Sometimes it's a Table

Tucker's great-grandparents sent him a kid-sized picnic table for his birthday present! And he and his daddy put it together- nothing like dad/son bonding over construction :)

It's here! (T- "Just in time to save me from my nap! Oh yeah!")

Happy Boy! 

Making sure those screws are secure...

Is it just me or does he look like my brother David at this age?

Adjusting those screws again... Can never be too careful! 

(sigh) Snack Time. Life is Good. 

Sometimes it's Rest

For the last two nights both children have been asleep by 7:45 in the evening. And have slept for at least eleven hours straight. No one has woken up in the middle of the night. Not. One. Time. And it is wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! I think my body is still in the habit, however, because I am having a hard time sleeping through the night. The first morning they slept through the night, both of them, I woke up gasping for air and fumbling in a frenzy for the video monitor. And when that didn't calm me I had to go in and watch Maddie sleeping, see her chest rise and fall in rhythmic reassurance, and tiptoe back to bed.

I felt like I could breath again. Like the tightness in my chest was subsiding, and I was finally taking a breath of fresh air.... it was nice. Really nice.  In the light of every day hardships, trials, and stresses, there was finally a reprieve. However, despite all of that, Monday morning I was tired. Despite the rest. Tired. Maybe exhaustion would be a better description of how I was feeling. I laid in bed dreading getting up. Wishing with all of my heart that there would be a super-nanny downstairs to take my kids for the morning, or even the day.

My heart ached a little and I silently prayed while dragging my still sleeping legs out of bed... I prayed for help. I prayed for strength. I prayed for rest. And, for the first time since Tucker was 5 months old, he went down for a morning nap. He wasn't sick, he had slept a full night, eaten well, been happy and pleasant all morning... But despite all of that at 9:45 in the morning he was ready to go back to bed. I put him down and then took care of Maddie... until 10:00, when it was time for her to go down. And, when neither made a sound, and both closed their eyes, I ran to my bed and jumped under the covers. I was so elated I was struggling against tears.

God cares. He cares. I may not have a physical nanny to whisk my kids away and give me an hour of rest. But, I have a Heavenly Father, who enabled my children to sleep at an hour when Tucker normally does not sleep. The moment when that knowledge moved from my head to my heart hit me hard. Tears- of joy, thankfulness, and exhaustion. Rest. It's poignant. It really is.

2 year old Tucker and his tricycle (with Topo and Nicholas)

Tucker and his tee (with Topo and, yes, UT bat)

Sometimes it's not 1 for Long...

My son's last weekend of being a one year old has sadly seen almost everyone in our household under the weather (with the exception of Nathan of course who is never sick). It's a little sad, especially on a day like today when the weather is perfect, but that just means Tucker and daddy have had some quality cuddle time on the couch.

It's hard to believe that Tucker turns two in just three days... parenthood is a strange thing- the days are generally very long... the years? much too short. A year ago I was wishing I could understand my son better, and now I am dreading the day that he will grow out of his "little kid speak." It will be a sad day when "Chris-toe-purr Bobbin" is called "Christopher Robbin." And an even sadder day when he no longer calls for "Pooh Bayer! Pooh Bayyyyer!" at the top of his lungs. Or when he no longer says "night night" to something just because it's time to be done playing with it. Or when "uncle" is just used to talk to his uncles and not as a term of endearment, ex: "Uncle Mommy! Uncle Daddy!" 


Our little man is growing so fast... Sometimes I feel like I should have been reminded that a year only lasts for a year... 

February 22, 2010

February 26, 2011

February 10, 2012

Sometimes it's a BOTTLE!

Maddie will now drink a bottle. Formula. Up to five ounces. Bottle. Yep, it's a wonderful thing! I have allowed myself to stop holding my breath, have inhaled slowly and let out a deep sigh of relief. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

It took a little over four months, fighting against pursed lips and ear-piercing screams that would turn her beet red all over, but she finally settled and drank a bottle. And has continued to take one with little to no complaint. So it will come as little to no surprise when I say that I feel like joining Dick Van Dyke on the rooftops of London... What a sight!

Tucker began to prefer bottles when he was about four months old- he had never complained about them, but at that age began to discover that they had a more immediate "giving of food affect." One that he quite enjoyed. And so he made the switch to Bottle. And perhaps it's because my firstborn was bottle fed for the better part of his first year of life that I find such pleasure in giving a bottle to Maddie. That, and the fact that now Nathan can feed her while I sleep (huge plus!)... A lot of mothers say that there is nothing like nursing- but I have never really been one of the same mindset. I understand the health benefits... but I LOVE bottle feeding. Call me crazy, disagree, but there's just something about it that brings me joy :).

Will upload a bottle drinking pic in the near future, but for now a pic of sleeping Maddie... 

