Brambleberry Grace

itsystitch Waldorf inspired dolls

2012-01-30T16:21:00.000-06:00

If you have a little girl, and your little girl likes to play with dolls...well, then you need to know about itsystitch.

Photo: Amie :: itsystitch

Shop owner Amie is a super talented lady, and she recently started selling her wares online. She is running a contest to win one of her Waldorf inspired dolls. You have until 2:00 pm on February 2nd to enter. If you win, come back and thank me....and if you don't, you're welcome anyhow...you will not find Waldorf inspired dolls anywhere else online of this quality at such a great price. And, seriously, how cute is their hair?!

one, two, three, four

2012-01-26T16:08:00.001-06:00

hootie owl for Steph

2012-01-20T10:53:00.001-06:00

Lori and Donna

2012-01-19T10:30:00.002-06:00

A few possibilities...

bleeding hearts :: 30" x 24" :: $55

wildflowers :: 36" x 24" :: $75

daisy field :: 36" x 24" :: $75

(Click on any photo to enlarge)

2012

2012-01-03T12:46:00.000-06:00

Three days in.

We're back into the rhythm of our schedule.

Daddy at work. Big kids at school. Little kids at home. Mom/my...you know....still doing whatever it is I do.

Trying to find some words to share in this space.

I'm going to make this year an authentic one. Is that an Oprah thing to do? I'm not intending to do it in an Oprah sort of way. I want to be real and honest. I want to be fully present in my life. For whatever reason, I find myself floating through my days, hovering above the surface. This will be the year that I stop floating. And figure out whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing.

South African Stripes

2011-12-18T16:04:00.000-06:00

a must buy

2011-12-13T19:59:00.002-06:00

<p><p><a href="http://jeremyerickson.bandcamp.com/album/advent-the-coming-of-the-king">advent: the coming of the king by jeremy erickson</a></p></p>

wrestling fragile

2011-12-06T12:27:00.001-06:00

I was in my car. The radio pastor was not Joel Osteen, but his message was dangerously similar. God doesn't just want to give me a roof over my head, clothes and food. He wants to bless me with "things" - abundantly. I know the verse. I know the sentiment. I can argue both sides and all around and back and forth and inside and out. I can speak Christianese.

Some Sundays as I'm sitting in church it is all I can do not to start shouting. Our clothes are all beautiful. Our parking lots filled with expensive vehicles. Our homes...our stuff...our things. We have been blessed abundantly.

"And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus."

Sweet! I hope Baby Jesus is going to bring me an iPad2 for His birthday.

.

.

.

People. PEOPLE! How do we reconcile our wealth and the needs of the poor? Do we only give once we have all the stuff we want? Because God's hand of blessing is on us? Do we sell everything we have? Where is the middle ground between David Platt and Joel Osteen? Why do we buy all these books? Why do we pick one token "social issue"....

I have been wrestling. With this and so many other things. Church as a business. Sinners. All of us. Sinning. And loving. And trying. And failing.

Wanting SO BADLY to wrestle this all out with someone. Anyone. Anyone that won't pray a sermon over me. As I know I have done to others. (If I've done that to you, I'm so sorry.) Why do we do that? Why do I do that?

I imagine myself in a conversation. Puking this all out on someChristiansomeone. And I already know the pat answers. I can complete the entire dialogue (monologue) in my mind. I already know. The Christianese. We say the right things. We gently rebuke. We have the verse that supports our response.

Can you have a conversation with someone and begin it with, "I already know I am judging others and that is wrong. I already know that God is in control. I already know that we are all sinners. I already know that the poor will always be among us. I already know...Grace! Mercy! Love! Jesus! The Bible! God!"

Do I sound self righteous? I am! I am full of all kinds of sins. I judge. I have a log in my own eye. I already know that! I am on a slow burn to I'm not sure where....crazy?

...I sit here and simmer. Afraid to say the words out loud. I'm too fragile to face rebuke.

I don't want a prayer sermon. I just want God to be right here with me, so very close. And maybe someone else who doesn't have the right answers.

For Eric (& Jen)

2011-11-20T20:49:00.003-06:00

It took a while to figure out how to do this.
A long time (years?) ago, my brother-in-law gave me an idea for a painting.
A birth.
A death.
And a resurrection.
A giant trio.
This is how I would hang it.
I told him he's going to need a big wall.

for Martina and Laura...

2011-11-19T16:10:00.001-06:00

Martina:

Laura:

you don't bring a mirror to the grand canyon

2011-11-11T16:17:00.000-06:00

A John Piper quote that pricked my soul at momtime today.

Followed by:

(my paraphrasing)

((of this wise young lady))

When you're drowning in the river, you don't reach out and grab onto something that is also in the river. You must reach out to someone on the river's edge.

(P.S. His name is Jesus.)

for Cook

2011-11-03T18:43:00.000-05:00

the white goose

2011-11-03T09:51:00.001-05:00

Several years ago I noticed a giant white goose living amongst a flock of Canadian geese at one of the city parks. It stuck out. Like a giant white goose.

