roar or the way she gets so concerned about her brother "Dado". Or the fact that when someone sneezes she says "achoo" to them instead of "bless you". Or the way she just has to "boop bunton belly" (poke my belly button) when she sees it. And don't try to tell her she's tiny, because she'll point to you and retort, "No, you're tiny!"

The girl loves bath night, because she knows she can get her daddy to give her a lotion rub-down afterwards, and she makes sure to twist into position as she asks that he do her "back, too". When I rock her at night, she always requests that I sing "Frosty the Snowman", cracking up any time I get to the part about his button nose. She wakes up so happy, and I'll often hear her awake in her crib laughing at who-knows-what in the middle of the night.

Elizabeth, I know you'll soon be leaving your baby stage behind and trading it in for your little girl stage. You won't wobble so precariously when you try to walk quickly, because your adorable feet with tiny piggies are bound to get bigger. I'm sure you'll outgrow your first request of the morning, which is for me to carry your stuffed animals downstairs in the pockets of my robe. And your smoochable belly won't always look like you swallowed a canteloupe whole.

But your Daddy and I delight to think that we're just beginning to see glimpses of the little person the Lord has made in you. And I'm sure not a day will go by, as not one has since you were born, without us marveling at the blessing God has given us when He added you to our family.

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The weather and other such unimportant subjects--like sonograms ;)

January 27, 2009, 7:38 pm

≫ Next: A dubious distinction

≪ Previous: Elizabeth turns 2!

Today was a wintery day. A front blew in quite suddenly, bringing with it temperatures that are supposed to drop into the 20's tonight, and very cold drizzle. The skies were overcast all day, and the wind was howling. All in all, it made for a very contemplative afternoon. A quiet couch by the window and a cup of hot tea were in order, so I obliged.

And the timing of it was perfect, because I had a lot to consider. Did you know I'm pregnant? You did? Well, why didn't you clue me in on it? You see, up until today, I haven't really felt pregnant. I felt incredibly sick, but so much so that I wasn't able to concentrate on the sickness being related to a baby. Then the holidays came with all their splendor and distraction, followed by January, which was welcomed like an old friend, bringing with it hope of reestablishing some order and "normalcy" in our lives.

Which brings me to today. A cold, blustery day that I'd been waiting impatiently for---the day we were scheduled for a sonogram. So then why was I so darned nervous all morning as the hour closed in? Because reality was about to hit, that's why.

We really didn't care if our first child was a boy or a girl, and for the second and third we were only slightly more curious on the matter. But for some reason, I knew that the fourth child's gender (in our family's case) was going to make a big difference in the way our family dynamics would shape together. That doesn't mean we would've been disappointed either way. It's just that trying to imagine both scenarios painted completely different pictures. Would it be another sweet little girl, who would give us a four-to-one female/male ratio during the day? Or would it be another son, who would balance out the scales and give the kids another brother?

Knowing that the Lord knew this child and the number of their days before the foundation of the world gave me the comfort that I needed, but by golly, I was still nervous about finding out. Our family would be perfectly ordained the way God planned it...but what way did He plan?

We took our firstborn with us, and armed with caffeine, hoped the baby would cooperate. Sure enough, it did! But that sent us into a whole new slew of thoughts. Garfield, Emma, and I were all in a stupor for hours this afternoon as we let it sink in. So much to consider, now that we know! It was nice to spend the afternoon in prayer for this child in my womb, now being able to visualize him/her so much more, and having the time to process the reality of it all. Quite the delightful and blessed day.

Until next time...

...What's that you say? Oh? You'd like to know the gender, too? I'm sorry, I plum forgot that you might be interested in that little tidbit of information.

Well, if you care for me to share,
Think pink if you dare!
But I'll go *wink, wink*
Because our bundle of joy
Is a sweet baby boy!

(Thanks for playing along and reading this far.) :o)

↧

A dubious distinction

February 1, 2009, 6:40 pm

≫ Next: Easing back into bloggy world

≪ Previous: The weather and other such unimportant subjects--like sonograms ;)

From the mouth of my 6-year-old, Emma: "Mommy, I forgot. Is it lizards, or squirrels that when you hold them by their tail, the tail can break off and they'll grow a new one?"

I thought that was a hilarious mix-up, and couldn't get the visual out of my mind of a squirrel's tail just popping right off!

↧

Easing back into bloggy world

February 25, 2009, 2:24 pm

≫ Next: Our Tourism Queensland Applications

≪ Previous: A dubious distinction

You thought you were rid of me, huh? Well, it's not THAT easy! I just come and go on the blogosphere in spurts, like everything else in my life. C'mon, you should know that by now.

So anyway, starting off with a quick little post is always a good way to break myself back into the habit.

The other day the kids were feeling cooped up in the house, so I sent them out back to play. They'd not been out there ten minutes before deciding to lug our kennel to the porch, and play this little game:

At some points, they were all three in there, seemingly having a very important conference about something or another:

I guess being cooped up isn't all that bad if it's voluntary. And to think, I worry about their room being too small. Ha!

(Saaay...I DO like to blog, Sam I Am! More than I like green eggs and ham!
And I would blog up in a tree, so long as my children let me be.
And I will blog both day and night, and I will blog whilst offspring fight.
While they sleep, while they eat, I will blog---oh, what a treat!
And I will blog and ignore my doggy, I will blog while laundry's soggy.
Family can feed themselves, I'm sure, 'cause blogging really is the cure!
I WILL blog now, Sam, you see! As soon as these children will let me be.)

↧

Our Tourism Queensland Applications

February 27, 2009, 7:22 am

≫ Next: What we've been up to

≪ Previous: Easing back into bloggy world

G'day, Mate!

A few weeks ago, hubby and I heard about the "Best Job in the World" opening: a 6-month gig living as island caretaker on the Great Barrier Reef. Your duties include going on excursions around the islands and then reporting back to the world via blog, in order to promote tourism to Queensland, Australia. You also have to do minimal upkeep of the island (such as feeding fish and checking mail), in exchange for free stay in a gorgeous beach house. The pay is also nice.

Um, it took me about all of .02 seconds to start hyperventilating. Could a job like this really exist? We both looove this type of thing, especially since it includes diving and such, and we've always wanted to go to the Great Barrier Reef. Oh, wait. Neither of us could just up and go to Australia alone. But...hang on...keep reading....you can bring your family?! Honey, let's apply NOW!!!