Sometimes it's Strength

There are days that have found me recently in which sickness has taken a hold of our household. Double ear infections, bronchiolitis, colds, coughs, sore throats, and runny noses have practically been staples here as of late... And that makes the task of parenting that much harder. A sudden longing for being back in junior high, with absolutely no need to crawl out from underneath the covers on sick days... days when your own mom takes care of you by bringing you chicken noodle soup, saltine crackers, and ginger ale.

It's hard enough not being able to determine at which time you get up in the morning- you now have consistent alarm clocks found in your children, and the option for hitting the "snooze" button no longer exists. But when you are sick on top of worn out it makes the tasks of the every day seem close to impossible. And yet, on days like that, on days like today, I find the strength with my children's cries to run to them and aid them in every possible way. On days like today I wonder at my own strength- it's a marvel that I am able to make it out of the bed, let alone take care of my children... (Granted, the house may be left in a little more of a disarray than usual.)

The strength of a mother is incredible. We store away energy and willpower like a camel hoarding water. We rush to our children when they cry for us like a proud lioness defending her cubs. We fight for them and defend them like a mother grizzly- gnashing our teeth threateningly to any who dare to cross us. We cherish their friendship and hold them close (whenever they permit), because we know these chapters will all too quickly come to a close. We kiss their wounds, praise their efforts, and admire their hearts. We are mothers.

With the recent calling on our hearts towards the adoption process, I have begun to pray for birthmothers- with a special aching prayer repeatedly lifted up for my own future child's potential birthmother. I don't pretend to understand the process of being in the position of placing your child for adoption. I don't question the hardship, the doubt, the aching, and the tears that are sure to accompany such a decision... But I also don't doubt that when a woman chooses to place her child for adoption- her heart is for her child.

"You are a hiding place for me; 

you preserve me in from trouble; 

you surround me with shouts of

deliverance." 

Psalm 32:7

The song on my heart...

Some may say it isn't worth it.

That it will be such precious time just wasted. 

Nine months of a life you will never have again. 

Some may call it a mistake. 

Or look on her with shame. 

They may even call her the cruelest kind of name. 

Some will look on her with judgement. 

With piercing eyes, and curling lips. 

They will not understand why she didn't get rid of it. 

But she has seen this time as not her own. 

Not as a choice to be made, but a child in her womb. 

The choice she has made is for her child to have a home. 

I will call this child precious. 

And I will see myself as blessed. 

I will love this courageous woman, who has given him to us. 

And though she may not know it, may never know my name...

I will thank my God with all my heart

For choosing her for me. 

Sometimes it's Heart-Strings

"...even as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before Him. In love He predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of His will..." - Ephesians 1:4-5

This post will undoubtedly come as a sort of surprise to most anyone who is even remotely aware of the current state of crazy in our household... After all, we decided to move, change jobs (3 times since moving), have a second baby, and buy a house all last fall- with the jobs changing through the winter months. But many have been aware of my heart for children since I was very young- to the point that when I was in middle school I wanted to adopt at least ten kids... The numbers may have decreased a bit over the years, but "the fatherless" have always tugged at my heart strings.

With the birth of my second child, however, we had in fact been questioning just how feasible it would be to adopt... To be honest the thought of adding any more children to our household was one that we quickly dismissed. A childish lark, a fancy, a daydream, and a thing which I didn't understand fully at the time- that is how I wrote it off... At least, I tried to...

Months back a friend at MOPS informed me of a conference that was going to be held in February. And I considered it for two reasons: the first being I still wanted to learn more of the exact parameters that surrounded the adoption process; the second was it lasted for a better part of the day with child care and lunch provided as part of the extremely feasible registration fee. It may seem odd, but the fact that it could be turned into a semi-date like outing for my husband and I was a major bonus. And, despite my best efforts, there was still a whispering in my heart that I couldn't seem to silence.

Nathan and I decided that we would indeed attend the conference- he had never really had the same pull towards adoption as I had, but he agreed it would be good to get more information. And my heart strings began to be pulled once more. Until this time I had tried to silence my longing by telling my heart that I would be content with one boy and one girl. "It's a well rounded family, we will be happy," I coaxed myself- willing to no longer desire more children. But this last week... Tug. Ache. Heart. Strings.

An image of a boy, a son, began to consume my thoughts. While feeding my daughter it was almost as though I could see him in the next room, or hear his feet pattering up the stairs. Every day this feeling grew stronger- and with it a name began to imprint itself on my mind. Whenever my day quieted long enough I would begin to feel as though someone was missing, as though I had forgotten something, as though one of my children was gone...

We attended the conference yesterday, and I felt it- the full out heartthrob longing I had let go of had come back, and this time with a vengeance. As I listened to story after story, and began to realize how consuming this process of adoption is, how taxing and tiresome and demanding, I prayed. Nathan and I have discussed adoption and what that would mean for our family. We both agree it is something that needs to be covered in prayer.

And so, if you so choose, we would ask that you would join with us...

Here are the prayers of our hearts:
1. First, that we will surrender every plan we have for ourselves and our future and allow our hearts and wills to be one in Christ Jesus
2. Second, that through every trial we will remain strong, standing together, and leaning on Him
3. And lastly, that we will be daily reassured in our decision.

