This time last year

Seems to be a reflective time of year.  Watching a baby's first birthday come hurtling towards you makes you think about the past year, too.  This time last year:

• I was great with child, emotionally and physically exhausted
  
• My husband was traveling for work one week a month, finishing his first semester of grad school, and putting the finishing touches on a backyard office building that he constructed "in his spare time"
• My sweet 2-year-old was still sleeping in her crib, in diapers
• We were new in town, desperate for connection, aching for the family and friends-that-had-become-family we had left behind

This time last year I was in the pit of despair.  I have never been so lonely, felt so isolated or alone.  It was my first move since we'd had kids and that made it an entirely different sort of beast.  Never mind the pregnancy hormones that took me captive and beat my brain to a pulp.  Add to that a small town that is fiercely prideful of its own traditions and cliques of adults who have walked the gauntlet of college life together.  I felt every bit of Psalm 69:2, "I sink in the miry depths, where there is no foothold.  I have come into the deep waters; the floods engulf me."  I cried out to God for mercy, knowing I had reached the end of my endurance.

This time last year, we called three different couples to invite them to our house for New Year's Eve.  We were turned down by the first two; but God had saved the best for last.  It was this time last year that He sent a sweet family to our house that we could not possibly have had more in common with.  We were encouraged, affirmed, and reassured.  It was also about this time that another mom in town called me out of the blue "just to see how you're doing."  I wept when I hung up because someone had thought of me.  This time last year I began to see the surface of the pit.

I praise God that this year I can say "He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand." (Psalm 40:2)  In the depths of my heart, I knew that He would.  I knew He would deliver me and that the pit would grow my heart closer to His.  But that is so hard to see when you're in the pit.  Note to self - when you're on the surface, enjoying the prosperity of life as usual, scan the perimeter every now and then.  New face in the crowd?  Say hello, invite them to lunch, call them to see how they're doing.  Especially if they're pregnant.

Thank you, God, for the pit.  Thank you for pulling me out of it.  Please keep my heart sensitive to the needs of those on the perimeter.  Help me to see others who might be experiencing the pit and use me as you will to love them.

Twelve Years

J and I had the immense blessing of being able to get away by ourselves for 24 hours to celebrate our twelfth wedding anniversary this past weekend.  While away, we reminisced about what we were doing to prepare for the wedding.  I'm sure I was vascilliating between giggling and crying with my closest friends as they helped me get dressed and direct the show from a back room.  He confided that two of his groomsmen were trying to convince him to drive to Mexico before it was too late, one was asking if he could ask me out if J did drive to Mexico, and one ever-present voice of reason in that motley group was telling them to leave him alone.  He assured me that he was never tempted to run, and I'm so glad he chose to stay. 

God is so wise, so compassionate, so merciful, tender and loving.  He demonstrated His character to me when He chose my husband and brought us together.  J brings out the best in me, makes me rise up to meet my potential.  He also knows me so well that he can provide rest for me before I even know I need it.  He challenges me to grow more like Christ and won't let me cling to the weaknesses of my flesh, no matter how proud I am of them.  He loves to give me good gifts and will give up his own desires to accommodate mine.  It thrills me to know that our marriage is not done growing.  We've grown into each other so well and God has been so good to us.  I love getting to know you, J, and I look forward to what God has in store for the years to come.

Annual State of the Family

For inquiring minds who have found their way here via our Christmas card, here's a recap of 2009 highlights to catch you up on our family.

J is finishing his third semester of grad school,  pursuing a PhD in Computer Science. He thrives in academia and is really looking forward to the opportunity to guest lecture in his advisor's classes next spring. He quit corporate life in July to pursue entrepreneurship. He is now CEO, chief cook and bottle washer of Phodder. He has two other guys working with him and business is good enough that they are considering hiring another full-time employee. God has been really good to provide for the first few months of being self-employed and we're looking forward to what He has in store for the next year as well.

A is 3 going on 13. We are doing a preschool homeschool curriculum together this year and she's really interested in the sounds that letters make and figuring out words. She never ceases to amaze us with her vocabulary. Browse around the blog a bit and you'll find her latest antics. We can't possibly play with her too often, watch her too much, or listen too closely to satiate her desire for grown-up interaction. Just this month, she has started making up her own songs and sometimes they even make sense. Some of the "firsts" she has experienced this year include staying in a hotel, going to a carnival, sleeping over at Grandma's, Disney Live, swimming lessons, flying a kite, riding a bus, swinging by herself, and last but not least, being a big sister.

C is weeks away from being one. I just did a pretty thorough post for her 11-month birthday, so I won't repeat too much here. Suffice it to say, she's a whole lotta cute.

And me? Well, I keep all of the above humming. This year, I've made time to start a new bunko group and I'm also coordinating a playgroup for our class at church. We attend a small group Bible study as a family and I also attend a weekly ladies' Bible study. Those activities definitely spackle together the loose edges that seem to unravel after a day's worth of domesticity. Oh, and I've started blogging. If you'd like to keep up with us all year, you can subscribe to the blog and have posts sent to your email.

Your turn...I'd love to hear from you, especially if we haven't seen each other in a while. You can leave a comment below this post or jot me an email (my address hasn't changed). God has been so good to us, blessing us more than we could ever ask or imagine with incredible relationships along our life journey. Hearing from you provides a wonderful opportunity to praise Him for His faithfulness.

Merry Christmas! May 2010 bring you closer to the heart of Christ.

And that's the truth

There's so much to say, but I think it's best to let her stand on her own for this one.

11 Months

I remember when A was a newborn, other moms would tell me to savor every moment because it goes by so fast. My internal narrator would scream, "NO! It is crawling by in torturous, sleep-derived seconds!" Going from no babies to one baby was like moving to Mars--other worldy, wholly foreign, culture shock. Adding a second baby was not nearly as dramatic a change. For the most part, we knew what to expect and how to respond. Her little life merged into ours much more smoothly. Now I can echo the other moms' sentiment that those tender moments really do fly by and before you now it, the first year is almost gone. Today is C's 11-month birthday.