Every Spring since, I've kept my eye out for her. (Or him. But I've named it Frannie...so let's just say it's a girl.) And every Spring, there she is...giant Miss Frannie.

I love her.

Sassy thing.

November 2

2011-11-02T12:40:00.002-05:00

A few new...

wrens

2011-10-26T13:56:00.002-05:00

the real

2011-10-14T16:38:00.000-05:00

I took a picture this afternoon. But I feel too lazy to pull out the camera cord so I can upload it.

The picture is of my sofa. Couch. Davenport. Whatever.

There are powdery hand prints all over the seats. Why? Because my son's lunch was a donut. And you know what? So was his breakfast. He ate both of them in front of the couch, all classy-style.

And to be completely honest the reason we even have donuts in the house today is because it's Friday.

A friend and I decided last April to walk every weekday morning. At FIVE a.m.

Because we're total rock stars, we started running at some point in May. Eventually we were walk/running a 5K every day. That's right. A 5K. Impressed? Hold on.

When school started, we decided we should cut back to meeting Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings. And then it started to get a little cold and one or both of us started having achy joints. So we decided we would quit with the running and just walk fast.

That went well.

Until we decided that we should walk really fast on Monday and Wednesday, and then Friday instead of meeting to walk, we should meet for donuts.

So.

That's what we do.

I've lost exactly zero pounds.

But, it's my favorite new reason to wake up at 5 a.m. on a Friday.

ten eleven

2011-10-11T11:12:00.002-05:00

He has a birthday today.

And an early meeting. And an out of town football game.

Yesterday we made cards and hit the grocery store for the ingredients we'll need to make his birthday dinner. Everyone had ideas....a feast to rival the holiday meals. The presents they want to buy for him cost more than they (will ever) have. So they draw pictures.

Tonight, when it's much past bedtime, we'll be waiting by the windows for our birthday dad to come home.

And we will celebrate the man that 4 little kids adore and whose wife thinks he hung the moon.

it's a friday

2011-10-07T13:30:00.000-05:00

I like a Friday.

Yesterday, my teeny tiniest tiny baby turned one. I didn't even cry about it. This is huge. And curious. I'm not sure why I'm so okay with it. Maybe because I made brownies with cream cheese frosting? I don't know. But that frosting. Whoa.

There's a good amount left in my fridge right this minute and it's taking a bunch of will power not to go at it with a spoon. I just had a conversation with myself.....I said, "Hey, self. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't finish off that frosting." To which I replied, "How about 3500 good reasons? That's how many calories are in that little tub of delicious." So. I didn't eat it.

Yet.

And as an update to the show: It went okay. It was definitely fun, but I don't think it's the best venue for paintings. I'm thinking next year, when we do it again, I'm going to have to come up with something different to add to the mix.

I noticed that light bulb snowmen and santas were pretty popular. I may need to switch gears.

getting ready

2011-09-30T13:01:00.000-05:00

I've been playing around with the paintings for the show. It feels very nostalgic. My grandfather owned a clothing store where I got to work for several years. I loved to change the displays and stage the windows. This feels a little bit like that. Only, Bumpie isn't at my house to add a pair of work boots and woolen socks.

*fifty points if you can find the stealth fighter jet, zebra, and old brown pickup truck.

For a show this weekend...

2011-09-28T17:28:00.000-05:00

I'm joining my mom and sister this weekend at a craft show.

Super pumped to be spending Saturday with a few of my favorite ladies selling our wares.

If you are near Lake City, MN, come and say hello!

Banana Bread - for my doll

2011-09-27T13:11:00.001-05:00

I'm baking banana bread today. I decided a long time ago (probably when I was hungry) that I'd like my kids to have me baking as part of their growing up experience. I have a glass cake dome on my counter that I try to keep filled with some sort of baked situation.

While I was mixing up the batter, I started thinking about my girl. How one day, when she has a kitchen of her own, I'd like her to have a starter set of recipes at her disposal.

So, over the course of time, I'm going to compile some those recipes here.

Starting with:

Banana Bread
(Great Grandma Delores)

1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter - softened (or melted if you want to hurry)
2 or 3 mashed bananas
3 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup buttermilk (which we never have on hand so I sour skim milk with vinegar-just a drop)

2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt

Mix the first six ingredients in the order listed. Make sure to cream the butter and sugar first. I usually use a potato masher to smush up the bananas, and then just keep mashing all the other wet ingredients with that.

Next, you can dump the next 4 ingredients into a pile on top of the banana mixture. Take a second to fluff the soda and powder into the flour (with your *clean-of-course* fingers) and then fold it all together.

I usually divide this between 2 bread pans, or use it all in one bundt pan, and before placing it in the oven, I top it with sugar. (Raw is best, but regular cane will do just fine.)

Bake at 325 for 45 minutes to an hour. (A knife inserted should come out clean when it's done.)