I've got to admit, I've been shamefully obsessed with this idea ever since I heard about it. I had trouble falling asleep, working out all the logistics in my head. (The job starts 2 weeks after I'm due, but hey, it's a fourth baby. No biggie.) I'd dream about it. I'd wake up with a racing heartbeat just thinking about it. I was having fishy visions dancing in my head all the day long, and was teaching my 2-year-old to say "Great Barrier Reef". I was researching all the dangerous Australian animals that I needed to keep my children away from, lest they get eaten and/or poisoned. Ah, those were fun weeks just thinking about the possibilities!

And then the rubber met the road, and we had to put together our 60-second application videos. Tougher than one might think. You can't go a second over, lest you be disqualified. You're supposed to tell them why you're the best person for the job, exhibit an adventurous spirit (don't laugh---I have one, it's just temporarily buried), and show some island knowledge.

Here's Garfield's video (if you notice a crazy person either climbing up/jumping off large mountains in his pictures, that's my insane husband): watch Garfield's video

Did you remember to give him 5 stars? Ok, now mine: watch Steph's video

My dreams were pretty much shattered when 34,000 people from 200 countries ended up applying, but hey, it was an insanely fun idea while it lasted. They will announce the short list of 50 on Monday, so if you hear crying from my house, you'll know why.

↧

What we've been up to

March 13, 2009, 11:51 am

≫ Next: I can't promise I'll try, but I'll try to try

≪ Previous: Our Tourism Queensland Applications

Well, we didn't win a chance to go to Australia for 6 months, but that's ok. Once we saw who they picked for the Top 50, we knew it was the wrong gig for us---almost all their selections were late teen/early 20's single wild folk. Needless to say, we didn't fit the bill.

But we've had plenty of little adventures of our own around here. There have been tea parties on a blanket in the living room, complete with milk in tiny tea cups, Oreos, and blueberry coffee cake.

Getting to wash the tiny dishes herself was a treat for Emma.

We've had the construction of various buildings, such as this lovely cabin and stable. It must be comfy, because all our horses seem to be called to a nap.

We've spent time playing outside in our yard, and also meeting up with a group of friends from MOPS at a park. (Emma is her daddy's daughter, by the way. She shot up and over the top of this climbing wall like nothing, before I even realized she was on it.)

We visited a new batch of Siberian Huskies near my parents' house in Boerne. Emma, who lives for dogs, remarked on the way over there that, "Mommy, I can barely breathe because the butterflies in my tummy are so excited!" (Sorry, Grandfather. I didn't mean to chop you out of the picture.)

On the baby front, our little guy is rambunctious and growing steadily, and I already feel large as a barge at only 26 weeks. This picture was taken about two weeks ago, and I know I've grown since then.

And we also celebrated my incredible hubby's birthday last weekend with special dinners, flan, and peach cobbler. Happy birthday, Garfield! You're the best husband and Daddy in the world! Here's a video of Elizabeth explaining Daddy's birthday dessert.
Thanks for checking back in!

↧

I can't promise I'll try, but I'll try to try

April 14, 2009, 1:20 pm

≫ Next: But baby whales are cute, right?

≪ Previous: What we've been up to

Whew. It's been a month since my last post. That's got to be some sort of record. I won't promise to get back on the blogging bandwagon, since I have a good reason for falling off: I started using afternoon nap time to do lessons with Emma. Yep, this means that I no longer have that precious 1.5-2 hour break in the day with uninterrupted quiet time. Several things have gone the way of the Dodo in giving up that break, blogging included. But so far, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make in order to not have to worry about keeping the little one busy while I work with Emma. For now, it works.

So, I'll leave you with this little "interview" I conducted with Emma (age 6) and Garfield (age 3.5). I asked them these questions in private, and recorded their answers exactly as they gave them. I thought it was hilarious! Oh, and if you see anything in parenthesis, it's my two cents.

1. What is something mom always says to you?
Emma: I love you.
Garfield: I love you.

2. What makes mom happy?
Emma: For me to play with her hair.
Garfield: For me to clean up everything in our house, and when I be kind to Elizabeth, and when I obey.

3. What makes mom sad?
Emma: When I don’t obey.
Garfield: When I don’t obey you.

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
Emma: By tickling me.
Garfield: By being silly.

5. What was your mom like as a child?
Emma: Like me.
Garfield: Baby toys. (We figured out later that he probably thought I asked him what I liked as a child.)

6. How old is your mom?
Emma: 30.
Garfield: I forgot.

7. How tall is your mom?
Emma: The size of the middle tree in our backyard. (It's about 20 ft. tall!)
Garfield: All the way up to your forehead, but you’re bigger than me.

8. What is her favorite thing to do?
Emma: Take a nap.
Garfield: Clean up. And play with swords. (Um, yeah. Sure.)

9. What does your mom do when you're not around.
Emma: Sometimes go some places.
Garfield: Vacuum.

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
Emma: Relaxing. (Way to rat me out, Em!)
Garfield: For living with us.

11. What is your mom really good at?
Emma: Writing lists.
Garfield: Cleaning up.

12. What is your mom not very good at?
Emma: Jumping on the trampoline because she has a baby in her belly.
Garfield: Having a poofy dog in your ear. And vacuuming.

13. What does your mom do for her job?
Emma: She helps take care of the kiddos while Daddy’s at work.
Garfield: Vacuum.

14. What is your mom's favorite food?
Emma: Cauliflower w/ cheese.
Garfield: Chicken.

15. What makes you proud of your mom?
Emma: She gives me treats when Garfield goes potty.
Garfield: Vacuuming.

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
Emma: Kung Fu Panda. (That's me: fat, and into martial arts.)
Garfield: You. And me.

17. What do you and your mom do together?
Emma: Go on Girls’ Day Out.
Garfield: Play.

18. How are you and your mom the same?
Emma: We both have brown eyes.
Garfield: Black hair.

19. How are you and your mom different?
Emma: She has a bigger nose than me.
Garfield: Because I’m wearing grey, and you’re wearing black and blue.

20. How do you know your mom loves you?
Emma: Because she takes care of me.
Garfield: Because you take care of me.

21. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
Emma: The consignment store.
Garfield: Sea World and the zoo.

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But baby whales are cute, right?

June 17, 2009, 1:16 pm

≫ Next: Is this it?

≪ Previous: I can't promise I'll try, but I'll try to try

I hope so, because I'm the size of one. Here's a picture of me at around 38 weeks; I'm now 40 weeks and counting! (I will say, this photo is deceptive...my belly is really much bigger than it looks!)