I had predicted that she would be walking by Christmas, but I think that was premature. She is crawling really fast, especially when she's heading for the roll of toilet paper. That has got to be hands-down her favorite contraband. I was doing dishes the other day when A yelled at me, "Mom, I need your help." I finished up the dish I was on and dried my hands before going to see what she needed. Baby girl had unrolled the entire roll of toilet paper and big sister was trying to get it all in the toilet. The closer I got, the faster C's little hands pulled. I could hear her speed up and start squealing. Ha! I just realized what we're getting her for Christmas...one of those free-standing toilet paper holders and a mega roll of Scott tissue! (I told J that idea and he said it would be even better if it would roll itself back up. Why doesn't someone make that as a toy?! You could market it to babies and cats. Brilliant!)

Less forbidden are the balls of baby socks that she loves to play with. She's been pretty grouchy lately when she gets up from her second nap, so I cuddle her and let her play in my lap until she's ready to ease into the afternoon. I handed her a couple of socks one time and she must have played in my lap for half an hour with those socks, hiding them in any little crevice she could find, stuffing them under her own leg, then pulling them right back out again. Socks are good friends right now. She really hasn't picked a lovey or stuffed animal to cling to. We've offered several, but can't tell that she really has any preference for them. She falls asleep sucking two fingers, but we seldom actually see her sucking on them. I don't think it's nearly as satiating for her as it is for A.

She's also pulling up and cruising around on furniture. She'll take a few wobbly steps with a push toy or holding on to a chair. But crawling is definitely the way to get around right now. She has three teeth, but that fourth one will be here any day. Still loves frozen peas, and she definitely thinks jar food is so last month. Dad did get her to eat some bananas by holding the jar up to her mouth like a cup. She slurped about half a jar that way. I tried not to watch. Wasn't quite as effective with the jar of carrots.

She's been in a screaming phase for the last few weeks and we are making progress toward curbing that means of communication. Progress, not perfection. We're trying to teach her the signs for "more," "juice" and "all done" since most of the screaming happens at meal times. J says she makes the sign for "milk" for him, but I've never seen it. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she understands "no mouth" and I'm actually really proud of her for obeying that instruction more often than not.

Where did 11 months go? Sweet baby girl, it is going too fast. Slow down--the toilet paper will always be there and it won't be long before you know how to open the door.

Really late

These pics are long overdue, sorry. We went to a carnival back in early November and A had a blast! It was one of those local, mall parking lot kind of carnivals, so I was leery at first, but I'm so glad we were brave together and went. We scoped out all of the rides first to determine which ones she really wanted to do (and how much we were going to have to pay). Can I just say that the price of a carnival ride has outpaced normal inflation?! It was $5 to ride the ferris wheel! Per person!! We saved that for our big finale. We started with the little boat ride...














That's the face of pure joy, my friends. She was thrilled just sitting in the boat and moving the steering wheel, but then it started up and went around in circles...in the water. Need I say more?

She also wanted to ride the dragon roller coaster, which I thought was a little ambitious, but I didn't want to squelch her enthusiasm. I was right. But we look like we're having fun.














C felt the same way about that ride that I did; she just didn't have to fake being brave because nobody was sitting next to her.














J got in on the action with the spinning elephants. He assured me that she was giddy about being thrown against the wall of the elephant by the centrifugal force.














We moved on to the little flying airplanes. Because what mother doesn't dream of soaring above the crowds on a glorified merry-go-round with her knees digging into the dash and a frayed rope to hold her in?














And finally, the ferris wheel, which we both agreed was the landslide favorite. You'll have to take our word for it that we're up there.

Sort of, kind of an outdoorsy moment

A has seen several shows recently about camping out, including one with marshmallows roasted over a fire. She's been clamoring to camp out in the backyard so she could participate in said marshmallows. J pitched his tent in the backyard before it got too cold and they played card games until the mosquitos started dealing themselves in. But she wasn't really keen on the idea of sleeping out there. I wasn't either; never been one for sleeping out of doors. I have a lovely Stearns & Foster king-size pillow top that welcomes me to slumber each night. Why would I forsake that kind of hospitality?

At any rate, we certainly wouldn't be making a fire in our backyard. So, we did the next best thing:

I'm happy to report that indoor s'mores are quite yummy. C agrees; she nearly took off my finger tip trying to clean off the sticky marshmallow.

Huge compromise for my manly man. Perhaps one day God will answer his prayers and I'll wake up believing that days on end without proper plumbing is actually relaxing. The title of that post shall read, "The prayers of a righteous man availeth much."

I'm not

My children are asleep and I am typing a blog post. I am revolting against all things productive for the next ten minutes. I am not:

• Editing my Christmas card list
• Addressing Christmas cards
• Preparing teacher gifts
• Finishing our tree decorations
• Cleaning my house for playgroup
• Paying bills
• Reviewing our budget
• Planning preschool curriculum for next week
• Christmas shopping
• Organizing my gift list for the 19th time
  
• Making edible gifts for friends and neighbors
• Making other gifts
• Emailing my sister about Christmas lunch

I am also not zoned out on the couch watching mindless television. So I guess this is somehow productive in a very cathartic sense. Perhaps my dreams will not be filled with the administrivia of this list tonight. Only if I shove a little HGTV on top of it to keep it all quiet.

Knock, knock

Look out, we have entered the phase of "I think my jokes are hilarious and I'm going to tell you lots of them." J is totally responsible for this one. He told her the chicken crossing the road joke the other day and I haven't heard the end of it.

A: "Hey Mom, why did the chicken cross the road?"
me: "I don't know, why?"
A: "Because the other side was there! Ha, ha, ha."
A: "Hey Mom, why did the chicken cross the road?"
me: "I don't know, why?"
A: "Because the boat was too full! Ha, ha, ha."