This is a nice basic banana bread recipe, but it also loves to be jazzed up. You know how much your mother loves to jazz things up. Coconut, walnuts, chocolate chips...by themselves or all together make it extra special.

xoxo

thirteen

2011-09-19T00:06:00.003-05:00

here's to one and only one

and may that one be he,

who loves but one and only one

and may that one be me.

~unknown

spider moms

2011-09-17T16:03:00.000-05:00

"What are you painting, Mom?

"It's a Spider Mum."

"A Mom Spider? Oh I see, Mom."

Little House Style and also? Poetry.

2011-09-12T20:45:00.002-05:00

The power went out today. For about 45 minutes? It wasn't out for very long, but it just happened to go out 4 minutes after I started browning hamburger for tonight's dinner. My stove is electric. So, you know, a problem presented itself. However, because I am Laura Ingalls Wilder, I took my iron skillet and put it in my grill outside. That grill sure did the trick.

I felt very....I don't know....resourceful is a bit too strong...quick thinking? Brilliant? Handsome, regal, majestic. Lovable, yes, yes. Cuddly...whatever, it just felt good.

And it tasted good.

Also, as I was looking for the post about simplicity that I linked to under Laura Ingalls, I found this little snippet hiding in my archives. (My archives. Psh.)

I leave you with:

untitled

They walked together.
The hour was late.
He walked ahead,
to open the gate.
She wanted to thank him,
but didn't know how.
He was the farmer.
And she was the cow.

And still, I remember. As if It happened yesterday

2011-09-11T12:07:00.000-05:00

(a repost)

On Friday, September 7th, 2001, I was on my way to an evening design class. The road I was on had a series of synchronized lights...the kind where you could get through all of them if you pushed it, just a little. The car in front of me was getting us through them...we were nearly at the end of the set, when the last one turned yellow. The gal in front of me stepped it up, and so did I. I reached down to grab something out of my back pack and looked up. She was hammering her breaks. I hammered, too. But it was too late. The roads were just a little wet, and I rear ended her.

I got out of the car in a panic. Was she okay? She was okay. I was a wreck. I was crying. I felt horrible. Her lovely car had one little schmick in her bumper. My neon was a crumpled up mess. I called my dad, who was also, conveniently, my insurance agent. He arrived. The police arrived. My husband arrived. I couldn't stop crying.

The poor sweet lady I ran into was so lovely and gracious. She reassured me that everything would be just fine. It was so bizarre. When all was said and done, my husband drove me to my class. My neon went to the shop. The nice lady drove herself home, with my insurance information. The police gave me a ticket, because insult and injury go hand in hand.

The next morning, I woke up very stiff. And emotional. I was about to grab a handful of Advil, when it occurred to me that something else was rather amiss. I took a test. It had two lines.

I did not take the Advil.

The rest of the weekend went by with me in a state of shock and a state of shock.

That next Tuesday, I said goodbye to my husband as he left for his daily college routine. I was getting ready for classes in the same way I always did...breakfast at the coffee table while watching Good Morning America. A plane hit the World Trade Center. Watching in disbelief, a second plane hit.

What is going on?

What is going on?

I watched until I had to leave to get to class. On the drive over, the radio spoke about the Pentagon. All the pieces were beginning to come together.

I parked my husband's truck in my parking lot, and began the 7 block trek to the Apparel, Textile, and Interior Design building. Something hot began to pinch my arm. A bee. I was being stung by a bee. It made me angry. I stepped out of character and squished it with my hand.

I ruined my car. We were having a baby. Something horrible was happening in our Country. I got stung by a bee.

I made it to class, and there were only 2 other people that showed up. Everyone was moving around really slowly. Televisions all around campus were tuned into live coverage.

I went to grab a coffee. Brought it back to the studio, and decided to work on my project. As I rendered the office space I had been working on, life felt very different. What am I doing? An Interior Designer? How do we change the world? What kind of world is this to be bringing a baby into? My arm hurts, stupid bee. What do we all do now?

once again

2011-09-06T14:11:00.000-05:00

Another day of firsts.
Homework pencils are sharpened. Ready.

So were they.

This was a big day for two big kids.

They couldn't wait.

(I could wait.)

striking while the iron is plugged in

2011-08-26T13:36:00.000-05:00

Or, I'm sorry Orla Kiely.

I used to measure my level of crazy by how many times I painted my kitchen.

(A lot of times.)

But I tired of painting my kitchen. Also? What I really want to do in my kitchen is make new counter tops. Although, I don't know how to do that. And? New counter tops cost about 50 times more than a gallon + a pint of paint. So. The painting. It has to go somewhere.

I'm noticing a trend in these recent blog posts. Namely: they're all paintings. Which is a good gauge of my crazy. Or at least the potential for my crazy. Painting is the medicine for my brain that says, "shh, shh. It's okay." Please don't be alarmed. I am (mostly) normal.

I've got a few avenues for selling some of these this fall. If I get my act together afterwards...or before...who can tell?...I'll swing the doors of my lonely Etsy shop back open. In case you are in need of some hotel art for your walls.

possibilities

2011-08-18T06:00:00.000-05:00

for Shana...

