Saturday, September 5, 2009

Relax?

We are finally all moved in. Ahh, to be able to relax! Relax? Bwahahahaha! Yeah, relax. Mhmm. The other day we had just gotten home from running errands, we still had things to put away, but more importantly I had four hungry children just waiting for lunch. Abigail started slicing cucumbers, I started pouring milk and setting it on the other side of the island for Ian to pass to his sisters, then out of nowhere I heard “eeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Now, for anyone that doesn’t speak the language of power tools, that is the sound of a drill. The sound of a drill can be a very frightening sound. A frightening sound occurring only three feet behind you. A frightening sound occurring only three feet behind you while it attacks the cabinet just over your head. In the interest of preserving memories, as I always try to do, photo documentation was in order. I placed the lid on the milk and ran for the camera. Now, before I emotionally harm any farmers out there, I promise my John Deere did not explode while carrying a load of egg plants. I also promise to any home decorators out there that I did not paint the walls with an exploded egg plant, nor did I raid a John Deere factory for their green paint. Disclaimers over, I also have a confession. I like the autumn gold appliances. I know. I know. But, just look at them for a moment. Look how warm and cozy they feel. If only the broiler worked, more than two stove eyes worked, and the refrigerator actually possessed door shelves and bottom drawers instead of the two rickety shelves placed precariously within. Offending Cabinets' I promise that my counters are normally cleaner than that … remember we had just returned from errands … I’m not making excuses. Honest. No excuses … just as not to emotionally harm any maids out there. While I’m not making excuses, please ignore the 2 liter of soda. It just jumped into my cart, stealthily going unnoticed until it had made its escape from the lonely grocery store shelf with its best friend … a bag of ice. Now, I know what you are saying. How do you get to the half working stove and where is the drawerless refrigerator ? My Tommy was sweet enough to pause his assault on the offending cabinets so I could get a picture. There! See? Oh? You can’t see because of the cabinets? Well, now you know why we were taking them down. Poor Miss Katherine had been tripped over more than enough just in the time we were cleaning and moving in. They had to go. They were a safety concern! Look, Katherine felt it would be safest to seek shelter in a stock pot! Not to mention the mental damage they did to the poor claustrophobic soul that had to cook in there! And completely forgetting the mold spreading through the rotting wood. See the generous three feet of space between the stove and island … well, I guess technically it is a peninsula, huh? What’s that? That is the wonderful sight of dry wall being repaired. Repaired from what? The cabinets! The cabinets that are now suddenly gone. Look at the space! Ahh, sweet space. But, wait. Where is the fridge? With the peninsula removed, we could move the fridge over to the other wall making room for more counter space! Later, while the older three were getting ready for bed and Katherine was already sweetly tucked into dream land, I heard another foreign sound. Scraping. What was that scraping sound? We rushed in to see … What did we find? We found my Tommy ridding us of the odorous tile that could be smelled upon entering the front door on the other side of the house. He’s my hero. We were so thankful to see that tile go, although, just like the appliances they hold a certain appeal to me … if only they weren’t so smelly. Uhoh. Removing the tile unlocked the smell even more. I’m not really sure if the child that took this awful picture should be punished? What about the child that said, “Hey, Mom! These are drywall DUST masks and don’t block smell!” While we are at it, what about the dear, loving husband that had to stop working because he was laughing so hard at his wife for trying to block smell with a drywall mask? Now that the offending cabinets and smelly tiles are gone what are we going to do? You know that people have floor coverings for a reason. And, um, there were things in those cabinets. Things of which are now scattered all over the house, loitering in places they do not belong. The disorganized dishevelment started to close in on me almost more than the cabinets did when I was trying to work in the cramped kitchen. I closed my eyes, counting to 10 while taking deep breaths. Before I needed to beg for a paper bag, my eye lids flew open directing my gaze to our school and toy shelf. Ahh. Peace and harmony in 25 little boxes. Organization, beautiful organization. All thanks to Ikea. Ikea. Aha! To Ikea we must go! Oh, the place to find just what we need to finish off and organize our kitchen. This is where our remodeling journey currently is … I can’t wait to get back to share the adventures from our Ikea trip with you.

Monday, August 17, 2009

The King is ...

During Family Devotions, Daddy has been teaching us two new songs out of the hymnal every week to go along with our family favorites. Last week, one of the songs was The King is Exalted. Miss Emily was singing along with all of her three year old enthusiasm. I love to listen to my babies sing praises to our God. It warms my heart more than almost anything else out there.