You get the torturous idea. Totally non-sequitur, totally not funny. Then I decided to step it up a notch and teach her knock-knock jokes. No, I don't know what I was thinking, why do you ask? It only took about half an hour to get the format down right.

A: "Knock, knock. Who's there?"
me : "No, you say 'knock, knock' and then I'll say 'who's there?'"
A: "Oh, okay. Knock, knock. Who's there?"
me: "I don't know because you're the one who knocked."
A: "Who's I don't know?"
me: "No, you say 'I don't know who?'"
A: "No, now it's your turn to say 'Knock, knock. Who's there?'"

We did eventually get it right, but that doesn't mean the jokes are funny. Ready? Knock, knock. Who's there? Annie. Annie who? Annie body wanna listen a 3-year-old's bad jokes? (Hey, don't blame me, you're the one who answered the door.)

Smellin' Coffee

We were all in the car recently and A was in rare form as a comedic genius. She loves to make us laugh. We try to be careful at what we laugh at because we know she'll beat that horse into the ground if we laugh at it. This particular night, though, she had us rolling. Most of these are probably "had to be there" moments, but I'm sharing them anyway because I was there and I will always giggle when reminded of them.

She started our little trip with a game of "I Spy." She took a turn spying something, whereupon it is customary for Mommy to take a turn. Not so this time. I was informed that it was C's turn. Then we heard a squeaky little high-pitched "baby" voice come out of the back seat in A's general direction. "I spy with my little eye something red." Then change back to her normal voice, "Oh, is it the stop light?" Never falling out of character, she flipped back to C's voice, "Why, yes, it is! Good guessing." And the follow-through with good manners, "Thank you, C. Now it's Mommy's turn." I know...you had to be there. You'll just have to take my word for it that her ventriloquism routine was hilarious.

We tried not to laugh at her rendition of the Larry Boy theme song, but it was complete with falsetto echos. It did cease to be funny after the 209th round of it. Which reinforces my earlier statement about being careful what you laugh at.

On our way home, we all piled in the car and had barely closed the doors when I noticed an interesting aroma slithering amongst us. My mouth was open to make a remark when A piped up, "WHAT is that smell?!" Life experience had already acquainted me with the smell of J's caramel macchiato grande venti upside down latte or whatever doctored coffee it was. And I have slowly learned to temper my opinion that not all humans appreciate the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. But A is still learning. She may as well have been me five years ago, lamenting the recirculated air that she was forced to inhale, tasting that smell with every breath. It was stinkin' hilarious. J just looked at me as if I was somehow responsible for her anti-coffee indoctrination. I started laughing, which made her laugh and then we both laughed together as Daddy actually drank the stuff making that smell. It's nice to have another super-sniffer in the family, especially if she's going to take my side on the coffee debate.

Thanks for the dance

I feel the need to document the way I spent the last 45 minutes. I just finished a memorable, rather intimate dance with one 15-pound raw turkey. As I cut open the bag, I took one good look at him and said, "Allright, turkey, let's dance." (It was best the family wasn't home to witness the spectacle.) Tom was a rather silent dance partner; he even allowed me to lead. Though I should say he tried to get away more than a few times. I was not offended, but even more resolved to finish what we had started. I should have known he would be very accommodating when he put his neck on the line.

Okay, I have to break with the analogy now because I really did yank the poor thing's neck out of his body cavity. I didn't want the pun to be mistaken for his moment of death. Nevermind the backbone I demonstrated by doing it. Sorry, that one was awful; I'll stop now.

I'm actually pretty excited about the turkey. This is the first time I've done the whole shebang. I went with the Perfect Roast Turkey recipe from RecipeZaar and it sounds like it should be really delicious. If it doesn't turn out to be a keeper, well, at least I'll always have that dance.

Hawk Shoe

Some recent funnies from our eldest:

A: Mommy, pretend to be asleep so I can wake you up.
Mom: I can't really close my eyes right now because I'm feeding C her cereal. That could get messy.
A: Well, then you just have to hawk shoe.
Mom: Hmm?
A: Like this...haaawk, shooooo, haaaawk, shooo.

Dad to Mom as we approached the front door: Got your keys handy?
A (with utter disbelief and confusion): Why'd you call her Handy?

Her prayers are getting quite impressive. She thanks God for the trees and the grass, asks for more rain so the flowers (weeds) in our yard will get bigger, thanks Him for all the good things He gives us, prays for anybody we know that might be sick and a few who might be healthy. Today, at lunch time, I knew she'd been paying attention to my prayers when she added a line on behalf of Mrs. B (one of our good friends), "Please help her to be umpliant (compliant) to her children." Thank you, Father, that the Holy Spirit interprets our groanings for us.

My personal favorite has been an ongoing conversation inspired by the book "Guess How Much I Love You." She recently told me, "Mom, I love you all the way to the moon." Of course, I replied, "I love you all the way to the moon and back again." Some of her other replies to try to top mine:
-I love you all the way to the sun, then to the moon and back again.
-I love you all the way to China and then the ice cream store.
-I love you all the way to the moon, back to Thailand and across the river.

FYI

We are all still alive and even well. Sorry for the long pause in posts; I hope to have a few updates this week. Until then, I leave you with these pearls of wisdom...

1. Little girls' sneakers do not require decorations on the bottom. For example, tiny butterflies and/or flowers with intricate details that create myriad crevices and veins do not make little girls run faster. Who even pays attention to the design on the bottom of the shoes?!
   
2. A thick paste of baking soda and vinegar, a toothbrush and toothpick are my tools of choice for removing lingering evidence of dog poop from the beautiful butterflies and flowers on the bottoms of little girls' shoes.
   

May you never need to verify these nuggets of knowledge for yourself.

