lackluster

At my doctor's appointment yesterday (feeling pretty rough):

• OB: How are you feeling?
• Me (hoping for sympathy): Okay, but I had a terrible stomach virus over the weekend.
• OB (totally monotone, not looking up from chart): Mmm, but it ran its course?
• Me: Well...yeah...
• OB (still looking at chart): I see you were able to maintain your weight gain.
• Me: Yeah...

YES, I've been sickly. Last week, Carly got it--a 24-hour stomach thing. She threw up all night last Thursday, and she's still recovering. Saturday afternoon, just when I thought we were all in the clear, I came down with it. Thankfully, some friends were coming over, and they were just in time to entertain the girls while I lay down and tried to decide if it was all in my head, or if I was really sliding that fast. Sure enough, before the afternoon was out, I had handed my oldest daughter off, not caring what she'd be up to, I was praying that the littlest one would take a long nap (which she graciously did), and I was hunched over in the bathroom with the worst stomach virus I ever, ever, remember having. Of course, I'm sure being pregnant only magnified the effect. Hmph.

On the up side, the whole situation has made me so grateful. Grateful for my husband. He took such good care of Carly when she was sick (his mildly-paranoid nature leads him to be extra caring when our babies have sickness or injury or...anything). And when I was sick, my dear, wonderful husband was at my bedside, while at the same time juggling our ever-dependent children--feeding them, entertaining them, washing dishes, giving baths, vacuuming, calling on friends to pick up my medication (wonderful, good medication)...everything. He's the best.

And grateful for my health. Over the last three months, my health has been up and down. This pregnancy is kind of taking its toll on me. I've had terrible sciatica pain. It started early, and I didn't recognize what it was for weeks. It sloooooowly and gradually got worse, until standing to walk sometimes brought me to tears.

In the meantime, I was an emotional wreck. I casually mentioned the problem to my midwife, who casually suggested a chiropractor. I casually made an appointment, not really confident it would work (and not really confident I had a problem worthy of that sort of attention). For about two weeks leading up to the appointment, I was in tears, crying hysterically over nothing situations on a daily basis. I felt out of control, worthless, and...dramatic, anyone??

Finally, I went to the chiropractor--several times. And it helped--a lot. And, almost immediately, my perspective and my outlook did a 180. I did not realize how much my physical state was affecting my psyche, but it clearly was.

Which brings me to my point--so so many people live in constant pain. Some of you might be reading this right now. I don't know how you do it, but my heart hurts for you. I have no other words, because I have no idea what life is like for you.

Last night, I mustered up the strength to clean the kitchen for the first time in 4 days. Jarrad actually mentioned to me later that he felt he should have done that for me. I couldn't accept that, though. I was feeling so blessed just to be able to do it myself. When did I stop believing it was a blessing to have the capability to do things for myself?

So I'm thanking God for His little reminders of His blessings--the ones I miss every single day.

Easter dresses

I've missed out on posting a lot of fun stuff on here, but I wanted to at least make a point to post the dresses I made for the girls to wear on Easter Sunday. I actually went to JoAnn fabric store and BOUGHT brand new fabric for these. I intended to also buy patterns, thinking perhaps I could learn something if I tried to follow a pattern. However, patterns that involve anything complex are ridiculously expensive, and I just couldn't do it. So, after perusing my favorite blogs and googling everything I could think of, I made these dresses, using several brand new techniques...and, hey, I did learn a few things (or a LOT) by the end!

tutorials that inspired me:

• made - shirt dress
• indietutes - yoke assembly
• make it and love it - bubble skirt
• made by lex - bubble dress

fun fun funny fun

I made birthday presents, and a couple of bonuses for my girls!

After reading a few tutorials, I did a reverse applique for the initials: I pinned the contrasting fabric behind the front of the shirt, and a letter stencil (hand-drawn, thankyouverymuch) to the front, sewed around (but not on) the letter, then cut inside to expose the contrasting fabric. After washing, the edges look nicely ragged. I LOOOOOVE it, and it was really fast and easy. The best part is that I started with clearance shirts from Old Navy...$1.74! You can't beat personalized birthday presents for $1.74. The 'L' is for Lyssette, who also received a cutie tutu, and Brighton got a pair of pants made from the sleeves of a sweatshirt that never fit me quite right.