....and just because it was done on the same day...

akt

2011-08-17T10:42:00.001-05:00

I've been painting for just long enough that some of the people I know have accumulated small galleries of my stuff. These are at one of my sister's house. I'd forgotten how many she had. :) It's fun for me to see them in action.

I am admittedly no Van Gogh.

I refer to my style as Hotel Art.

It's not Monet, but I don't mind looking at it on the wall.

proteas

2011-08-14T18:32:00.000-05:00

Attn: Julia Roberts R.D.H.

24" x 30" ~ $55

ocean circles

2011-08-12T11:48:00.001-05:00

...for Steph...

circles of a different color...

2011-08-11T12:04:00.001-05:00

j l l ?

2011-08-03T09:19:00.002-05:00

I wasn't sure on the size...so I did one 24" x 36" and the other 18" x 36".

(was thinking one or the other.)

((Big $75, little $60))

((( :) )))

busy brushes

2011-08-01T09:39:00.002-05:00

summer

2011-07-29T17:14:00.000-05:00

I was mixing batter for scones while my girl was up playing in her room while her brothers were chasing around the living room (two on legs and one in a walker) while my husband was out working in the garage.

And all was right in the world.

Thankful for the little things.

Know what?

2011-07-14T16:16:00.000-05:00

My oldest boy is six and a half. Which makes me lame and three quarters.

Mothering boys does not come naturally to me. I grew up with sisters. Boys were always a great mystery. All that energy. Natural boy energy seemed like naughtiness before I had boys of my own. Now I know better. A boy without energy enough to climb the walls, tear them down and then build them back up should have his thyroid levels checked.

Many times a day I am reminding my boys to talk in a quieter voice, simmer down, walk nicely, slow down, talk politely etc. And many times a day I am reminding myself that I am raising boys. Boys need to talk in a loud voice, simmer up, walk crazy, kick into high gear and talk about bodily functions. They must do all of these things or they will explode. We do a daily dance of reigning in and channeling energy. Finding appropriate outlets for natural tendencies.

Yesterday was a day full of correction and redirection. It started to show on my boy's face. The 'I can't do anything fun' look. So I skunked him in a game of marbles. Then he beat me twice...and practiced some smack talk. So I body slammed him. Then I beat him in a foot race. He smiled at me like I wasn't quite as lame as he thought. Then to seal the deal I asked him, "Know what?"

"What?"

"Chicken butt." I said. And his eyes got wide.

"Know why?" I asked.

"Why?" he grinned.

"Cow pie." I said. His eyes got wider.

"Know where?"

"Where?" he asked on pins and needles.

"In your underwear." I whispered. And his eyes fell onto the floor.

And I am now the coolest person he knows. For now.

7.12.11

2011-07-12T15:06:00.002-05:00

"Do you mind if I take a quick nap?" I asked my husband, home from a morning of summer school, after lunch.

"Not at all."

I snuck away to our bedroom and closed the door. One minute later, the door opened.

"I can snuggle you, mom?"

"Of course you can snuggle me. I love to snuggle."

Then a thought...soon it is this little one's naptime. "Do you want to take a nap on Mommy's bed?"

He did.

So I quickly grabbed his blankie and snuggled him in next to me. We closed our eyes. He started to snicker. I thought to myself. If I'm going to get him to sleep, I'm going to need to keep my composure. I peeked one eye open and reminded him to close his. After a very short moment of silence, a car drove across my face and parked on my forehead. More snickering from him. Nothing from me. The car disappeared. And then returned. And then disappeared. Then two legs flew up into the air and plopped back down. The bed wiggled. He giggled. I kept as still as a statue.

Two fingers walked up my arm and poked me in the nostril. He could barely contain his laughter. I opened my eyes and looked directly into his. He's waiting for my response. And in that moment I thought I can do one of two things: I can dial up my tone and tell him firmly that it is time to sleep - and this day will be like any other OR I can enter in to this silliness and make today a day to remember.

I raised my hand all the way above him, still locked in his gaze. The corner of my mouth started a smile that gave my intentions away. He tried in vain to escape the tickle monster. For fifteen minutes we giggled together. It was the most fun we've had in awhile - and it almost didn't happen.

I'm glad it did.

Grandma Bernice

2011-07-02T10:12:00.001-05:00

When I married my husband I inherited his Grandma Bernice. She is one of my most favorite people in the whole world.

She gave me this mug for my birthday, and I drink my morning coffee from it everyday. It makes me so glad. Who doesn't love Holly Hobbie?! It says, "Start each day in a happy way." So I do.

Yesterday was a VERY special day.

Our mail lady delivered our mail to us seven hours early because she had a package for us that was marked "perishable" and it was a million degrees outside. The package was from Grandma Bernice. It contained donuts. Donuts!!! Old fashioned cake donuts.

I don't have a picture to show of them, because we ate them all.