13 Things

I'm still trying to wrap words around our decision not to celebrate Halloween. I want to make sure we're really doing this on purpose, not just because it's the thing to do--either way. I read this list recently in Reader's Digest and it helped:

13 Things Your Trick-or-Treater Won't Tell You
This Halloween, we turned to the experts (kids!) to give us the scoop on how to score the most candy while trick-or-treating and more.
By Phillip Done, from Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind: Thoughts on Teacherhood
1. Old people are either very generous or give you one peanut. There is no in-between.
2. The cuter our costumes, the more candy we get.
3. Good loot: Tootsie Rolls, Kit Kats, Nerds, Twizzlers, Jolly Ranchers, Starbursts, Skittles, Snickers, and Whoppers. Bad loot: toothbrushes.
4. Pillowcases hold twice as much as plastic grocery bags and three times as much as plastic orange pumpkins.
5. Don’t get stuck behind little kids at the door. They take forever to decide.
6. Handing out candy is like serving wine at a party. People serve the good stuff first and save the not-so-good stuff for later. The longer you stay out on Halloween night, the worse the candy gets.
7. Lots of decorations in the front yard means good candy. They spend a lot on Halloween.
8. If a group of children gathers at the door, sometimes it's best to be in the front so you won't have to wait and can run immediately to the next house. But sometimes it’s better to be the last one: You might get two pieces of candy for being patient.
9. It's always better to choose your candy than to have someone else choose it for you.
10. When parents chaperone, moms say "Be careful" and "Remember your manners." Dads say "Wha'd ya get?"
11. Know your shortcuts. Slide through hedges. Jump over gutters. Dodge strollers. And run, do not walk.
12. Dads stay out later than moms.
13. Do not show your teacher what you have in your lunch bag the day after Halloween. Otherwise, he might point to his "Official Halloween Candy Taste Tester" button and ask for all your Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

A surface read might cause a chuckle or smile. After all, these are meant to be cute kid quotes, right? But these statements are symptomatic of the hearts these kids are growing into. I just don't see any values here that line up with the marching orders that came from my King. That makes it a little easier to define some of the blurry edges.

Borrowed Ideas

I'm the last one to want to start with the Christmas decorations in October. I think it's ridiculous that the stores already have Christmas stuff out. Makes me want to get on my materialism soapbox and sit a spell. But if you call it "planning," then I'm all for it. I've really enjoyed SimpleMom's series on 12 weeks 'till Christmas and how planning ahead can make the season more peaceful. My two favorite posts so far:

10 Clutter-Free Gift Ideas for Kids

9 Weeks Till Christmas: Plan for your Family to Give to the Community

I look forward to trying at least a few of these this year, though I'm not sure which ones yet. I think we'll be able to do even more in years to come as the girls get older. Makes Christmas sound fun again.

Taste of Freedom

Yesterday I took the girls on a long walk in the beautiful weather to get out of the house so J could rest. I asked A if she wanted to ride her tricycle instead of sitting in the double stroller (please, please, please, don't make me push that monstrosity). Yeah, that sounded like fun! Off we went. I put C in the umbrella stroller and A pedaled her little trike. She was very obedient about staying close to the side of the road or on the sidewalk. She was even very good to stop on her own as we approached a cross street so that we could look for cars.

I got a big laugh out of her little taste of freedom though. She would pedal as fast as she could, little knees almost hitting the handlebars, singing to herself, "I can do it! I can do it! I can get far away from Mommy!" She'd give me a quick glance over her shoulder and giggle, "You're way back there." She would go as far as the next cross street, then stop and wait for me. She was obeying all our safety rules, so I just let her go. She wants to be independent so badly. Must be hard to be so grown-up in such a little body.

Sick Days

Seems that our family had a few days of rest coming whether we liked it or not. I started with a stomach bug on Thursday and J quickly rearranged plans and deadlines to be available with the girls. Fortunately, it seems to have only been a 24-hour thing as I was feeling good again by yesterday afternoon. Unfortunately, I must have shared it with J, who is suffering this morning. Here's hoping he'll sleep it off and not pass it on to anyone else.

Goodbye, Halcyon Days of 3!

Alas, wise friend who predicted the demise of happy 3-year-old-ness, I am sad to say you were right. Tuesday was an absolute line in the sand between A and her parents. The gauntlet has been thrown down and we have accepted the duel, as God's agents to train her in the ways of His kingdom.

Morning was peaceful enough until I dared to rock by the boat by suggesting we listen to a different VeggieTales album in the car while running errands. I'm not talking about surfing from NPR to heavy metal; let's just hear Bob and Larry sing a little something different than the tunes they've been crooning for the last THREE MONTHS. I should have known better. At one point during this episode, A yelled from the backseat in my general direction, "You, you just get out there and do your job!" I don't know where she pulled that from, but I had to stop and deliver an attitude adjustment twice in less than two miles.

Once inside at our first stop, she quietly mumbled to herself while sitting in the buggy, "I will not look at her. I will not look at her. I will not look at her." Seriously. Through the whole store. Fortunately, we were only there for a quick trip.

Later at supper, I was filling Daddy in on the events of the day both good and bad. That's when A informed him, "You need a new wife." To be fair, she also told me that I need a new husband. We had a nice conversation about how God brought us together and wants us to be a team for always. I summed it up with, "We're all stuck with each other." She ended with a curt prayer, "God, could you please send them to the lion's den?"

During clean-up time after supper, she locked horns with Daddy. I had predicted her un-doing only moments before when I chose to change C's stinky diaper instead of helping A with clean up. I soooo knew what was coming and couldn't deal. Give me a stinky diaper over a stinky attitude any day! We require eye contact when discussing discipline, so the whole looking at us thing is kind of important and she knows it. That's why it was a battle he had to fight when she told him, "I can't look at you because that will break my rules."

We're reading Tedd Tripp's Shepherding a Child's Heart and I'm really clinging to the truth that we are God's agents of authority. We aren't pushing our own agenda, comfort or convenience. It's not about her outward behavior; it's about her heart and how she responds to our King.