"Caring for the fatherless is not just a kind act, and adoption is not just another means of growing our families. Caring for the fatherless and adoption are at the very heart of God. Caring for orphans is about obedience... And about knowing the God we serve." - Hope for Orphans- a ministry of FAMILYLIFE

Sometimes it's a Mommy Swing

Recently I have found myself having "mommy swings" as I like to call them, and they bear a remarkable resemblance to mood swings. With the exception that instead of my mood shifting back and forth at a remarkable speed- one that often begs the questioning of it being a certain time of the month- my motherhood driven stamina builds up and runs out of steam in a sort of viscous circle. 

It seems "Mommy Swings" strike me most when I have been "on the clock" for weeks on end with no respite to speak of. Suddenly there is a day where my children just don't "do it" for me- that joy that I look for in my children's faces is hard to see, and I sink into an exhausted weepy state. I then turn to my husband to provide for me that source of joy, and alas he is stressed and work is taxing and he cannot engage in conversation in the manner in which I need him to. I look to the shower, to my pajamas, to my bed, television, books, and then my knees. 

That's when I find it. It's like taking a lung-filling breath after a grand struggle for life; that satisfaction that fills me from the tips of my toes to my head and rushes back down again. (Sigh.) I flip on the iPod, and touch the playlist labeled "Selah" (an inspiration from my younger brother), and I let the music wash over me. I pray the words as they are sung, and my heart begins to heal. The joy I have been searching for throughout the whole day finally has rushed into me in a way more completely than I had dared to think possible. 

Conviction. That's what hits me when I realize I have put the demands on my children, my spouse, and other objects of comfort that I should have been giving to my Heavenly Father all along. I look to them to give me "praises" for being a mother, a wife, etc. I look to all of them to give me joy, instead of choosing to find the joy in them- the blessings in them. I'm not sure if I am making sense right now... 

Recently "Mommy Swings" have been like a frightfully fitful roller-coaster ride. One day I am almost weeping with joy at the simple things my children are doing, or the caring kindnesses of my husband; and the next day I am weeping from exhaustion, stress, and a sense of desperation. Mommy swings. Some may say I am dealing with post-partum blues or some other such thing, and I can honestly say I don't believe that is it at all- I have dealt with that, and this is different. 

So you can imagine my husband's scared surprise when, at the end of one such not so pleasant day I come to him with the realization that we had not signed up for the adoption conference. Mind you, a couple days before that I had been telling him that I thought I was not capable of being a mother- that I don't have the stamina, the endurance, or the ability to last this long with large amounts of sleep deprivation... the question of "making a mistake" by starting our family so early on was gnawing at me.

"What had we been thinking?" I am fairly sure I had asked him quite recently as well. And yet, here I was, showing him the registration form on the computer screen. 

And, in the days between registration and the conference God began to give me reassurance. 

- However much I want to believe it was all me and Nathan who started our family, I know that God has planned our children's lives

- However tired and exhausted and strained and stressed I am, God still sees me, hears me, and loves me

- However much I fear that I have handled a parenting or "teachable" moment poorly, God is Sovereign

- However much I turn to counterfeit gods, God is Grace

Tucker and Maddie in their new PJ's from Mia

Note: This is kind of a preface to the blog about the conference, but I felt like I needed an update before delving into that :) 

Sometimes it's a Pandemonium

More than one owl: a parliament. More than one crow: a murder. More than one lark: an exultation. More than one raven: an unkindness. More than one child: a pandemonium.

Recently I have found that with every load of laundry done there are three more to take its place; with every load of dishes run through the dishwasher there is a whole stack ready to go in again; with every toy picked up a few more are scattered throughout the house; and with every meal that is successfully made there are two more to follow.

Maybe this wears on me more than it does most moms, I'm not sure... That and the added bonus of a baby who doesn't take a pacifier, a bottle, or a teether, and screams for forty-five minutes whenever she is put in her crib... I have had to realize that sometimes most of the time it's not about being a perfectionist. It's about joyfully serving the needs of my family- and recognizing the differences between their needs and my desires.

For instance one of my desires is organization. I relish organization- it releases endorphins for me I swear, as does having cleanly everything (laundry, dishes, house in general)- but two kids equals the exact opposite of organization. Tucker's favorite past-time is to currently unfold freshly folded clothes, draw on floors, empty and scatter the contents of bags, etc. Guess who's about to turn two? haha. But in all honesty sometimes I really do forget that. He is just a toddler. Maddie is just a four month old sprinkle of adorable. This is who they are right now. Not that that excuses bad behavior, but it does explain pandemonium.

And I am learning to find joy in that... The dirty dishes piled on the counter, the dirty laundry on the bedroom floors, the overflowing trash bins, and the toys aplenty- all are evidence of the joys of my home. It's beautiful, this pandemonium I live in- and I wouldn't trade it for all of the organization in the world.