And now, a little story about Grandma Bernice's donuts:

Yesterday, my two and a half year old brought me the donut he had taken several bites out of and said, "here, mom."

I took it, thinking "Hmm. Maybe he doesn't like donuts? More for me!" then asked him, "Is this for me? Are you done? Can mommy finish this donut?" (Because it would be a shame to waste any!)

He said, "Sure, mom."

So I ate it.

And then he said, "Can I have a fresh donut, mom?"

He had dropped the one I ate on the ground.

Classy.

Jude 2

2011-06-04T08:13:00.003-05:00

Mercy :: Peace :: & Love

for Poppa and Nonna

recently, for a fundraiser

2011-06-01T11:07:00.000-05:00

oh the humanity!

2011-05-27T09:44:00.001-05:00

My son had a dentist appointment on Monday. A funny thing happened. And by funny, I mean crappy.

A friend watched my other kids for me, so it was just me and my boy. He isn't ready to "go back" alone to the chair, so I assumed my position in the corner of the exam room. I love this dental office. The hygienists are all wonderful, as are the assistants...and I normally really like our dentist. HOWEVER! Monday, when the dentist came in to drill out my boy's cavities, after greeting him he asked how I was feeling.

I told him I was feeling just fine. And thought, hmmm? That's a goofy question to ask. Usually people ask, "How are you?" but not, "How are you feeling?" right? Not that it's a big deal to ask how someone is feeling...it just seemed out of context. But whatever. I was feeling fine, and it was kind of him to ask.

Then he asked if I wanted a chair. Another kind inquiry. I was totally fine to be standing. Another chair sort of hogs up a lot of room in that little space, and I really didn't mind, so I said I would be just fine standing.

"We like to take care of mamas," he explained.
And his assistant died a little death in her chair. She was reading his mind.

When everything was finished and the dentist prepared to take his leave he looked at me and said, "Enjoy the second half of baby!" Which was when his assistant presented my son with the prize box with way too much enthusiasm and grandeur in a pay-no-attention-to-the-man-behind-the-curtain sort of way.

The next day I got an email survey from the dental office and was tempted to write "don't assume anyone wearing a tunic and not sucking in their stomach is pregnant" as a suggestion on how they could serve me better.

Then I ate a piece of cake.

slow down you move too fast

2011-05-19T11:45:00.004-05:00

Hello.

It's been a little while.

I had a bit of a computer virus last week. The week before? I don't remember. I was forced to go a lot of days without this connection to the outside world. It was a lonely time, friends. A lonely time. My husband has been busy with school and baseball. And writing papers. So it's been me and the kids and the kids and me many a night in May. Good times.

Since then, my girl....my eeny tiny baby girl, turned nine.

Nine.

That is half way to eighteen.

Fifteen minutes ago she looked like this:

Look at those eyes. My goodness. I didn't know my capacity to love until I had her. And once she was born and looked at me with those eyes, my insides turned all squishy and I began to say things like, "honeysugarpumpkinbutternoodleumpkins." Love trumps grammar and proper words.

I became so very aware of time. And how quickly it passes. Do you know how many times I've written about that? I don't either. But it's a lot of times. Because it's all I think about.

I've had three more babies since she was born. Three boys. They're wonderful. You just have no idea. These boys and this girl. My heart is so full.

one moment in time

2011-04-14T15:37:00.004-05:00

Imagine if you will:

The sound of a lone bagpipe.

Monotonous crescendos and decrescendos.

Add:

Two cymbals crashing together.

Again and again and again.

Along with:

The loud angry whistle of a {derailed} freight train.

As well as:

The horrible mews of a single cat being pulled in two opposite directions.

Can you hear it?

It is the soundtrack of my life.

After grocery shopping, after school, but before naps.

the chapel

2011-03-30T20:39:00.006-05:00

When I was young, there was a tiny little church that we would pass on our way to my Granny's lake cabin. It was a small chapel in the middle of nowhere. Once I asked about it, and someone explained that it was a place where people could go to pray. . I really liked that idea. . I still do. . The idea of a quiet and peaceful place set aside for prayers. It looked welcoming. Something reminded me of that little church today. And I thought about churches. And welcoming. And quiet peaceful places for prayers. . Is your church one of those? . Is mine? . What if I was a road weary traveler? And I came upon a church. Could I enter? During "business hours," sure. Or, maybe. Otherwise the doors are locked. Because someone might try and steal the sound system. Or the computers. Or the money. Or the stuff. Because stuff is really important. We can't have people stealing our stuff. I mean, God's stuff. He needs us to lock up tight so the bad guys don't come and spray paint graffiti on the cross. . We can't have that. . No sir. . No. As long as it's during regular business hours. Without ill intentions. With shoes and a shirt. A modest shirt. And no weird piercings or tattoos. . Um, and if you borrow a book, please fill out the proper form. We're going to need it back...and if you want to use room 430, you'll need to reserve it 2 weeks in advance and make sure you have approval from committee 54C. . . . . But how do I really feel? . . . . My Cute Jesus. . That's how I feel. My Cute Jesus fits in a box that I've labeled "My Dad was loving and my mom stayed home and fed us properly and my husband is good to me and my kids are obedient and my house is clean and I don't say bad words and I try not to gossip and I wear turtleneck sweaters and say please and thank you." So. Naturally. I love Jesus. Because. . Just because. Life has been good to me. And for that I am thankful. But because of that can I empathize? Can I love? Can I reach out and love someone? Someone whose dad wasn't loving? Whose husband is cruel? Who doesn't wear turtleneck sweaters? Who comes to pray past business hours? . Oh Dear God. Crack me wide open.

sisters...sisters...

