Carly (holding a toy stethoscope to my heart): I'm gon check you email, Mommy.
Mommy: um...okay...
Carly (listening intently in the apparatus): You got chocolate milk, orrrr oatmeal?
Mommy: I...uh...well...oatmeal?
Carly (pretending to use the end of the stethoscope as a spoon and scooping imaginary oatmeal): Here you go, Mommy.
Mommy: I am so confused.
the man is dead
caricature that he was
distorted version of creation
justice has won
historical murder
let the parades begin
questions of sadness
a human being slain
from life to death--done
the man is dead
vanity to party
vanity to grieve
you cannot kill a caricature.
I woke up today, excited. Today is EASTER. It is the best day of the year. I felt a big sense of accomplishment and relief. The anticipation of this day has been building, and here it is.
These have been my feelings for the past couple of years at Easter. It has gradually become a realization that today, Resurrection Sunday, is by far the biggest reason to celebrate--my only reason for joy. I know, Christmas is big--I mean, it's Jesus's birthday and all. But today--TODAY--we celebrate that He yet LIVES!
You know that feeling you get after a big exam that you've studied for and anticipated? That feeling that you are FREE? That's how I felt today. Jesus's life built up to THIS day. His 3 1/2 years of ministry was for THIS.
He worked hard. He did not rest. He taught deep spiritual Truths. He loved the unloveable. He toiled, and He sweated. He shifted the paradigm. He was hated. He was spat upon. He was mocked, tortured, beaten, stabbed, and rioted against. He was HATED. He was killed. He was forsaken. He was innocent.
But three days later--TODAY [as we celebrate it]--today, he lives. Today His tomb was empty. Today darkness and sin and evil and death were defeated once and for all. ONCE AND FOR ALL.
This was the end that began the HOPE that lives because of Christ. Because Christ Himself LIVES.
"Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow.
Praise Him, all creatures here below.
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host.
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen."
I couldn't NOT record this conversation with my {ahem} stinker of a 2-year-old, Carly...
Backstory: Historically, we have never allowed the children to take things with them into their class at church--no toys, no blankies, no lovies--nothing. And they have really handled that just fine. Neither of the girls have ever been attached to any particular thing, so I that certainly helps. However, a few weeks ago, Carly's teacher hunted me down and asked for Carly's "ducky," the one she was begging for over and over and saying was in her mommy's bag. So I relented. "After all," her teacher (who happens to be a dear friend of mine) reasoned, "a lot of the kids bring their lovies in, and she was seeing them all with their things..." Her teachers told me that she never set Ducky down even once, and, sure enough, he was wholly intact and in her grip when I picked her up. Since then (it's been a few weeks), I have allowed her to take something with her every Sunday, provided that her something is a small something.
So this morning, as we were all getting ourselves ready for church, she was on the hunt. "I'm looking for something wittle," she said. She decided on several options, but her favorite choice was a [large] pink doggy/lovey blanket. Half-engaged in her decision-making process, and half-focused on my own preparations, I reminded her that she needed something little. I believe I remarked several times, "No, honey, he's not little," as she repeatedly requested to take the dog.
Continuing in my own tasks, I didn't pay much attention to her. I was only half-listening [again] a few minutes later, when she said about her dog, "Mommy, I want to name him 'Little.'"
"Oh, good, honey. That's a good name for a dog," I mumbled.
"Mommy?" she said.
"Yes Carly?"
"I wanna take him to chuuurch."
"No honey," I sighed, "remember, he's not lii..." :|
She got me. She got me good. She just looked at me and blinked those big blue eyes, as if to say, "Was there something you wanted to say, Mommy?" I grinned to myself but tried not to let her see, and I ignored the conversation. That stinker knew what I was saying, and I need not say it again.
Is it foolish for me to hope she won't get any more clever than this?
I haven't seen fit to post on here since November--until today. Apparently, I have strong feelings about this day.
Valentine's Day. I know there are significant lessons to be learned if we take the time to look at the history of this day, and of St. Valentine, etc etc etc, blahblahblah. But really, I think this day in our culture is just fun. FOR THE KIDS. I love Valentine's Day because we encourage our children to show a little love and appreciation for their peers by giving them a VERY small gift. We ask them to think about their friends and what will delight their friends. And I love that.
Rachel is finally to the age where Valentine's Day is fun. She's in preschool, with eight classmates. I had so much fun helping her make customized, homemade valentines for each of her little friends. We bought little buttons instead of candy, and Rachel thought through each child, and which button each child would like best, and then she used colors she thought that child would like to decorate his/her valentine. Very special.
And I love hearts, and the idea that pink and red and white MATCH for a day. I had a lot of fun making some little Valentine-inspired clothes for the girlies, and just generally anticipated this day for the pure fun of it.
ON THE OTHER HAND, Jarrad and I celebrated Valentine's Day only once in our own 12-year history, and it was when we had been dating a mere four months. It was fun, but we swore it off the following year, and every year since (after all, we reason, there are PLENTY of other gift-giving opportunities in the year without adding this one). Don't get me wrong--I appreciate romance. Just give me romance on some day when Hallmark is least suggesting it. But I do enjoy half-price chocolate day, which falls on February 15th! I'll take a day-old Valentine's box o' chocolates anytime!