Anyway, truth be told, I've temporarily lost interest in blogs--my blog, other peoples' blogs, the whole deal. My computer time's been slashed, so I've been going behind the blogosphere's back, and getting my "fix" over on Facebook. I don't consider myself to be an instant gratification person, but for a busy mom who only gets a few minutes at a time to hop online, FB gets me the quick updates. It doesn't give me the writing outlet I need, though, so I'm sure I'll be back to blogging once things get settled in with the new baby.

Speaking of which, you may have noticed I'm a couple of days past due. Oddly, I'm perfectly fine with that. I think the fear of impending pain outweighs any anxiety I have over wanting to get it over with. I've never been one to want to hurry labor along; they'll come when they're good and ready. Every extra day is just additional time to cash in on the unusual productive streaks that hit me as birth approaches. I'm wondering if my hubby's ulterior motives for wanting a big family have anything to do with knowing that his wife is suddenly uber-efficient on projects that I've been procrastinating on for months (or years)?

Our first two kids were a week early, and our third one was ten days late. So we'll see what this little guy does. This pregnancy has had some differences from the first three:

*The worst of the "morning" sickness was far more intense, but also shorter, this time.

*Even after the vomiting, etc. ended, I've felt a somewhat constant sense of indigestion throughout the pregnancy.

*My round ligaments have brought some really fun excruciating pain at random times, usually during the night.

*Varicose veins have made their debut on my legs, but I've been told they can disappear again after birth? We'll see.

Whoa...that list sounds like a whine-bag wrote it! So here are some good things:

*The timing of the pregnancy was new, and I got to be over the sickness just in time for the holidays, which made me really enjoy them.

*I've had no anxiety whatsoever this time about adding another child to the mix. I guess by number four, you realize the logistics will all work themselves out, and the new baby factor doesn't seem as daunting. I think it will be fun!

*The kids are all really looking forward to the baby. Even the youngest, who's not quite 2.5, loves to talk to him, tell me how cute he is, and says she can't wait to hold him and love on him.

My doctor just left town for a few days, and Garfield secured some work that he'd like to complete this week, so we'll be very happy if the baby decides to stay put until at least this weekend. But of course, whenever the Lord says it's time to meet our newest one, we'll be thrilled to do so! In the meantime, I'll just keep resting and nesting, and enjoying the other three.

Here are some random pics of the last month:

My birthday dinner date at The Vineyards

Garfield and the kids, having a blast in the kiddie pool

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Is this it?

June 18, 2009, 2:42 am

≫ Next: An update

≪ Previous: But baby whales are cute, right?

Hmmmm...I've been having contractions since yesterday evening. I went to bed at midnight, but they woke me up again at 3 a.m., so here I am, posting at this ungodly hour. I'd love to know within the next 2 hours if this is real labor so that we can determine if Hubby should go to work or not. (His project is clear across town, and involves picking up day laborers, so it would be quite a hassle for him to leave and be called back an hour later.)

Night owls can't be held responsible for any unintelligible writing they do in the wee hours of the morning, so I should end here for lack of coherent thought. If there's anything else to report, I'll try to check in.

↧

An update

June 18, 2009, 5:24 pm

≫ Next: Going to try and rest...

≪ Previous: Is this it?

For those of you who aren't on Facebook, here's the latest:

Contractions started getting farther apart this morning after I went back to bed, but have continued throughout the day---very irregularly. Just lately have I noticed they seem to be getting closer together again. We'll start timing them after the kids go down to see where we are. I do think all the things I've experienced today are part of latent labor, and that they will lead to active labor at some point. It doesn't seem like it's going to fizzle out altogether.

I'm used to these long, gradual labors. Wouldn't know what to do with a fast one...

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Going to try and rest...

June 18, 2009, 9:35 pm

≫ Next: Welcome Shepherd Landon Green!

≪ Previous: An update

It's about 11:30, and we're going to try and rest for awhile. But I have a feeling these contractions aren't gonna let me sleep. They've moved from 15 minutes apart to about 10 within 2 hours or so, and are becoming regular at 45 seconds long. This has to be the beginning of the end of pregnancy!

I'm guessing we'll be heading to the hospital sometime in the wee hours of the morning, and hopefully having this baby tomorrow! Grandfather is spending the night, so our childcare is in place, and we've prepped the kids that they may wake up to find out we're at the hospital. There are some apprehensions, but also a lot of excitement. They've waited an eternity for this baby---considering they have no concept of time!

I just wish my doctor wasn't out of town, but we're praying for a great on-call doc and fabulous nurses. Please join us in praying that all goes smoothly and that I can be strong!

↧

Welcome Shepherd Landon Green!

June 22, 2009, 4:12 pm

≫ Next: Some cuteness from Shepherd's first week

≪ Previous: Going to try and rest...

Well, as it turns out, it didn't really matter that my doctor was out of town, because she wouldn't have arrived in time to catch the baby, anyway! After a wild ride, narrowly missing a baby delivered by Daddy in the van, our fourth child was born just minutes after arriving at the hospital. But that's a whole other story. Let's get to the good stuff:

Shepherd Landon Green was born on Friday, June 19th, 2009, at 3:00 a.m. He weighed 5 lbs., 8 oz., and was 20 inches long. A little pipsqueak! He's got dark hair and baby grey eyes, both of which are very likely to change if our other children are any indication.

First picture, just moments after birth:

Proud Daddy:

Our family of six!

The kids were reluctant to share their new baby brother with their grandparents, and couldn't wait for their next turn to hold him:

Emma, the excellent big sister, with Shepherd:

Garfield with his new baby brother, who he hopes "will stay tiny forever":

Elizabeth's been claiming that "baby brother is so cuuuute!" and "I can't wait to love on him" for weeks now. She finally gets her chance:

Time to get this crew home!

Watching our kids love on their new brother with pure joy has been more of a delight than we ever expected. This child has plenty of hands to hold him, and is in danger of being smothered with kisses!

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Some cuteness from Shepherd's first week

June 27, 2009, 7:09 pm

≫ Next: Shepherd at (gulp) two weeks?!?

≪ Previous: Welcome Shepherd Landon Green!

My mom has stayed the week with us, which was a tremendous blessing! Our three "older" children have not really skipped a beat during this transition time, which has been wonderful. Having Grandmother to play with them and feed them has freed me up to pretty much just love on this precious little guy, and since we spend so much time nursing, it's been great to have the extra set of helping hands.