But the following is my fav-fav-favorite. I started with a hot pink shirt (like Carly's 'C') but I didn't want to do a grey E for my girly little niece Emma. SO, after much thought and consideration, I decided to use a fuzzy black velour-type fabric for her E. I had already finished all the other shirts...this was the last one...and I messed it up. On the final stretch of the 'E,' the whole thing got caught in my machine and ripped a hole in the shirt. When surveying the damage, I noticed that the whole thing turned out wonky (that velour has a lot of stretch...hmph). So back to Old Navy I went, not hopeful at finding another shirt, since they were mega-clearance to begin with. But what I found opened the door to a beautiful little outfit of which I am proudest, to date. I used the back of the messed-up pink shirt as my contrasting fabric. Then, I noticed that a skirt I've had in my stash for awhile, waiting to be repurposed, was the perfect shade of over-dyed denim to create a little matching skirt for baby Emma. I hacked it up and considered how to create it, when the faux wrap presented itself as an option. Serging the edges with contrasting-but-coordinating thread gave it that unfinished-finished feel, but it still seemed incomplete. And so I embarked on my first-ever embellishment, which fringed nicely in the wash. Still not satisfied, I decided to attempt leggings for the first time ever, as well. The sleeves of the pink shirt were perfect for a 3/4 length style, but I did have to piece together scraps from another pink shirt to have enough for the leggings...I'm super happy with the cuteness of the extra stripes on the bum. I sewed it all together to make one-piece, so the skirt stays rightly-oriented on our wiggly sweetie, and, VOILA! hands down, my favorite project yet!

i love rachel

Rachel is growing up right before our eyes. She has developed some really cute habits, lately (along with a host of really annoying habits, but I'll leave that to your imagination). One of my favorite things she just started doing is clicking her tongue and pointing her finger after she matter-of-factly announces something to me. "Well, I could use my crayons instead of my markers [click/point]!" It's hard to argue with that self-assured presentation, Rach.

She's also inferred that "soaking" can be used instead of "very." I assume this is due to me referring to her as "soaking wet" after a bath? The first occurrence of the word came when she brought me the trash can from our bathroom "Mommy, you need to empty this trash can; it's soakin' full!" She had to repeat it before I understood, and I tried to stifle my giggles.

She also, within the last two days, has begun making up stories, mostly involving Carly and their cousin Emma. In the stories, the two babies are usually at MiMi's house, chasing each other and hitting each other. The parents usually get involved in some way, with appropriate scolding and exclamation. Cute. Yesterday, she told me that the two men who cleaned our gutters got married. When I reminded her that you need a boy and a girl to get married, not two boys, she declared, "Well, they did get married. They weren't aware of that rule. (shrugging and shaking her head) I don't know why they did."

She's thinking more (and thinking less...hmmm) and can figure things out, even when I don't want her to figure things out. My favorite conversation lately happened tonight after dinner:

• Rachel: Daddy, why are you washing the dishes?
• Mommy: Daddy is blessing Mommy by washing the dishes tonight, isn't he.
• Rachel: Why is he blessing you?
• Mommy: Well, Daddy has lots of his own work to do, but tonight he's helping me with my work. He's blessing me.
• Rachel: What's blessing, Mommy?
• Mommy: It's when you give someone something they want or need.
• Rachel (thinking): You wanted Daddy to wash the dishes, Mommy?

Yes, child, yes I did. I was floored that she made that leap in logic. I guess we tall people often don't give the shorts much credit, but they sure are smart sometimes.

Anyway, the girl is driving me crazy most days, but I sure do love watching her grow and learn. She is so funny playing with Carly. When I asked her a couple of weeks ago if she remembered when we brought Carly home, right after she came out of Mommy's belly, Rachel looked at me, perplexed. She did not remember. She cannot even conceptualize life without her sister. It seems like only yesterday to me, but to her, this is how it's always been, and anything else would be just wrong. How sweet is that?

you can't choose love

As I have searched my heart over the last year and a half, the Lord has revealed to me my faulty thinking in many areas. Last night, through a conversation with a good friend, I reconsidered a phrase I've heard many times, especially among Christians in reference to marriage: 'love is a choice.'

Is it? I realized that this sentiment is possibly at the root of some of my misrenderings of what marriage looks like. 'Love is a choice' sounds genuinely burdensome, albeit [self-righteously] noble. If 'love is a choice,' I will consider that I always choose love in spite of the faults of the other person (namely, my husband). Consequently, when I'm not feeling the love, I can easily pass it off, because, after all, 'love is a choice,' not a feeling.

I don't think I believe this line of reasoning anymore. Love is, by definition, an emotion; it is affection, tenderness, admiration, benevolence, attachment, devotion, desire, adoration (Webster). However, we all know that, while love is an emotion--a feeling--it can only be expressed through actions and behaviors. The Bible defines love as patient and kind, neither jealous nor boastful nor proud (1 Corinthians 13:4).