However, this one night, I was warmed not by my heart but by the laughter that I had to keep buried while I straight facedly whispered to my Emmie-Doodle, “Doodle, it’s the King is Exalted, not the King is exhausted.”

Yes, if I was the king and had to put up with all of us crazies, I would be exhausted. But not our King! He is Exalted!

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Self Control, Babycakes, Self Control!

Oh, how I love my sweet Ian. His heart is pure gold. However. Well. If you were to look up ADHD in the dictionary you would see a picture of him ... and his Daddy. ;) Impulse control has never been his strong suit, though something that we've been working on since he weaned. Just the thought of having to sit still in church a couple years ago would induce sobbing, shrieking fits.

He got a play sword for Christmas last year and was told that if he ever used it to hurt his sisters it would be taken from him. Well. He had it in his possession for a few hours before it was taken.

We returned it to him just a couple of weeks ago, with the same warning. One day he was playing with it and Emily came by and did something that he didn't care for. You could see the wheels turning in his head. You could see as he tried to grasp control of his actions. Finally, he threw the sword to the floor and said, "Daddy, you take it!" and walked into the other room to cool down.

Is that the perfect way for him to react? Not at all. Is it improvement? Definitely!

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Little Big Girl

It's an interesting Sunday morning here. Yesterday I was driving down the road when our car started to shake violently for a split second. The violent shaking stopped almost as soon as it started, the car dipped to the right, and I heard a grounding noise. Something caught my eye out the passenger window.

That something, I quickly observed, was my tire. Rolling down somebody's drive way. Several good samaritans, a few bewildered police officers, and a knight of a father in law later we were back on the road. Going no more than 30 miles an hour. Home. And only home.

Last night my Tommy started to fix the tire only to have the jack collapse and fall on his foot. A friend came to the rescue with a bigger jack only to encounter about 300 other problems before my Tommy threw the towel in for the night and came in to cuddle sleepy-sad babies.

This morning our friend came back over so that he and my Tommy could finish in time for church.

I had everyone's clothes laid out and told the girls to go take a shower. I really only meant Abigail and Emily. Katherine saw them grab their clothes and head for the shower. She grinned a grin only a girl on a mission can grin and grabbed her pile of clothes as she ran (as much as a 19 month old can run) to catch up with her sisters.

She's our little big girl, every day joining a new big kid activity to leave her baby ones behind.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

For 14 Weeks ...

For 14 weeks I was given the immense joy and pleasure of carrying a new life even while God Himself was busy knitting the new creation together. God chose me, and me alone, to hold this baby. I am so grateful that I was given this time with my creator and the baby that He gave me for such a short time.

Sunday I began spotting and Monday we went to the hospital. We were given an ultrasound after many hours of waiting. She moved the wand around and poked a lot of buttons but never said a word. Finally I asked if she had seen the baby, if there was a heart beat. She said that she wasn't able to tell me, that if she did she could have lost her job. I tried my hardest to hold it together but the tears came anyway.

She then turned the sound on and I thought I heard the baby's heartbeat so I was overjoyed. I saw the screen just a bit and was able to see the beautiful profile of a tiny little face. However, there were no little fists swishing by that tiny profile. I saw where the fluttering of a little heart should have been, yet there was only stillness.

I was hoping beyond hope that what I thought I saw and what I really saw were not the same. I kept thinking back to the swooshing heartbeat I heard and just waited for the doctor to come in with good news.

When she came in, there was no good news to be heard. The heartbeat I heard was my own. The tiny baby's heart had stopped beating at least a week ago.

I knew that this little one was already at the feet of Jesus and with our little Anna, yet I still held him within. I begged for her not to do a d&c. I know that it may sound bizarre and even a little morbid, but I longed to hold him within as long as God would allow.

My Tommy's parents allowed us use of their beach house as a retreat to lose our baby in privacy. After many hard hours he came this morning. I've never forgotten how beckoning Anna's tiny hands were. Benjamin's were just the same. So tiny, yet they looked like they were just waiting to curl around my finger even though they will never be given the chance. So tiny. So tiny, but so real.

My Tommy and I are so blessed to watch our living children grow and play, yet each new achievement, each new experience brings grief knowing we will never experience those new things with our tiny Benjamin. We'll never get to hear him cry, nor will we get to comfort that cry away.

Tomorrow we will bury him at sunset and we would covet your prayers.