Emma is in love with her baby brother, and tries to steal him from me any time he's not nursing. She's really an invaluable helper to me:

Shepherd's such a little ball of baby. Here he is next to a pretty small remote control for size comparison:

And next to a ruler:

A little sun therapy while the other kids swam:

Another angle--the sweet feet:

Grandmother perfected her mousecakes, which the kids got to decorate themselves. "Marshmallows with our BREAKFAST?! Yippee!"

It's been a great first week, and I'm feeling beyond blessed!

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Shepherd at (gulp) two weeks?!?

July 3, 2009, 2:38 pm

≫ Next: The wild birth story

≪ Previous: Some cuteness from Shepherd's first week

There is no other two-week span that flies by more quickly than your child's first two weeks of life, I'm convinced. The first week is particularly fast and blurry. I'm guessing it's primarily caused by not wanting your newborn to be anything but a newborn--wanting time to stand still while you take in all the new facial expressions, the sweet smell, the itty bitty features, and etch the feeling of their tiny body in your arms for times in the future when they will be too big to hold.

You've gone through such a life-changing event, followed by the 'round the clock feeding, burping, changing. You are in a time warp, and quite often become slightly surprised to find out that the rest of the world is still moving along at their previous pace.

I suppose that's where I am now: disbelief. I can tell my little guy is filling out, but I'm still basking in his newness. It's hard to believe it's already been two weeks since that crazy night at the hospital, but at the same time, I'm having a hard time remembering, truly remembering, what life was like without him. I suppose that's how all-encompassing motherhood is with a new baby.

The Lord provided me with a sweet moment last night. Shepherd was born at 3 a.m., two weeks ago. Last night, he woke me up with his whimpers in the middle of the night. I looked at the clock, sure I had missed his exact two-week-old moment, but I hadn't! It was 2:52 a.m., and a smile spread across my face in the dark as I realized that exactly two weeks prior, I was pushing to get my little boy into my arms. I got to savor those minutes leading up to 3 a.m., and reflected on his birth. God is so good to understand that sappy sentimental mommies thrive on these small, precious moments.

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The wild birth story

July 10, 2009, 8:57 pm

≫ Next: Westley's Birth Announcement!

≪ Previous: Shepherd at (gulp) two weeks?!?

It was the longest of labors, it was the shortest of labors...

Wednesday, June 17th:

I was busy stalking two other pregnant friends who were in a race to the finish with me, and were now in labor. I kept checking their status online, and thought, "Huh...how funny...all this reading about labor is making me think I can almost feel contractions. No...wait...I DO feel contractions!" I found it interesting that instead of just being dull "practicy" ones, they actually caught my attention. A couple more happened that evening, which put me in excited mode. I let Garfield know he should probably plan to not work the next day.

3 a.m.: Woke up to more contractions, couldn't fall back asleep, figured this was it.

6 a.m.: Fell back to sleep after contractions puttered out. Woke up late the morning of the 18th quite confused, as the contractions seemed weaker and farther apart. Felt guilty for asking hubby to stay home for nothing.

Thursday, June 18th:

Weird day. How do you keep on functioning like nothing's going on when you're having random contractions all day? They were quite sporadic, and not lasting very long, so I still wasn't sure I was even in early labor. That's how very unconvincing these contractions were. I called my Dad, who lives 30 minutes away, and let him know that he may want to plan to spend the night since he might be getting a middle-of-the-night call. I did some napping, played with the kids, made dinner, ate dinner, prepped kids that they might wake up to find us at the hospital, took last family picture of 5 "just in case"...

10 p.m.: Dad arrived. I had just laid down on the couch with a notebook, curious to time these suckers and see if they had any rhyme or reason to them. They were 15-19 minutes apart, lasting about 45 seconds. No biggie. I don't like to leave for the hospital until they're about 4-5 minutes apart, 60 seconds long. We've got time.

11:30 p.m.: Garfield and I headed upstairs to "get some sleep in case we have to leave in the morning". Yeah. That worked. For about 2 seconds. Now the contractions were suddenly about 5-8 minutes apart. We threw some more things into our half-packed bags.

Friday, June 19th:

Midnight: No sooner had we climbed into bed when the contractions started flying at me much closer together. It's ok. I still have a handle on them. They're manageable, but I definitely know this is labor by now. Sorry, Honey, you can't fall asleep after all.

1 a.m.: First contraction to get away from me (read: I snap at poor hubby that he'd better kick up his coaching into high gear, or else...). Are these seriously just 2-3 minutes apart? What the heck is going on? I'm usually the world's slowest laborer! I call the doctor's phone service to let them know we'd be coming in. They assure me that if I know I'm in labor, I just need to show up, and congratulate me on the impending birth. They probably laughed a maniacal laugh at their cruel joke after hanging up with me.

1 a.m-2a.m.: Fastest hour ever to pass, as we desperately try to grab the last few things from the checklist between suddenly killer contractions. There's not even enough time between them to go to the bathroom. An experience I don't recommend. Garfield's grabbing his coffee, I give a quick thought to putting on a bit of makeup for the pictures. Immediately scratch that idea.

2 a.m.: Rush out the door in a mad panic, barely taking the time to let Dad know we were leaving. Pray out loud, desperately, that the Lord would let this baby slow down long enough to let us make it in time. Climb in van, trying not to think about how in the world I could already be feeling an urge to push.

Our traditional "heading to the hospital" shot, taken in a frantic rush. Note the fear in my eyes.

2:10 a.m.: Calmly ask Garfield if he could please drive just a wee bit faster. My teeth were chattering (it's 100 degrees outside), so he turns down the a/c. I don't tell him that it's because I'm in transition, lest he become as panicked as I was.

2:15 a.m.: We wait at an interminable red light, through an excruciating contraction. Why on earth we didn't run the light is beyond me. Middle of the night, and in labor. Doesn't that give you the right to violate traffic laws?!?

2:20 a.m.: Arrive at hospital, but can't make it to the door without stopping for a contraction. Door is LOCKED. Are you kidding me?!? Fighting tears as the security guard comes to let us in, and has the nerve to hold us up by asking for hubby's id. Listen, Mister. Unless you know how to deliver a baby, you had BETTER speed this up. I am SO not naming the baby after you! I envision the headlines: "Baby born in hospital elevator, crazed mother strangles security guard".

2:30 a.m.: Arrive at the Labor & Delivery unit, just sure that this kid is going to fall out right onto the wheelchair. The bewildered nurses ask me if I called ahead. "Yes, and they told me there was no need to notify you directly, but I'm guessing they were wrong?" They exchange nervous glances.