How can we possibly achieve that kind of love for others? 'Choosing' love means that we dictate our actions and our speech to be of the language of love. But in marriage, don't you always know your spouse's heart? For a long time, I 'chose' to love Jarrad. I paid him lip service because I knew in my head that he's a good man. But he knew my heart, and, in my heart, I was forever disappointed in him. I was wrong, and I knew I was wrong. My 'choice' to love him really meant that I pretended to believe what I knew in my head to be true, in spite of the fact that my heart didn't believe it. And I failed. I failed miserably at loving my husband.

When a teacher of the law asked Jesus, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?" Jesus laid out two basic instructions: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength," and "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Mark 12:28-31). When I realized the terrible mistake I was making by looking to Jarrad as my provider (instead of looking to God), I ceased focusing my energies on 'choosing' to love Jarrad. All of my efforts to 'choose' love had failed and left me wanting. All at once, I stopped idolizing Jarrad (treating him as my god), and I began following the first great commandment--to love the Lord my God with all my heart and with all my soul and with all my mind and with all my strength. And all at once, I gained a natural, unstoppable, overwhelming love for my husband that was unlike any love I had 'chosen' in the past.

When we say "love is a choice," I think we are cheating ourselves out of the most wonderful, natural, God-given feeling that we are meant to have for one another. Of course, there are times when I forget myself, and I forget who God is, and I forget to love Him. That's when I fall, and that's when I lose that warm and fuzzy feeling (I'm thinking particularly about my husband). What, then? I do try, in my own strength, to 'choose' love. I hope, though, that in the future, I will catch myself 'choosing' to love and realize that it means I am far from real love. And with that, I hope I will immediately fall to my knees to return to the Giver of perfect love.

...a year later

I've been meaning to write this post for awhile, mostly for bench-marking purposes. Carly turned one on November 4th...yes, more than two months ago (but I think I've only posted once since then because of all the Christmas crafting going on around here!). ANYway...

Carly turned one. Oh, sweet Carly. I was so confident when we found out we were having another baby. I've heard, and now repeat, that the transition from one kid to two is a killer. I've heard it's the toughest transition, but we'll be seeing about that...

The first six months of Carly's life were rough. Of course, it could have been significantly worse than it was, but my sweet, smiley baby was sick. A LOT. She had breathing issues. I was never sure if she had a cold or if she was contagious. I hated that she had been prescribed antibiotics three times for ear infections, and that the pediatrician was encouraging us to try awful asthma meds. I never took her anywhere because I was afraid she'd get the flu. We never had friends over because I was afraid she would infect their kids with whatever it was. I was lonely. And blue. Maybe even depressed.

We finally visited the lung specialist when Carly was 6.5 months old. He gave us one word: Tracheomalacia. I took it home and read, and all the pieces made sense. We started her on acid reflux medication (acid reflux is a common problem associated with Tracheomalacia), which cleared up her congestion (congestion can be the manifestation of acid reflux...weird) and kept her from getting any more ear infections.

The bottom line is that I found out my baby wasn't really sick after all. What she had was a minor birth defect that will correct itself. PHEW! I began to cheer up. I still had my moments/days/weeks of not feeling great. I was run down with a baby who didn't sleep through the night. I know I know, I could have let her "cry it out." But I am not of the school of thought that says that sleeping through the night is the beginning and end of parenting, and so I did not do what I did not want to do. Carly never nursed well during the day--perhaps the Tracheomalacia, maybe the acid reflux. Whatever the reason, she nursed WELL at night, and I was always sure she was getting plenty of nourishment as long as she was waking up. As she got older, I cherished those wee-hours feedings, because Carly is an on-the-move girl, and there were many days when those were my only snuggles from her. I loved it. But I was tired.

When she was 11 months old, eating well, and pleasantly plump, I finally decided to let her cry. She's of the determined sort, and cry she did. Although she has always been a dream to put down (she basically dives into her crib and waves me out of the room), she would wake up at 10pm, 11pm, midnight--whenever--and cry. For hours. My options were to spend 5 minutes nursing her and then put her back in her crib, or listen to her cry. For hours. At 11 1/2 months, I held strong...until 4:00am. And so, she developed a 4am waking habit. I didn't care, until last month. I realized that if I ever wanted to spend the night away from this one, I'd need to do away with this 4am thing (and it wasn't helping much anymore, since she'd often go back to sleep only until 5:45 or 6). So for four or five nights in a row, we listened to her cry/fuss/whine/whimper from sometime in the 3:00am hour until morning. But then she was over it! And so I was once again affirmed, that nothing I, the mommy, choose to do in the first year of Baby's life can't be corrected in a few days of re-training. Although I was tired for...over a year...I look back and do NOT regret nor begrudge the sleep I lost. I took care of my baby the way my instincts dictated, I had fun doing it, and she thrived.