2011-03-07T11:02:00.005-06:00

I know three people that will read that and finish the song in their heads. (Five, counting my mom and dad.)

Sisters.

I have three. (Six - almost - when I include my lovely in-law-ed sisters. Seven counting a beloved Summer Sister, who would also be able to finish that song.)

((Hi Sarah!))

I count myself one lucky duck in the sister department. Growing up in a family with one thousand girls means that if you can't find your own you can always find someone else's:

clean clothes
matched socks
ponytail holder
mascara
hair brush
comb
shoes
bobby pins
swim suit
(undies)
barbies

It was always better to ask forgiveness than permission. (Permission was never granted.)

Now that we are grown, I always have someone I can call when I need:

ideas for dinner
prayer
commiseration
help with parenting
instructions for dealing with sick kids
maternity clothes
baby clothes
big kid clothes
my clothes
purses
home decor

They all get my inside jokes. We often say the same exact weirdo thing at the same exact weirdo time. Heallow. There are three people on this planet with my same phone voice. Three that can be my exact same happy or sad when I am happy or sad. Three other people that know you are only supposed to give your parents presents that make them cry.

They know that when you are on the phone with them and they say, "Have you talked to J?" They must also say, "She's not pregnant." Unless she is pregnant. (Which she is not. And neither am I --in case you were wondering. Dad.) They let the sister with the news be the one to deliver the news...except for that one time I told H's friend Erin that H was expecting....but she looked the news out of me! And I told her she had to act surprised...which she did...and no one would have known...but I told on myself...and I never will make that mistake again! Because news that isn't mine isn't mine to share. Sisters know this rule.

They know all the rules.

And, they would love to go to the blind school and just see. :)

I love my sisters.

donuts

2011-02-26T07:50:00.006-06:00

Last night when my husband fell asleep on the couch, I covered him with a blanket. I took our tiniest tiny baby to bed with me, and anticipated the morning. Our Big Tiny Baby now has a big boy bed. Which means, when he wakes up at 5:30 he can get himself out of his room and well on his way to start his day. Namely, scooting himself downstairs and demanding milk.

Last night, I imagined him at the top of the stairs at 5:30 seeing his daddy down on the couch, and going straight to him for the milk. I imagined me sleeping until 10 with my tiniest tiny baby. I imagined a world with calorie free boneless chicken wings from Applebee's and peace and brotherly love.

::::

5:30 am --A sound! It is Big Tiny Baby. He is awake. He is at the top of the stairs. He is scootching down the steps. He sees his daddy. He goes to his daddy. He tells his daddy "Hi, Daddy." Daddy does not wake up. Big Tiny Baby comes back up the steps. In a few seconds I hear, "Hi Mom."

"Good morning, Buddy," I say.

And then, I become a genius, "Do you want a donut? Go and ask Daddy for a donut. He will bring you for a drive to get a donut." (Three of his most favorite things: Daddy, Donuts, Drives)

But then! My genius plan backfires....Big Tiny Baby(2.5) is excited by this. And wakes up the entire house (with the exception of Daddy on the couch--naturally) with loud talks of drives and donuts .

However! My boy (6) is reminded upon awakening that he and Daddy had planned a morning drive. In 3 seconds he is dressed for the day with all the gear he needs for the aforementioned drive. My girl, not to be left behind--and now hungry for donuts-- is ALSO dressed and ready for the drive AND she's made her bed.

I summon my energy reserves and slither out of bed. I make the other beds. I change two diapers. I start the coffee. I wave as four of my most favorites drive off into the sunrise towards donuts.

I can hardly stand it

2011-02-09T12:18:00.002-06:00

There are no words...this daughter of mine.

I am saving this...of course.

She's almost nine. And I know that I am teetering REALLY close to the edge of a tweenage cliff. One day when I'm a big loser, and I don't know anything, and certainly don't understand, I'm going to take this out and reread it. (Or I'll just recite it from memory.) And know that she's still in there somewhere.

I'm so lucky she's mine.

fin wail

2011-02-05T11:20:00.004-06:00

I baked banana bread yesterday.

When it was time to add the eggs, I realized I didn't have any. It was too late to turn back. Babies were sleeping so we couldn't make a quick run, and I didn't feel like bothering any neighbors.

What to do...what to do?

I love a good quandary. Especially a cooking quandary. The challenge small. The stakes low.