I get into a room and tell my nurse that I either really need to pee, or I need to push, but this being my fourth baby, I'm guessing it's push. This apparently is a good way to avoid filling out all that paperwork during labor, by the way. She checks me, and I'm 7 cm dilated. I roll onto my right side, and less than five minutes later I'm 9 cm dilated. Did I mention that I'm usually the world's slowest laborer?!

My home away from home, a Northeast Baptist L&D room

The next few minutes were quite exciting. I now have five nurses helping us, and no doctor in sight. (My doc was out of town, so they were trying to get a hold of the doc on call.) I can tell that Shepherd's head was all but out. The water bag was the only thing holding him back. I keep begging for them to break my water, but they tell me that only the doctor is allowed to do that. Then where the heck is the stinkin' doctor?? The nurses accuse me of still having my sense of humor.

(Later, Garfield tells me that the nurses were whispering with concern about not being able to reach the doctor. Apparently his wife was also unaware of his whereabouts, and was not pleased about being woken up at 2:30 a.m. Garfield also told me later that a kind nurse had mercy on me, and might have "accidentally" snipped my water bag.)

The doctor didn't have time to make it to the scene, so the nurses got the excitement of delivering! Almost simultaneously with my water breaking, I can feel Shepherd's head emerge, and then his little slippery body just squirmed right out. That right there has got to be the best feeling in the world. It was 3 a.m., just half an hour after arriving in the hospital room, and only two hours after my first really difficult contraction. I was nursing my sweet baby before I'd even had time to process the fact that we'd left home.

Whew! A little too close for comfort, even for someone who likes to do most of her laboring at home. And so goes the story of Shepherd Landon Green's arrival.

All slicked up, and nowhere to go

Our little glow-worm

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Westley's Birth Announcement!

June 27, 2011, 9:33 pm

≫ Next: A Fresh Start

≪ Previous: The wild birth story

Isn't this too cute? We love our Woozle.

Stationery card

View the entire collection of cards.

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A Fresh Start

January 2, 2013, 9:49 am

≫ Next: A Year with Type 1

≪ Previous: Westley's Birth Announcement!

Whoa. Did I just hit the "New Post" button on my blog? It's been three and a half years since I've done that. Three and a half years that I feel like I've lost, for various reasons that I quit blogging. Most of those reasons seem silly now, but at the time I thought I was doing the right thing.

So here I am, attempting to breathe life back into something that was so therapeutic for me years ago.

I love the feel of a new start. The Lord's mercies are new each morning, and I'm grateful that He gives repetitive order to our lives. Night follows day, again and again. Seasons repeat themselves, bringing comfort and predictability to our year. Calendars come to a close, and even though there's only one day between us and the previous year, we somehow feel as if all things can start afresh.

So as I lay in my bed on New Year's Day morning, making a puppy pile with my husband and two littlest boys, all of us sleeping due to illness in our home, the groggy thought popped into my head: "Blog again." I have no idea why now, but seeing as it seems as good a time as any, I decided to listen to my foggy brain. I'll try to ignore the nagging feeling of sunk cost---all the years I missed out on blogging---and try to instead redeem and preserve the memories from here on out.

Life, with all it's good, and all it's bad, is a story. We should tell that story.

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A Year with Type 1

January 3, 2013, 9:42 pm

≫ Next: Kid Interview (from May 2012)

≪ Previous: A Fresh Start

A year ago today, our firstborn, Emma Catherine, was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. Diagnosed by a doctor, that is. Mommy instinct had told me months prior that that's what she had...that's why she was needing to go to the bathroom constantly, drinking water like she was in the middle of the desert.

Ignorance caused me to suppress that personal diagnosis, although I had already told my husband and some family members that I was pretty sure she had it. "Let's just make it through the holidays first, ok? We don't want to put a damper on things." Then, "We just need to get through this wedding we're all in on December 30th. Wouldn't want to miss out on any of those festivities. We'll make an appointment when we're through with that."

So make an appointment we did, and the Lord was gracious to us. Little did I know, my procrastinating could've landed us in the hospital with a coma on our hands. That's the way many kids first find out they are diabetic. Instead, we were able to have her blood sugars tested with our family practice doctor, who at first said that she didn't appear to have diabetes.

Later that afternoon, we got the call. The suspicions were correct, her blood sugars were way too high for a child who'd been fasting, and here was the name and number of the pediatric endocrinologist that we needed to see immediately.

So it began...the whirlwind diabetic boot camp that saw us sitting in a specialist's office for two full days. Two full days of still trying to process the diagnosis, two full days of blood being taken from a very scared and confused child, two brain-swimmingly full days of trying to comprehend what they were trying to help us learn---the ways in which our lives were about to forever be different.

We practiced giving each other shots in the office so we could be assured we knew how to give them (and that they really didn't hurt). We learned about counting carbs, and counter-balancing them with insulin. The crash course was necessary, since you have to dive in and start correcting high blood sugar right away. We'd check her blood sugar and give her four shots a day, effective immediately.

I remember it all like it was a few weeks ago. Suddenly I felt like watching her put food in her mouth was equivalent to watching her eat poison. Eating out, which we had to do between appointments, was ridiculously scary, since their food didn't have nutrition labels on it. I needed to balance out that sugar, but I didn't yet understand how.

I was afraid I would permanently damage her by doing something wrong. I panicked several times, though not in front of her. I cried...no, wailed...to my husband that second night, because I couldn't fathom that God thought I could take this on. Not me, who was already perpetually overwhelmed by the humbling task of parenting and home-educating these five children.

(This is Emma Catherine captured in a scene where the Lord gave me peace...told me we'd be okay. She's asleep in my bed loving on her new diabetic bear that her doctor gave her. "Foofie" is his name, and he wears a medic alert bracelet, and has patches on all the places where he can get shots.)

God's grace was evident throughout. He graciously allowed us to be diagnosed without a traumatic experience. He graciously allowed Emma Catherine, who previously would cry about things like getting her blood pressure taken, to act like a brave hero about those shots. He got us through the hardest part---those first few weeks---with relative smoothness.

And He's seen us through this year.

Thank you, Lord.

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Kid Interview (from May 2012)

January 5, 2013, 2:17 pm

≫ Next: Westley is 2!

≪ Previous: A Year with Type 1

So my last post was a bit heavy. I thought we could use some lightening up around here, so here's a great interview you can do with your kids every so often. Get them each in the room alone with you for a very important interview, and try not to howl at their answers.

When I did this a few years ago, we had quite a few answers relating to vacuuming. This time around, screaming and tickle-torturing seem to be the popular themes.