Wow, I'm really rambling...

Where was I? ...the second six month of Carly's life...I felt much better, but I was still tired. I had moments of pure energy and excitement, contrasted with moments of anxiety, loneliness, and sadness. But, by and by, the good days outnumbered the bad, and I was happy to have weathered the storm and gained so much new insight from the Lord.

And then Carly turned one.

And then I was normal.

I felt normal. I acted normal. Things didn't look bleak. I felt blessed and encouraged. I felt empowered and energized. And, within days of Carly's birthday, I remarked to Jarrad that I'm pretty sure I'll look back and say, "And then, it took me a full year to recover from my second-born."

I'm pregnant again, if you haven't heard. I'm just over 8 weeks along, and feeling tired, but fine otherwise. Rachel is at a frustrating age, and I can definitely tell I have a shorter fuse. My days of normalcy were short-lived, I suppose, but I'm hopeful they will return quickly after we meet this sweet one. Maybe this one will sleep through the night a little sooner. Hm...I kinda hope not...

the end of a season

I believe I am returning from my longest-ever blogging hiatus. I've had a few topics bouncing around in my mind, but never made it to the computer with the expressed purpose of recording said topics. For now, suffice it to say that we've been extremely busy, in more ways than one. Of course, Christmas is a busy season for all of us, isn't it? My wonderful husband's dedication to building us from debt to wealth (thanks, Dave Ramsey!) really freed my stress this year. I decided to make as many Christmas gifts as possible, to get done what I could manage without gaining extra grays (where are all these gray hairs coming from??), not spend an excessive amount of money on people who have everything they need and most things they want (like ourselves), and to let the rest sliiiiiiide. And as a result, for the first time in many many years, Christmas was fun. I love giving gifts--truly--but I hate the artificial pressure of our artificial celebrations during such a sacred, REAL season of what should be the most genuine and humbling of celebrations.

Rachel is 3 1/2 now, and she understands so much. How do you teach a kid that this a season to GIVE, not get? I told her every chance I got. I helped her make gifts for a few of her most beloveds--her grandparents and her daddy. But everywhere we went, people asked Rachel what she wanted for Christmas, what was Santa going to bring her, and if she had been "good enough" to get STUFF. Stuff, people...really?? That's what it's all about?

I have never reflected on the toy drives that occur during this season. We are encouraged to make Christmas happen for families who can't afford to "do" Christmas the way Christmas should be done (apparently). I have never, until this year, considered the implications therein. What is Christmas?? Is it a time when it's okay for kids to be greedy? Who are we, that we can "make" Christmas for people? The very beauty of Christmas is that it is available to everyone, no strings attached. There are no people who cannot experience Christmas. Christmas is nothing, if it is not free and available to all.

I don't mean to downplay the mercy ministries that happen during this season. After all, as we reflect on God's mercy in sending the greatest gift to us on Christmas day (or somewhere around that, anyway), how could we not respond by extending similar mercy to those among us who are without? But this is the first year that it struck me that it is all vanity if we don't proclaim the name of Christ and communicate God's ultimate gift to us. All of our mercy-giving and gift-giving, even among our families and close friends, is vanity without Christ.

Jarrad and I are very blessed with families who seem to genuinely enjoy blessing us with good gifts during this season. We hardly feel the need (and nearly feel guilty) purchasing gifts for our own children because of the volume of gifts given them by others who love them so. We would never want to take the joy out of that. But I can definitely say that I'm at a loss for how to help my children understand that receiving gifts is absolutely at the bottom of the list of important-things-that-happen-in-December. I do think we'll start by trying not to allow our children to get caught in the "gift race," wherein one finds oneself trying to guess who will spend how much to buy which gift for me so that I can do my best to match, if not exceed those gifts by giving equal, if not better gifts in return. I shook that this year, as I've been most guilty in the past.

Okay, okay...I promise I'll do a fun post soon about all the stuff the kids got for Christmas. In the meantime, here are a few of the gifts I created for our loved ones this year:

An outfit for my nephew, from a pair of my cords I never wore (the pants are a tad too small for him...sad!) key fobs! (these were so quick and easy and FUN to make) embellished onesie and handmade tutu for my niece (my favorite gift, hands down) hand-printed tee for a cousin, whose name I drew at Thanksgiving :) ...he's a bird lover! laptop sleeve with matching drawstring cord pouch, made from an upcylced hoodie (second fav gift)