It has been awhile, oh Blog o' mine. Many moments since July 31 have warranted a post--some marker to later remind myself of these days, but I just haven't done it.
But today is special (not that every other day isn't). Today is my middle child's 2nd birthday. She's beautiful. She has crystal blue eyes and hair that is growing these sweet little baby curls in the back. Some days I want to just freeze time. She's affectionate and snuggly, and very very opinionated. Over the last couple of weeks, she has most certainly reinforced the "Terrible Two's" reputation--temper tantrums that can only be left alone, a ready "NO" regardless of the question, and a general contrary spirit that is immensely frustrating to all of us. But she's so cute.
The girl talks. A LOT. She's anxious to communicate, and you can almost hear how hard she works to put words together into the complex sentences she's surprisingly able to construct. "Mommy...I want...go...Rachel's room...Rachel...say...noooooo," in her tiny little voice, with her most serious expression, wagging her finger and nodding her head all the way. It's cute. She repeats Rachel without letting her even complete her own sentences sometimes (Rachel says, "Carly! Don't coffee me!").
We tried to move her to Rachel's room a few nights ago. It didn't go well. At all. We even pushed the beds together so it would be like she's sleeping WITH her sister, but to no avail. I was anxious, because we need the nursery for my growing fat baby boy, but we will just have to figure out something else for now.
AND speaking of my fat baby, I never have posted about him! Yesterday was his 2-month birthday! I can't believe he's that old, but at the same time, I can't believe he's that young! The kid was 9 lbs 5 oz at birth, and he has not slowed down at all. He's so much bigger than the girls were at this age that I forget how young he really is (I find myself picking him up like he's a 4-month-old and then remembering that he's not quite so steady yet). He's a cute one, too. I think he looks a lot like Carly did, but I can see Rachel in him often, too. It will be fun to watch him grow and to see who he resembles most. Of course, like the other two, it seems he will have blue eyes like their father. But I'm in love with those blue eyes, so I consider it a good thing.
Labor and delivery were not so different this time. I thought he would come a little faster, but he didn't (of course), and, as providence would have it, he was born in the 8:00pm hour, just like my other two. Weird. He was 9 days late--9 extra days of a pregnancy that could not have been slower.
I struggled emotionally after Carly was born. For the entire first year I struggled. But I feel great this time. I can attribute that to many things. For one, I am in a better place spiritually than I have ever been. When Carly was born, I was at a low. I struggled with bitterness and resentment toward my husband, and it took that year for the Lord to reveal truths to me that ultimately humbled me and allowed me to experience real love--from God and from my husband. Secondly, my little fat baby is SUCH A GOOD SLEEPER. I think getting adequate (or anywhere close to adequate) sleep makes a really really big difference in my (anyone's?) psychological health. Carly nursed all night long (almost) for her entire first year (almost). Once I put her down at night, I never knew when or how often she'd be up again. But James (did I say we named him James?) has been a sleeper from the beginning, and already he has a lovely routine of taking a good, hard, solid 3-hour nap every single afternoon, and going to bed (sleeping HARD) sometime during the 7:00pm hour, not waking again until 2:00am at the earliest. Even if he wakes up for some reason, he has no interest in nursing, so I'm totally off the hook. Neither of my girls have been this way. Rachel was a great night sleeper, but not daytime. Carly slept just okay during the day, and terrible at night. James...I prayed for you, dear sir--that you would just SLEEP. Praise the Lord!
And finally, I think the biggest reason I feel great is because I felt so HORRIBLE during this last pregnancy! Almost from the day I found out I was pregnant, I felt awful. I didn't have morning sickness, thankfully (and I know some of you probably stopped reading right there because of how unfair that is), but this boy killed my back. I had sciatic nerve pain the whole time (to the point that walking reduced me to tears at times), and by the end, I thought my pelvis would shatter and my hips would be permanently dislocated. I felt completely debilitated to do the simplest chores around the house. I didn't cook dinner. I never cleaned. It's a wonder my family survived. Of course, my husband was the hero--I think he barely survived.
I cannot capture all of the joyous details I've skipped over the last 3 months, but I can definitely say that, while I am a tired mommy, I am blissfully tired. This has always been my dream--to be a mommy. I work hard. I have learned to be more organized and more productive. I feel accomplished to accomplish what would seem so simple, were I not juggling three little kids along the way.
And while my kids make me crazy most of the time, I try to realize how quickly time passes, and how I will long to return here, if only for a day, when my kids are grown, and I try to cherish the everyday moments and freeze them, if only in my mind's eye.
Well, it's official: I've been pregnant for a really long time. This pregnancy has seemed to last forever. I wanted to get my thoughts out about all of it before Baby Boy gets here, lest I forget (isn't it weird how soon we forget?...definitely a God thing--why else would I ever do this again??).
Almost since Day One of this pregnancy, I've had terrible back pain. Baby has bothered my sciatic nerve the entire time, and I have required a lot of help from friends and family (some times more than others, and completely unpredictable from one day to the next). My sweet husband has been more than willing to help around the house, and I'm so grateful to have several family members (including grandparents!) closeby and available, too. All-in-all, it has been a humbling nine months for me.