Kid Interview conducted with Emma Catherine (age 9.5), Garfield (age 6½), Elizabeth (age 5), and Shepherd (age 2 ¾):

1. What is something mom always says to you?
Emma Catherine: I love you.
Garfield: I love you.
Elizabeth: Clean up because it’s dirty.
Shepherd: Don’t scream.

2. What makes mom happy?
Emma Catherine: Brushing her hair.
Garfield: When we’re sharing and being kind to each other, and when we’re loving on you, and when we come in the morning and snuggle with you in bed.
Elizabeth: By hugging her and kissing her and obeying right away.
Shepherd: That we cannot scream and being playful.

3. What makes mom sad?
Emma Catherine: When we’re growing up.
Garfield: When we’re being mean, and when we have to get spankings.
Elizabeth: Disobeying her.
Shepherd: Screaming.

(Does this look like the face of a screamer/trouble-maker?)

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
Emma Catherine: Singing funny songs.
Garfield: By playing the blue crab game and playing with us, and kissing us all up, and steamroller smooch.
Elizabeth: By tickling me.
Shepherd: Tickle torture.

5. What was your mom like as a child?
Emma Catherine: You were an adventuring kid.
Garfield: You liked it and you were playing, and you would go to your grandfather’s house and pick tangerines and oranges.
Elizabeth: A little girl and playful.
Shepherd: Grandad Green and Grandma Jan gave you a little pony.

6. How old is your mom?
Emma Catherine: 33.
Garfield: 39? 31?
Elizabeth: 80.
Shepherd: I don’t know.

7. How tall is your mom?
Emma Catherine: 100 pounds? Or is that too fat? I don’t know.
Garfield: Taller than the office desk, and not as tall as a door, but you can reach the top of the window in the office.
Elizabeth: About 3 feet.
Shepherd: WERY big!

8. What is her favorite thing to do?
Emma Catherine: Loving on us.
Garfield: Stay home and play with us and do fun stuff with us, and resting.
Elizabeth: Play with us and stuff.
Shepherd: Tickle torture.

9. What does your mom do when you're not around.
Emma Catherine: Organize.
Garfield: Work---office work, and go out to places because you usually don’t bring us to HEB.
Elizabeth: Washes dishes.
Shepherd: You get scared.

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
Emma Catherine: Being loving.
Garfield: That’s kind of a tough one.
Elizabeth: Kissing me.
Shepherd: Jesus.

11. What is your mom really good at?
Emma Catherine: Piano.
Garfield: Typing. You do it super fast without looking.
Elizabeth: Cooking.
Shepherd: Tickle torture.

12. What is your mom not very good at?
Emma Catherine: Running super fast, and cartwheels. I’ve never seen you run fast before.
Garfield: At being mean.
Elizabeth: Pogo stick because you always do one jump and then fall off.
Shepherd: Not tickle torture.

13. What does your mom do for her job?
Emma Catherine: Takes care of us.
Garfield: You work on the computer, or helping Daddy with his jobsite stuff, kind of telling him what he should type.
Elizabeth: Wash dishes and clean them and stuff.
Shepherd: You tickle torture me.

14. What is your mom's favorite food?
Emma Catherine: Salmon.
Garfield: Do you like mashed potatoes? I don’t really know.
Elizabeth: Orange chicken.
Shepherd: Salad.

15. What makes you proud of your mom?
Emma Catherine: For how well she cleans.
Garfield: That you’re my mommy.
Elizabeth: You make Mickey Mouse pancakes and it’s hard to do that, and you make round crabby patties…I mean, what is it called? Salmon patties.
Shepherd: Not spanking me.

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
Emma Catherine: Beaker.
Garfield: Maybe Daffy Duck.
Elizabeth: I tink the Tweety bird on Looney Tunes because he’s cute and funny and says, “Did I just see a Puddy Tat? Yes, I did see a Puddy Tat!”
Shepherd: A monster! And you would eat me, and I would run away from you.

17. What do you and your mom do together?
Emma Catherine: Go on dates.
Garfield: We play together, and I love going places with you, and playing games like finding Grandpa Looky.
Elizabeth: Cook and play, and I love to bake cookies together.
Shepherd: Tickle torture.

18. How are you and your mom the same?
Emma Catherine: We both love back scratches.
Garfield: We both have brown eyes.
Elizabeth: We both have brown hair.
Shepherd: Family.

19. How are you and your mom different?
Emma Catherine: I love to train dogs, and you’re not too big on it.
Garfield: You’re a girl and I’m a boy, you have long hair I have short hair, you do girl stuff, I do boy stuff.
Elizabeth: Pecause of our eyes.
Shepherd: Not family.

20. How do you know your mom loves you?
Emma Catherine: Because you give me Rocky Rocky, and plenty of love.
Garfield: Because you play with us and snuggle with us, and give us Rocky-rocky, which I love, you read us books, and I love that stuff.
Elizabeth: Because she kisses and hugs me and always tells me that.
Shepherd: Because you love.

21. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
Emma Catherine: La Madeleine, or Schlotzsky’s, Bed Bath & Beyond, and the beach.
Garfield: Taco C, the Dollar Store, Schlotzsky’s.
Elizabeth: Taco C.
Shepherd: Schlotzsky’s

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Westley is 2!

January 8, 2013, 11:10 pm

≫ Next: Elizabeth's 6th birthday--Tea Party Style

≪ Previous: Kid Interview (from May 2012)

Our silly, chubby, clown of a baby turned two today, and it was a very sweet day. The weather was almost exactly like the day we brought him home from the hospital---cold, cloudy, and wet. (Except on the way home from the hospital, we were crazy enough to stop by Costco for lunch and some shopping. "You know you're a veteran parent when...")

Westley is our resident goofball, doing crazy things both for our entertainment, and even when he doesn't realize anyone is watching him. Odd little shuffle-walks, squinched-up faces, and impromptu wiggling of his fingers in the air like he's tickling someone are some of his tricks. He also has a fearsome fencing stance, and a mighty roar, just to keep up his reputation as a tough guy.

He still nurses, and we call him the "all-terrain nurser", because he will drink while laying down, sitting down, standing up, or upside down. Really. (Side note: between the last two babies, I've nursed every day for more than 3 1/2 years now. That's got to be some sort of record, right?)

He is hitting that 2-year-old verbal explosion, acquiring new words every day. He's able to put two words together, such as "read...book", or "eat...cake". He got really good at that second one tonight as he caught sight of all that sugar. His favorite article of clothing is shoes, which he pronounces "yooz", and he scrambles to put his yooz on any time he thinks someone in the family may be going bye-bye.