Sometimes I win. Sometimes I fail. This time, it wasn't quite a win, but it wasn't a fail, either.

The banana bread came out moist and cakey.

With a slight tang.

From the mayonnaise.

her big brown eyes

2011-01-30T14:41:00.005-06:00

I went to a concert with my mom and my girl the other night. At one point, my girl looked at me. And her eyes....big and brown and round. She was at once both the 8 1/2 year old she is right now, and the baby that she will always be in my heart. Those eyes.

I remembered the night before her first birthday. One whole year had come and gone. She would never be my tiny girl again. I cried. Hard. I woke up my sleeping husband. "She's going to be one." He didn't feel it like I did.

I was two years into a four year interior design program when she was born. Before I met her, I was sure I could keep pushing towards the career of my dreams. And then we met. My baby. My girl. My mom watched her for me while I attended classes. It worked. I tucked the pain of leaving her in my back pocket and finished another year.

The summer between years 3 and 4 of the program -that I worked so hard to get into- required an internship. I applied to a few places and was so excited to be hired to one that paid money.

That night before her birthday, I felt the sting of all that would be required from me that summer. All the time away. From the child that was no longer a baby. My girl. Growing so fast I could almost see it happening. I thought about just calling this place to tell them I couldn't do it. Quitting. Before I began.

But I couldn't.

We had sacrificed so much to get to where we were, and this internship would only be for a summer. But that summer turned into more. The 4th year in that program (my 6th college year) was busy with school-work and work-work. And I saw my girl at the end of the day. I put her to bed each night. And dressed her each morning. But the in between wasn't hers and mine. It was hers. And mine. Separately.

Everyday I sat at my desk I thought about how I would rather be sitting with her. I pressed forward, though, with that pain tucked away deep. I could still feel it.

And then, in an unexpected turn of events, we were expecting.

It was then I knew. There was no way....

....no way for us.

No way for me to tuck those feelings away any longer. It was time to tuck "my career" away.

That was almost seven years ago. I can feel that career being tucked away, but it doesn't feel painful....it feels good.

2011-01-26T11:14:00.006-06:00

"If I could hear Christ

praying for me in the next room,

I would not fear a million enemies.

Yet distance makes no difference.

He is praying for me."

~Robert M. McCheyne

one time...

2011-01-21T13:21:00.002-06:00

...I gave a woman the Heimlich maneuver at a Chinese restaurant. It felt like television. Only, no one clapped or cheered afterwards.
...when I was about 9 on a school field trip, I bought a Canadian coin from the mint in Winnipeg. Sealed in a plastic case, it had never been touched by human hands. On the bus ride home, I chewed it out of the plastic holder so I could be the first human to touch it.
...I drove my parents car around the block a few times. I was eleven. I told them about it. When I was eighteen.
...I saw ravens for the first time on a girl scout camp out. They were huge. I thought they were a sign of the rapture. For real. (They weren't a sign of the rapture. They were just regular ravens.)

Happy weekend.

breathing

2011-01-16T17:42:00.002-06:00

This site, A Holy Experience, feels like a good deep breath.

Wisdom.

Just....wow.

And the music.

I read, and then just let the amazing music play.

that's my boy

2011-01-12T15:53:00.003-06:00

"I could not live without a F18 Hornet and Destroyer."

"Inside the box is a A1 Abram's Tank it has 10 pieces of metal."

1 11 11

2011-01-11T16:05:00.002-06:00

2011-01-10T11:41:00.002-06:00

I am being reminded that God is God and I am not.

I know. Big news.

He is in control. I am not in control.

When I try to be in control? I lose control.

How many times will I need to be reminded?!

Made to Crave - Lysa TerKeurst

2010-12-27T18:43:00.001-06:00

Guess what I'll be doing differently (again) this new year?

shine a good light

2010-12-23T06:41:00.004-06:00

This is what's been on my heart this Christmas season:

If I'm "the only Jesus" someone ever sees...or I'm the one Christian someone knows...if I'm the face of Christianity and I'm a gigantic puke - a stink nugget - a worm, what kind of example am I being?

Hey! Jesus is awesome! But what about all these idiots...who let them in here?

(That last phrase is what I've been living out in the last since-my-baby-was-born.)

James MacDonald said something once that's been ringing in my ears. Here's my best attempt at paraphrasing:

You may not be the one to plant the seed, but let's don't stomp the soil all hard so that no one can plant it.

I don't want to be a soil stomper. I don't want people to look at me and say, "THAT'S what it means to love and follow Jesus?! NO THANK YOU."

So. I'm sorry I've been a puke. And that my light is a laser shining into your eyeball. I'm going to try and shine a nicer light. Because Jesus really is awesome. I'm not awesome.

I'm celebrating His birthday this weekend.

Merry Christmas.

2010-12-18T09:37:00.003-06:00

I should take a little break from writing...

...I took down yesterday's post because it may or may not have included hypothetical idiots, Fire Marshalls and burning hotels.