Lord, please give us the strength and power to be a consistent example of your loving discipline. We trust that if we obey You in what You have called us to do, then just like in every other aspect of life, You will be faithful to do the hard stuff--bending her heart toward Yours.

Nine Months Old

Last Thursday marked C's nine month birthday. I told A that morning and she asked if we were going to have cake and blow out candles. I conceded by having her help make vanilla pudding, which we all enjoyed later after a round of "Happy Birthday" to C.

At 9 months, C is weighing 16 lbs 7 oz.--still quite petite, but growing well in her own right. And she isn't small for lack of eating. She can still put away the frozen peas. In the last month, she has started crawling and pulling up. It took her a few days to figure out how to sit back down once she pulled up on something, but she's got it down well enough now that she even tried it in the bathtub tonight.

If I ever provoked you to envy by saying, "my baby doesn't ever really put things in her mouth," know that I am reaping what I sowed in spades. Spades, I tell ya. C is putting everything in her mouth plus all the things A never found. Here is a list of contraband she taste-tested today (yes, just today):

• ping pong ball
• long strand of toilet paper (how did that get in the living room?!)
• A's painted wooden treasure box whose paint comes off when wet (explaining the hot pink stain on C's shirt)
• miscellaneous fuzz (after I swept the floor)
• hair bow
• dishwasher detergent (tried to scrape the leftovers out of the soap compartment while I loaded the dishes)
• bathtub drain
• bottom of mommy's shoe
• night light (which she had just removed from the wall and was in the process of replacing when I walked in)

These are just the ones I know about. I readily acknowledge that she may also have consumed crusty food off the floor, leaves, and/or mud while my back was turned. While the night light was a little unnerving, the ping pong ball was stinkin' hilarious.

Happy 9-month Birthday, C!

Useless Backyard

My beautiful backyard is absolutely useless. That is, to the human species. It is apparently a fantastic breeding ground for mosquitoes. I walked five steps off my patio recently and got three bites. Did I mention it was mid-afternoon?! The mosquitoes are so bad at this house. We hunted and hunted for a house that provided good shade in the afternoon so our children could play without frying to a crisp. But it appears the trade-off for foliage is mosquitoes!

I have tried quite a few products to keep them at bay, starting with BT mosquito dunks in our french drains. We also have the aesthetically-pleasing bug zapper with mosquito lure, and have been known to light citronella torches if we want anybody else to venture out there. I have sprayed the grass with a cedar oil formula and spread geraniol granules throughout the backyard. We tried wearing geraniol bug bands, but I can't tell they do anything to prevent bites. J even bought a bat box and will mount it on a telephone pole sometime soon (I hope). I am constantly eliminating any sources of standing water, but the lawn is quickly saturated. I had no idea we were moving into a marsh. Next I'm going to try some BT granules spread over the lawn and probably the wooded area in our side yard. Then I'm going to pray for a hard freeze. Because nothing says "Come play outside, kids!" like a frozen playscape and ice-crusted grass.

What We're Wearing

Ponytails are very in at our house. A fashion necessity for C, lest she consume her own long locks. And at long last, a request from A, lest she be outdone by her baby sister.

Rainbows

We were talking about Noah during our school time at home last week. The art included painting a watercolor rainbow above an ark picture. She really liked making rainbows.

How To Explain?

I love this time of year. Mainly, it's the cooler weather. I think that's why most Texans enjoy fall and spring--they aren't summer. But I get antsy in October. There's this holiday at the end of the month that makes me really uncomfortable. We have decided as a family not to celebrate Halloween. But how to explain that decision to all of our friends and extended family who really enjoy the building momentum of this holiday?

People ask, "What costumes are you getting for the girls?" I'm not. My daughter wants to know what that scary statue is in the store window. I have to censor her usual tv shows because they're doing Halloween specials. I formulate answers to her questions about what she's heard at school, church, or the park. "There is a holiday this month that lots of people celebrate called Halloween. As best we can tell, it's a celebration of scary things and being scared. Daddy and I don't think this is something God wants us to celebrate, because He is not a scary God and we don't need to be scared of Him. So we skip this holiday and wait for Thanksgiving, when we can celebrate all the wonderfully good things God has given us."

God, please help our girls understand. Give us the words to express the conviction you have placed in our hearts. Defend us from the temptation to turn it into something self-righteous. Give us courage to live it out and not compromise to the default of our culture.

I don't know where she gets it

For the life of me, I cannot figure this one out. I understand that I can be a little compulsive sometimes, but this borders on Monk-like tendencies. Girl has been eating frozen waffles for breakfast for most of her little life and will not, I mean will NOT, eat the corners. How does one achieve corners on a round waffle, you ask? I have tried several variations on the cutting of a round waffle and she always finds the pieces that end up as triangles instead of squares or rectangles. Obviously, these little triangles are inedible. Exhibit A:








Doesn't that just beat all?! Fortunately, she has begun to refuse syrup and request "big" waffles with only butter. No cutting = no corners = whole waffle consumed (most of the time), which is good because I have bigger fish to fry, like purging all of our clothes with bent lapels. No, not really! None of our clothes have lapels.

Sit down

This is crazy huge. Are you sitting down?

Yes, it's a chicken. A raw chicken. A raw, whole chicken. Only thing missing is the head and feathers. Any one who has known me for any length of time knows that I have an irrational neurosis about preparing or eating meat that resembles its original source too closely. That doesn't mean I don't want my meat to be fresh. I just prefer to not be able to envision the poor thing that gave it's life for my pot pie.

That said, I have come to terms with the fact that roasting a whole chicken is much more economical than buying chicken breasts. Alas, my penny-pinching has defeated my animal-lover. I did of my own accord and by my own hand prepare, roast, and consume the aforementioned chicken. (J did help take the leftover meat off the bones, but I was perfectly willing to do it.)