The kids still treat him like he's a little baby. Ok, to be honest, we all do. They fight over who's going to get him out of his crib, they make him scream by smothering him with affection, and tonight everyone wanted to sit next to him for his birthday dinner. I must admit, for all the insanity that comes with having lots of kids, the sweetest part as a parent is getting to see their love for one another.

We decided Westley probably wanted Chick-fil-A for his birthday dinner (which he showed his approval of by plowing through his meal and then requesting us to go buy him more). Then we came back home for cake and ice cream with grandparents. His older siblings remarked that "it was their best birthday EVER!", which is funny---low-key, homemade cake, two simple gifts. Thankfully, they're easy to please.

I feel compelled to write a little about Westley's birth, since he sort of missed that whole post during my blogging hiatus.

Remember the wild birth story of our fourth child? The exciting one where Shepherd was almost born on the side of the road? Well, we'll just think of it this way---if Shepherd was the Hare, Westley was most definitely the Tortoise.

We were determined to not cut it quite so close this time, and assured the new midwife that we weren't planning to take chances. As much as I loved to do most of the laboring at home, we intended to make it in plenty of time this go 'round. And that we did. In fact, this was my first pregnancy to ever have a dry run to the hospital. That's right, folks. The fifth-time mom was just sure she was in labor, and headed in to have a baby. Only to not have a baby. It was cold, it was late, and of course, the hospital was locked. (We seem to have a theme going with that.) Only THIS time, because we were delivering at a new hospital, we actually went so far as to head to an entirely different building than the one we were supposed to be at, so it's a good thing it wasn't delivery time.

(Doesn't this look like a fake belly?!?)

Take 2: a week later, contractions are convincing again, and we head back in. I'm really calm, so they don't take me very seriously. I get that patronizing "ok, honey, we'll send you to triage to check you in a minute." While I'm back there, I debate as to whether I should fake like I'm out of control so I can get a little attention from the nurses. I decide against it, and eventually the midwife is there and they do a check. "Wow, you're 7 centimeters! But you look so composed!" Yes, ladies, that is what I've been trying to tell you. They knew I wanted to have a natural childbirth again, so thankfully no one tried pushing anything on me.

So here's the deal. This is real labor. Only, because I had so much amniotic fluid, and because my uterus just wasn't in prime shape any more, the contractions were doing no more good than if they were squeezing on a really strong water balloon. For hours. And hours. Aaaaand hours. Fifth baby, the fourth one sprinted his way out, so what's the deal, kid?

This was a tiring labor, physically and mentally. The progress was so slow, and I wasn't used to working for hours through contractions with such little movement toward the goal. It stopped being fun after awhile. Eventually, I let the midwife talk me into breaking my waterbag of steel, which is always what keeps me from delivery. Every time, I know it will help get me to the end, yet every time, I'm so scared to let them do it. (Well, except for with Shepherd, because I was already at the end with him, and I knew I could be done in a matter of minutes if only the water would break.)

So Niagara Falls was let loose, and that big ol' baby finally started deciding to do his part. The progress was still slower than normal, but at least we were getting somewhere. It came time to push, and we stalled out yet again. Why was this guy so stubborn? Then the head showed itself, but the ever-calm midwife was hiding some concern---the cord was wrapped around his neck, so she tended to that.

Usually after the baby's head is born, the body is only a push away, but not with this little guy! He was still taking his sweet time. Only after he came out did we figure out why. He was huge! Well, huge for me. My babies had all been in the 5 1/2 or 6 pound range, but Westley was 8 pounds. I was too tired and shaky to even hold him after such a long labor, so I just stared in disbelief at that scale. Who WAS this chubby little dude, and what had he done with my typical peanut of a baby?

I remember how heavy he felt. Of course, it was love at first sight. He was worth the drawn-out labor, the stretch marks that I'd finally earned, and being the size of a house for the last few months of pregnancy. (p.s. This was the first pregnancy that I wasn't sick as a dog, so now we know what happens when you don't throw up for your first few months---all that extra nutrition really makes for a plump baby!)

Please don't think I expect you to still be reading. I just need to chronicle this next part because it was such a noteworthy time for our family. You know those routine newborn screening tests they do to check the baby for genetic abnormalities? The ones you just assume will come out normal? Well, sometimes they don't. We got a call late one evening when Westley was just a few days old. Our pediatrician was letting us know that Westley had tested positive for an abnormality called "Biotinidase Deficiency". It means that his body couldn't make it's own Vitamin B7 (Biotin), which is an essential trace nutrient. He needed to be seen by a genetic metabolic specialist to see if the test results were correct, because if they were, permanent damage could be done to his hearing, and if the problem weren't corrected in time (quickly!), he would begin having seizures that meant it was too late. Even if we began treatment after that, his hearing would be gone, and death could follow soon after.

No need to panic, right? Wrong. The specialist couldn't see us any time soon. Really. He was the only one in the state that dealt with this problem, and he was only in town on Mondays. Of course, his Mondays were booked out for months. Even after talking repeatedly to a very kind nurse, there was no chance of an appointment in time to stop this freight train that I was just certain was going to take my ticking time bomb of a baby any day now. So the nurse tells me that in the meantime, we just need to start him on Biotin treatments, which we could do with a prescription from our pediatrician. Sounded simple enough.

That is, it WOULD have been simple if our doctor was in town to prescribe it. Thus began the frantic search for anyone who could help us get a hold of our records from that one office, and get prescription-strength Biotin in our hands. Meanwhile, the lab that was performing our second round of bloodwork (to determine if the first results were incorrect) was taking for.ev.er. I called them as often as I thought prudent, only to be told that those results take weeks to come in. Are you feeling my pain yet? To say it was a tense few weeks of agonizing stress is an understatement.

I'll fast forward a bit, though, and take you to our answered prayer. Finally, after what really was a ridiculously long wait for lab results, we heard the news we'd been praying for: the second screening came out negative. Apparently, when the phlebotomists are taking those blood samples, if they don't let them dry all the way on that little sheet of paper before sealing the baggie, it frequently shows up as a false positive. Who knew? Who knew that a lab worker's haste that day would cause our family's world to turn upside down for over a month, costing us so much anxiety and quite a bit of money?

I'll tell you what, though. I will never again take for granted a normal test result. It is a beautiful thing. We are fearfully and wonderfully made by our Lord, and when you think of all that has to go right in order for a healthy baby to be born, it's staggering that we should think of it as anything but miraculous.