My sweet girls have grown up during this time, too. It is incredible to watch the rapid change that happens in a kid between her first birthday and her second. Carly will be two at the beginning of November, and, as much as she delights my heart, she is definitely coming into her own. Her big sister is an incredibly intense, persistent, and perceptive child, but Carly has made it clear that she is able to--and will certainly grow into her ability to--match wits with Rachel. I often hear friends remark on how different their children are from each other, but I am here to tell you that I have a set of identicals on my hands. There are differences, of course, and I think Carly would be a bit calmer than Rachel if she weren't trying to keep up with her sissy. Carly is much snugglier than Rachel ever has been. Rachel is very physical, but not snuggly. And Carly is a Mama's Girl, whereas Rachel has always always been a Daddy's girl--a few nights ago, at bedtime, she said to me, "it's just...it's just...it's just that I love Daddy just a little bit more than you" (and besides that, she looks and expresses herself JUST LIKE HIM). As much as they have grown to be so similar, Carly at least resembled me a bit more in the beginning. But, as with her little personality, her little face has morphed into one that very strongly resembles that of her big sister, and there is no longer any question that the two are closely related.
Rachel was a late talker, but once she got started, she has not stopped talking. She asks questions incessantly, and seems to feel the need to know every detail of every goings-on around her. With her non-stop talking, Carly speech and language have been incredibly accelerated (at least compared to Rachel's). At 20 months, she is readily putting words together into complete thoughts and having full conversations with us (albeit, simplistic and repetitive ones).
And one of my favorite things right now is listening to Rachel and Carly converse. The two are definitely getting to a fun stage where they entertain each other, and I get to listen to cackles and squeals from the two of them as they play (along with regular intervals of fusses and whines). But Rachel enjoys banter, so she is always prodding Carly with ridiculous conversation. Here's an example...
It's funny to recount, but, as it happens many times a day, it can become rather wearing.
Rachel turned four in June, and she's grown in many ways. I had been holding out for four, hoping she would settle down some (as promised by some friends with spirited children). Her birthday came and went without much change. Just as we were rounding the corner to July, though, it happened. I still would describe her as "spirited," but she seems significantly more malleable now. She is more willing to hear us out and to concede to our authority over her. She is easier to discipline (I was at my wits end with disciplining her because she did not respond well to anything we tried--it was all like a game to her) and [usually] seems genuinely humbled when she makes a bad choice that leads to action from us. She is also displaying more discernment, which is a relief, and I don't feel the need to keep my eyes on her at every second for fear of where her impulses will lead. It is a nice change to send her upstairs with her friends to play by themselves, or to let her swim around the shallow end with her floaties and not worry that she'll slip out of the pool and run to the other end. I long for a fence around our backyard so I can send her out to play there! Although, she does not usually choose to be alone, so I'm not sure she would go out by herself anyway...my little extrovert.
And as Rachel rounded the corner to 4-year-old maturity, Carly passed her by, rounding the corner in the other direction. Almost on cue, she became contrary and determined, easily-frustrated and not easily-convinced when it comes to doing anything that isn't her idea. It's all so familiar that it's eerie. She's still cute, with all her baby pudgy, those piercing blue eyes, her funny little antics and the way she talks. But because she is so similar to Rachel, I know where it leads, and it makes me nervous and almost dreading her third year (she's not even two, and I'm dreading her third year...how unreasonable is that?). I am hoping that, having come out on the other side with Rachel, I will be able to have a better outlook the second time around. I am also praying to enjoy this sweet season with her now, before the storm really hits, and that God will give me wisdom to handle it better when it comes.
And Baby Boy. We cannot wait to meet you. We cannot imagine how our lives will change. I have tried to imagine snuggling up with a baby boy (all my friends say boys are the cuddliest and that they do so love their mommies), but it's hard to envision it being the same with a boy. Baby girls are little, sweet flowers--delicate and feminine and dainty. It is just difficult for me to anticipate what having a boy will be like. I'm intrigued and excited to have a new experience on our third time around. I'm also extremely curious about how different this child might be. The first two sure look like their daddy. This one might look like me. My labors were identical with Rachel and Carly (17-hour labor, 30-45 minutes pushing, both born around 8:30pm, perfectly healthy, both weighing 7lbs 12oz, no meds), and neither were earlier than predicted (in fact, Carly was seven days LATE). This one might really surprise us and come early, and he might come fast, or we might need interventions we've never had to have before. Who knows?? It would be very surprising if it all happened the same a THIRD time, so I'm expecting the unexpected, knowing all the while that I cannot prepare because I just don't know (neither from experience nor from my imagination) what will be.
So, looking at my ticker, I am at 36 weeks and 3 days today. The house is a wreck--there's so much that needs to be done before Baby makes his debut. We need to settle on a name. As long as this pregnancy has seemed, this date has surely crept up on me. But I remain fairly relaxed. I guess I feel as prepared as I'll ever be and as unprepared as I've ever been.