I had planned to document the whole experience in photos, because this is a pretty big milestone for me. But digital cameras and raw chickens are not normally good co-workers. So you only get the one photo while it was still nicely wrapped and sanitary, and only vaguely in the shape of a poor little chicken body.

Once I unwrapped said chicken, well, there you go. No mistaking it now--that's a headless chicken. The directions were easy enough. Rinse, pat dry, remove giblets from cavity, season, roast. I can do this. I even allowed myself only 15 minutes to get it done so I wouldn't hesitate. Rinsing done, little wings getting slightly more flappy. We'll skip the patting dry business. Remove giblets from cavity. Hmmm. Now that it's over, all I can say is that the directions were just trying to be polite. What I really had to do was put my hand inside the chicken's southern-most body opening, locate and remove its internal organs--all easily identifiable from my freshman biology class. That was obviously the most traumatic part, but then came the Great Pan Debacle of '09.

After seasoning the chicken, I put it in my pan of choice only to find that the lid wouldn't stay on. Wash hands, find new pan. Try again. Same dilemma. Allow me to point out that I have a big roasting pan, but the recipe pointed out the importance of using a pan that was just big enough so that the chicken would stay juicy and not dry out. So, wash hands, find new pan. Rinse, repeat. Finally ended up with the original pan, held closed by foil. You can imagine by this point how floppy the little bird had gotten at being handled so much. I really wanted to try holding it by its pitiful little wings and making it dance, but I was afraid I would rip the bones out of their sockets and the whole thing would have gone in the trash.

I am happy to report that this post is so long because it was a cathartic experience for me to have accomplished this and knowing I could blog about it gave me the wherewithal to do it. I have since learned that summoning the courage to insert my seasoning inside the chicken will yield more flavor (hat tip to my big sis), so I am willing to try again. In a few months.

Just another October day in Texas

Why not? It's almost 90 degrees and 120% humidity.

Pink Arrow First

A's latest milestone came while tussling with Daddy on the couch this afternoon. He gave her a hearty tickle to which she protested, "Stop, stop, stop, Daddy! You're messing up my hair!" To my knowledge that is the first time she threw a flag on the play due to hair interference. (I have to mix in some sports metaphors to make up for the lack of actual sports being played in our house--Wii bowling doesn't count.)

J isn't much of a hunter (which I am ever so grateful for), so I don't think that is a sport that he is missing with his daughters. The only hunting that goes on around here is some intense hide-and-seek. We play at least three times a day. A has even learned that Mommy can play "just with your eyes" if my hands are otherwise employed. J says he might could keep up the hunt a little longer if A wasn't so obvious, "Okay, Daddy, you count to ten and I'm going to go hide in the pantry."

And our final pink milestone for the day...J asked me to teach A how to play bunko! Can you imagine?! I hadn't even thought of it as a viable pre-school game, but he knew she could do it and it approximates a board game (one of his favorite pastimes). Sure enough, she caught the fever. I can hear them at the table now, "I got one 2, Mom!" I told her that three of a kind makes a bunko and she was the perfect pupil when she rolled her first one. "BUNKO!" she yelled, practically quivering. J said the only difference between her and the noise at a usual bunko game is the size of her body. Notice he didn't say the size of her voice. Bunko, baby, BUNKO!

That Makes Me Sad

I was trying to prepare my own lunch today after having fed the girls. A busied herself with the little white board on our fridge. She was drawing up a storm, punctuating each creation with, "Look, Mom!" After about a dozen interruptions to admire her doodles, I finally said, "Babe, I can't look at every drawing, I'm trying to make my lunch." To which, she replied very matter-of-factly, "That makes me sad. I'm not going to draw anymore. I'm just going to go away." Of course, I felt like a total heel! I tried to back peddle a bit while she erased her last drawing, explaining that her drawings are lovely and I look as often as I can, but mommy needs a turn to eat lunch, too. She erased her drawing (so we could not enjoy it without her) and went to her room and closed the door. She wasn't ugly or overly dramatic about it (surprise, surprise), just not going to perform without an audience.

I have to admit that while I felt like an absolute schmuck because I hurt her feelings, I was a little grateful for the few minutes of silence. Lately, the playlist of my life has been stuck on repeat: "Watch this, Mommy! Watch this, Mommy! Watch this, watch this, watch this, Mommy!" I really cannot watch every time, nor do I want to. J was a little scared when he came home Friday night to find me in the midst of a breakdown, singing and dancing to my own little made-up "Watch this, Mommy!" song.

Fortunately, on both occasions, he swooped in to be the knight in shining armor for both of us. He took her to run errands Friday evening, giving me time to regain my sanity. And at lunch today, he went to her room and talked about how beautiful her pictures are even if no one sees them. I don't know if she bought it or not, but she eventually came out and announced, "I forgive you, Mommy." I apologized again for making her sad and she assured me, "That's okay, Mommy." Oh good, reconciliation. Then as she walked away, "Just don't let it happen again." Not making any promises on that one.

Told Ya

J was first to witness C crawling today. I confirmed it. Sis celebrated with shouts of how proud she was and what a big girl her baby sister was becoming. Month eight has been a busy one.

Breakthrough

Literally. It appears that C's first tooth has broken through on the bottom. Noticed it last night after supper. Just a tiny, sharp spot on her bottom gum. Big sis couldn't get a glimpse of it and I told her to give it a few days and we'd all be able to actually see it. A few more days is probably all it will take for her to be crawling as well. Stay tuned.

Buh Bye!

Isn't she precious?!

Big fan of mint

Mint chocolate ice cream has always been my favorite. Ditto for thin mints. A stocking full of Andes or York mints on Christmas morning? Perfection. (Yes, J, that was a hint.) And now, mint.com. Click on over and stand amazed at the time-saving wonder that is free, automatic, online budgeting. I have always been the one to manage our family's finances and have rightly earned the title of Quicken Nazi. "No receipt? No soup for you!" Well, mint has offered an other-worldy level of freedom for me. I have relinquished my quicken ways and embraced every auto feature that I am aware of at mint. Goodbye, endless entry of every individual receipt! Hello, two minutes every week to verify categories are accurately assigned. Goodbye, two hours a week to reconcile statements and update budgets. Hello, emails alerting me that I'm close to going over budget in any category. The time that I have saved on finances has been so liberating! I have spare moments to write a blog, for crying out loud!