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Elizabeth's 6th birthday--Tea Party Style

January 19, 2013, 10:40 pm

≫ Next: Growing Pains

≪ Previous: Westley is 2!

"Mommy, how many more days until my boathday NOW?" I've heard that question countless times over the last month. This child started counting down to her birthday way earlier than she should've, which made the wait almost interminable for her. We discussed her plans, her gift requests, her updated gift requests, her altered gift requests, her food requests, and her gift requests again. She hyperventilated a little each time she had thoughts of what it would be like to be living her birthday, and her blue eyes just sparkled at the idea of it all.

Talk about pressure for a mom. We like to keep things fairly simple, although we do like to make a big deal out of our kids' birthdays. (I think some of that comes from feeling that in a big-ish family, it's a good chance to focus on just one child at a time, and give them extra love and attention.) Thankfully, without much convincing from us, our kids have chosen family celebrations over big birthday parties with lots of guests involved. I prefer that, because then I get to actually spend my time with my birthday child, rather than handling the details involved with hosting a big party. (I tend to get a little stressed with those sorts of things. I already know my children's weddings are going to send me over the edge.)

So I hope today wasn't a let-down for Elizabeth. I really don't know if anything could've lived up to the expectations I'm guessing she had, but she's a sweet little spirit, and she seemed happy. I think just the fact that her sister made her bed for her this morning was enough to make her day!

Elizabeth is our quietest child, and frankly, she's just stinkin' lovable and easy to be around. She constantly professes her love and shows affection, she is easily pleased, and she is generally very agreeable. She loves her stuffed animals (particularly "Pips" the hamster---short for "Pipsqueak"), doing arts and crafts, being read to, and the color yellow. She is not afraid of much, and there have been times her older siblings have called on her to handle something they're not brave enough to deal with (like squishing a bug). She is compassionate, and has always been very conscientious for her age. She was born almost 2 weeks late, and hasn't sped up since. She is also the one who says that if she has to grow up and get married, she promises she will either live with us, or next door to us. I'd love for that to happen.

Today was all about her. Emma Catherine did her chores for her, she opened presents, we had her requested breakfast (orange danish rolls and eggs), and then we finished preparing for her tea party. I say "finished preparing", because the majority of yesterday was spent getting things ready for her tea party, as well. (By the way, if any of your children ever decide that penguin cake pops would be a great idea, I urge you to convince them otherwise, unless you happen to have a week to spare.)

The tea party was fun, although the male-folk crashed it a bit by discussing guns at the table. Apparently they weren't very well-versed in tea party etiquette. Grandmother and Grandfather spent most of the day with us, which included watching a movie together and having dinner at Whataburger.

By the end of the day, we were all so tired and sugared-up that we didn't even bother with cake and ice cream! (Something to look forward to tomorrow.) But you can't have a birthday without blowing out candles, so we made do.

Lord, thank you for our sweet middle child. Thank you for the joy she adds to our lives, and the calm presence she offers. Thank you for her sweet character, her thoughtfulness toward others, and her love for her siblings and parents. Father, please continue to draw her heart toward You, and may she grow to be a faithful woman of God, a loving wife, and a devoted mother.

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Growing Pains

January 23, 2013, 10:54 pm

≫ Next: Boredom Busters--homemade clay

≪ Previous: Elizabeth's 6th birthday--Tea Party Style

Our 3-year-old commonly wakes up in the middle of the night crying because of growing pains. I rub his little legs, give him Ibuprofen, tell him he's getting taller, and cover him back up. These pains have been an issue with all our children around this age, and if you think back to what it was like to have your bones elongating, it's no wonder the pain brings about tears in little people.

Thankfully, the pain us not constant, and it's just gradual enough to where your child doesn't usually look taller in the morning. From one month to the next, their pants are shorter, though, so the evidence is certainly there. Growth took place. Tears and pain were endured, but it was not in vain.

As Christians, we should be looking out for growing pains all our lives. Perhaps not the physical kind, but the emotional and spiritual variety. When the Holy Spirit is at work in our lives, we will not remain stagnant and unchanged. We may not see our growth from one day to the next, but often we will feel the stretch, the pain, the discomfort or unsettledness. This may even be accompanied by tears and sleepless nights.

Hopefully, over the years, those who know us will be able to see the evidence of growth in our lives. We may be more patient, more gentle, more joyful. Perhaps where we were once quick to pass judgement, we are able to reach out in love. Maybe what once would've ruffled our feathers or had us completely stressed out will now be seen as an opportunity to exercise faithfulness.

Growth, at least spiritual growth, doesn't just happen because years pass by. You may know people who are mature in years, but have no more spiritual maturity or evidence of the fruit of the Spirit than they did decades before. Being older certainly doesn't automatically make you wiser or more godly.

So how do we grow? Through our trials. The words of the workout instructor on a DVD I recently purchased are true: "Don't be afraid of the pain. Getting through the discomfort is what makes your body react and respond, and begin to change."

There's not going to be much growth if we aren't willing to endure the growing pains. But take heart, my friend, for "blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him." James 1:12

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Boredom Busters--homemade clay

February 1, 2013, 9:52 pm

≪ Previous: Growing Pains

Here in this part of Texas, we experienced approximately 3.4 days of winter this year, and I must say we weathered them quite well. Aside from having massive hot cocoa overdoses, this was partly due to having requests to pull out the Homemade Clay recipe. It's really not that messy (for all you OCD moms), and you probably have all the ingredients on hand. If you ARE a bit perfectionistic, you may not care for my ingredient amounts...they take a bit of "tweaking", but mostly because clay seems to vary in consistency from one batch to the next.

Homemade Clay

1 cup salt
1/2 cup water (to start with...you will add approx. 1/2 cup more later)
2 T. oil (baby oil is great for the smell, but cooking oil works just fine)
2 cups flour

Mix well. Add more water bit by bit, until a soft, but not runny, dough forms. It will stick to your hands a little, but should be pliable. Divide, and add drops of food coloring. Mix until you arrive at "dinosaur green", or penguin foot yellow", etc. (You may also want to leave part of the batch off-white.)

Let your children sculpt to their heart's content. Have a baking sheet ready for them to put their finished works of art on. Bake at 250 degrees until clay formations are hard. This usually takes about 45 min. or more, depending on how thick/big the creations are.

Your more serious artist may surprise you with their talent, and if all else fails, you will end up with clay snakes and worms. Lots of snakes and worms.

(This is a shot of my children catching snowflakes on their tongues. What's that, you say? You can't see any snowflakes? Well, trust me, they were there. I think we counted 17.)

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