Be free, my fellow Quicken-slaves! You know not what you miss. Taste and see that the mint is smooth and satisfying. Just pray with me that the recent acquisition by Quicken-creator Intuit will not poison the mellow goodness that is mint.com, lest we all be chained again to the time sink that is manual entry.

Bible and Rhyme

I'm trying a preschool curriculum with A this year and I have to say that I am loving it! I can't read her mind yet, but I think she's enjoying it too. I found it online at Hubbard's Cupboard, a site that I can't say enough about. It's chock full of great Bible-based resources for preschoolers. All free, just print it out and use it. We're trying not to be too rigid with schedules or goals, just throwing in a story or craft as the day allows. All the homeschoolers I know would be so proud...we're only one week into it and already behind. We've been talking about creation for the last week or so and practicing writing numbers to go along with each day. Writing numbers in chocolate pudding is apparently condoned by the neatnik 3-year-old; however, writing in shaving cream is absolutely unacceptable. Profound question posed this week: "Mommy, where are Adam and Eve now?" Just color the trees, honey, color the trees.

Loving 3!

I am loving my 3-year-old! I was really worried about 3, because I've heard lots of moms say that "3 is the new terrible-2's." But so far, that has not been my experience with A. Now, another wise mommy recently shared that the first few months of 3 were blissful for her and then around 3 1/2, her angel grew horns and started spitting fire. So I'm going to enjoy 3 as long as I can! Here's why:

1. Playing by herself, playing by herself, playing by herself!
2. Potty by herself, potty by herself, potty by herself!
3. Still taking an afternoon nap
4. Able to play with other little friends without direct supervision
   
5. Enough experience with discipline that the rules don't need explaining
6. Wants to help fold the washrags and rinse the dishes! Hel-lo...need I say more?!
7. Helps her baby sister and rejoices over new things she can do
8. Unbelievable, imaginative stories
9. Finally get to do the fun crafty stuff because she doesn't mind (terribly) if she gets messy
10. Refer to #1-3.

Dear C,

Today you are eight months old. Eight months of flashing that incredible smile at us. Eight months of squealing laughter (and I mean skuh-weeling!). I have no idea what your stats are today because there is no well-check at 8 months and I don't want to climb into the attic and haul down the baby scale only to have no place to put it and have to lug it back up there. You're healthy, that's what's important.

You're going to take off crawling any day now which is way too fast for me. I put you on the floor to play yesterday and you managed to swivel and scoot your way about three feet away from your blanket. You bend one leg behind you and do a cheerleader's herkie pretty quick upon being set down. It's just a matter of time before you get the other leg back there and flop onto all fours. Daddy likes to encourage you by crawling all around you while you rock back and forth. He likes to make my life easier that way.

A handful of people have told me in the last week that your hair shows signs of being red. Auburn, I think one called it. I only see the hints when we're in the sun, so we'll wait and see. You've definitely still got quite a head of hair. Curls all over. You always get comments from strangers. They probably wouldn't make such a big deal about it if I would comb it every now and then.

You are sleeping great through the night, though I wish you would sleep in a little longer. You start moving around shortly after 6 am. Naps are another story. Just like your sister, you like a good 45-minute nap. We've had our battles over that and as hard as it might be for you, Mommy has to win this one. You've started getting very clingy in the last month, and I'm not sure if it's the rough naps or typical separation anxiety. I can't leave a room without you fussing at me, and now you pile on the guilt by starting to plead, "ma ma ma ma" if I'm out of sight too long.

You really enjoy eating! Frozen peas are your current delicacy of choice. It's not uncommon for you to turn your nose up at other offerings until you've had a few handfuls of peas. I tried frozen cantaloupe today and you enjoyed that too. Wonder if you would feel the same about frozen vienna sausages? I don't think I can bring myself to do that to you. The last few times I suggested you eat "meat sticks," they sent shivers down your spine. Bananas had the same effect. Otherwise, you'll eat almost anything I give you and lots of it!

You love your big sister. Chasing her around the house in Mommy's arms is a huge hit with both of you. You two can break the windows when you both get going with the high-pitched shrieks of laughter. She can even make you giggle in the back seat of the car. You love to swing in the backyard next to her. Any time she goes out to swing, you want to go too. I can't wait to see you playing together in a few more months.

One day you will be able to read this and want to know more and more about what you were like. Hate to leave you wanting, but I have to wrap up now because you've only slept 20 minutes and you think you're done. I need to go inform you otherwise, because cute as it is, your infectious smile won't carry us both until bedtime. I love you, C.

Just when you thought you were a grown-up...

...You step in a fire ant bed and are immediately transported back in time to being an angry, frustrated, whiny, three-year-old. I can laugh about this now because the bites don't itch any more. Tuesday morning, I actually remembered to water the lawn and found a fire ant bed while moving the sprinkler. I was in flip-flops, so they covered a lot of territory before the first bite alerted me to their sneak attack. I only suffered about a dozen bites, but they were very strategically placed to maximize the torture trifecta that is fiery itch, swollen skin and inaccessibility to scratching. Only two landed on the bottom of my feet, the others were lined up along the cuticle of my toenails. Not just the cuticle, but almost the interior of the nail bed. You can't scratch there. You might can rub, but that does not achieve the same release of endorphins as a thorough scratch. By the way, I think that endorphin release was God's little gift to get me through the week. Feeling stressed? A little tired? Just give that ant bite a good scratch and feel the tension melt away. Who needs Calgon? Forget coffee! I've got bio-identical amphetamines. Of course, it's not as much fun in the middle of night when you can't sleep because your toes are on fire. Can I just say, though, how incredibly grateful I am that this is all I have to whine about?! God is so good.

Treasure and Ponder

I had one of those sweet, rare moments with my daughters this afternoon that I just want to savor and squirrel away to give me fuel for those days when one or both is screaming in decibels that could make your ears bleed. It was right after naps and it probably didn't hurt that I had gotten one also. It's been a big week around here and we topped it off with a cherry of a playgroup this morning. So we were all tuckered out and took great naps. Formula for tender, memory-making moments duly noted. I was holding a sleepy-eyed C on my lap on the couch and A decided there was just enough room to squeeze up on the other side. They were nose to nose in my lap--big sister talking in quiet tones (very rare), singing to her baby sister, stroking her curls--all right there under my chin. A deluge of loving-kindness from my heavenly Father.

It made me think of Mary, Jesus' mother. The Bible says she "treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart," referring to the day Jesus was born and the shepherds came to see Him because a host of angels had told them to go find Him. Can you imagine having things like that going on with your newborn and not having a camera to capture any of it?! I know this is not a very spiritual thing to be thinking, but here I go thinking it. I can't trust my heart to treasure and ponder for five minutes, much less the rest of my life. I had to blog about my sweet moment, lest I forget it was possible when aliens invade my three-year-old's body tomorrow and scream in demonic voices, "but I don't have to go potty!" even when the tell-tale dance suggests otherwise.

Dear Father, please give extra staying power to my fond memories, that I may treasure and ponder them in my heart. And by some supernatural miracle, please help me really be able to forgive and forget like I know You do.

Side by side

May as well compare apples to apples, right? I've been meaning to take a look at both girls' 6-month pictures side by side to see if I noticed any similarities. I think it's pretty obvious that they're sisters, but they won't be mistaken for twins. And if for some reason, say thirty or more years from now, they are frequently asked, "Who's older?" maybe C will have the good fortune to look her part. Not that I would have any experience with that or anything.

Milestone

C started mumbling her first real word today. It happened first in the car on the way home from playgroup, a pitiful little "ma ma" mixed in with her tired whines. Big sister perked up and yelled, "She said Mama!" I mm-hmm'ed her and wrote it off as a fluke. Then this afternoon, I was coaxing her to come to me in her walker and she started again with very deliberate, repeated "ma ma ma ma ma ma." Of course, my heart swelled with pride and I beamed right back at her precious little face as I scooped her up and snuggled her close, both chanting "Mama, Mama." We played a little longer but she soon got fussy and I put her in her high chair for a snack. Her little feet started twirling like propellers, hands stirring up a frenzy, and now a word, too..."MA MA MA MA MA!" That's when it occured to me that she was not verbalizing her sweet adoration for her mother; she was repeating the only word we've really emphasized to her--"more." We've been saying and signing "more" for a few weeks now when she is eating, and the girl is obviously motivated by food. It wasn't very sophisticated, but she managed to communicate so I'm counting it. First word, 7 1/2 months. Only three months earlier than big sister started talking (who is now the busiest talker I have ever met). Pink arrows, folks, pink arrows.

Allow me to introduce you...

Our little A is becoming such a young lady. Her vocabulary has always been noteworthy; but it never ceases to amaze me when she picks up on conversational contexts and fits right in with adult conversations. Yesterday evening we were at a church social, seated across the table from some visitors. We did the usual introductions and proceeded with our meal, only to be interrupted by her little voice, "This is J, he's my father; but I don't always call him that." No, I don't always claim him either. She paused for laughter, then proceeded, "This is Sarah, she's my mother and that is C, my baby sister." All with a regal flourish of her little hand in each of our general directions. So grown up!

A few days ago, she caught me getting dressed in my closet. I tried to get everything on before she got there, but to no avail. So, naturally, she wanted to know, "Mommy, what's that?" May as well be matter-of-fact about it. "It's a bra, part of Mommy's underwear." I'll spare you the long conversation about the differences between girl and boy underwear and their appropriate terminology. She concluded that "one day when I'm a lady, I'll wear a...uh...o...obruh." "A what?" Mommy wants to know. "An obruh." "An oprah?" "Yeah, yeah, an oprah!" Oh, honey, save Oprah and the bras for a few years yet, please?

Shelter in Place

It's that season again. Nope, no hurricanes here, although we could use the rain. No, it's time for the students to come back. We live in a college town and classes resume on Monday. So here they come...only about 40,000 of them, plus their parents, siblings and grandparents to help them get settled. Imagine the carpool line on the first day of school at your local elementary and you have a general understanding of the traffic problems this weekend. Only, every driver is about 18 years old, and has a fun, new car that daddy bought them for graduation. Oh, help.

Remember the crowds at WalMart to buy school supplies? Ditto this weekend in every hotel, retail store, restaurant, and fast food establishment. They are everywhere! So, we will be sheltering in place. We're stocked up on groceries, have plenty of gas, and movies to watch on TiVo. Not leaving the house again unless absolutely necessary, and only then to go somewhere that repels students (i.e., the inflatable playground near the mall). The good news is that we can come up for air about mid-week to re-stock, check the levels of civility and then hunker back down for the first home football game next Saturday. Yeeeaaahhh, go team!

Really? A blog?

I don't really have time for this. Still I find myself doing a running narration in my head all day most days, kind of like the guy on Scrubs who was always talking to himself. Or better yet, like the little boy on Wonder Years. What was his name? At any rate, I find myself wanting to capture some of these thoughts. No, I want to set them free. I want to put them down and get them out of my head. Some of the thoughts I want to savor and digest, some I want to record for posterity, others just need to leave my brain. So, here goes. Hopefully, writing a blog will not be too big of a time sink. More importantly, I hope it is enjoyed by my family, (especially my girls someday) friends and myself. After all, if I don't enjoy it, then really, why do it?