My husband read it and said it didn't sound like me. I told him that it was the most me I've ever been...because I'm nothing if not overly dramatic. And loony.

He was right, though...it wasn't very nice. So it's gone.

This is precisely why God didn't give me *laser eyes.

*Sometimes, when I am driving in my car and people make me mad, I think it would awesome to have laser eyes. However, I would be lasering people in the heat of the moment. And then my husband would tell me that it isn't like me to be lasering people with my eyes. And once someone is lasered, they can't be UNlasered.

So.

There you go.

Dumb and stupid

2010-12-08T10:03:00.011-06:00

I don't allow my kids to call people dumb or stupid. But, then, I don't allow my kids call people other mean names, either.

I allow them to call things dumb and stupid. Because sometimes things are dumb and stupid.

Context.

I worry that we, as parents, focus on minutiae and miss the point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I typed the above yesterday, and then took it back down...since context is good.....I thought I should provide a little for my rant.

(I don't want anyone thinking I'm specifically pointing fingers.)

The other day I had referred to something as having a stupid design. And 'stupid' rang in my ears. Just like 'shut up' always does. And 'crap.' Words that you were taught not to say in elementary. You know....'cause they're bad words.

But, are they?

I love 'crap.' I know it conjures up all kinds of yucky feelings, which is what makes it the perfect word to describe things.

What I was thinking about yesterday, was how we focus our attention on the words, and not the heart. I can call someone a mean name using nice words.

For example? My sister used to tell me that I had Grandma Hands. (I forgive you, Jen.) (ahahaaha!!) Now, she wasn't saying that my hands were loving and good at baking. She was saying that my hands were old ladyish and dorky. (Not that grandma's are old ladyish and dorky.) Should my parents have banned the word Grandma? Of course not. They should have made my sister pay me $300.

Kidding.

I would have settled for $200.

Anyway...you know what I mean. Less focus on the words, and more focus on the heart.

baby baby baby no

2010-12-02T10:40:00.003-06:00

I didn't get much sleep last night. Or the night before. Or 3285 nights before that. "I'm exhausted," I told my husband while he was getting ready for work.

"Why don't you try and take a nap today?" he offered.

"Hey! That is such a great idea! Why didn't I think of that?!" I said with way too much sarcasm and sassiocity. I decided to make it a priority to get a nap in this morning. When both the boys were napping (big kids at school) my nap window was open. But then I remembered I hadn't bathed in a lot of days. I say a lot, because I'm not exactly sure when I last did. Sunday? Saturday? I don't remember. Just keeping it real. So I took a bath. HEAVEN!

AND I fixed my hair. But here's the thing with that: I keep fixing it so that it looks like Justin Bieber's. I told my stylist sister about this problem a few weeks ago. Then I saw her, and she re-cut it for me, and styled it. Voila! No Justin Bieber. However, when I try to do it myself? Voila! Justin Bieber. Although when I think about it, it's probably like complaining the results aren't Chicken Kiev when you set out making chocolate chip cookies.

Anyhow.

My nap window is closed.

My tiniest baby is asleep in my lap right this moment and doesn't want to be set down. An issue I'll worry about in a few months. Right now, I'm content to sit and rock him. Cause I'm a rock star.

the tree

2010-11-28T11:54:00.003-06:00

I used to use only white ornaments to decorate the tree.

It was beautiful.

I scoffed at the idea of little hand made ornaments---perhaps I'd have a second tree hidden in the basement for such things.

Then I had children.

Whose little hands make ornaments.

And the tree takes my breath away.

when do the grown ups arrive?

2010-11-18T17:28:00.003-06:00

Last night as I was tucking myself and my teeny baby into bed, my not-so-teeny-baby woke up with a bark and a wheeze.

Croup.

I secured the teeniest.

My husband met me at the top of the stairs. So much for his productive work evening. We were both rushing to calm the seal down the hall.

He was inconsolable and couldn't breathe. I snatched him from his daddy, and instructed him to go and start some HOT water in the bathroom. I grabbed a blanket and threw it around our shoulders and went outside into the cold night air.

GOOD EVENING NEIGHBORS!!

He calmed.

He could breathe.

I could breathe.

We stood out there for as long as I dared...my mind racing....he needs the cold to breathe....I cannot catch a chill or I will get mastitis....he needs to be held....I have a one month old that will need to eat in an hour, or less, or more....where do we go from here?

To the bathroom. Steamy and warm. Not helping.

I pulled the big chair to the window and opened it a crack. Sweet Seal clamored to my shoulder and close to the air that could get into his lungs. Cold. Crisp.

Relax.

Daddy reminds me that I can't handle the cold, and he takes my place. I scurry to the basement and bring up blankets. Lots of blankets. Once they are sufficiently mummified I start googling.

Croup.

How did I know it's croup? How did I know what to do? Was it on TV? Who knows. I was glad for the knowledge. Google told me that I was supposed to do what I did. Thank you Google. I'm a mom, you know. Somewhere along the way I absorbed something useful. Thank goodness I didn't think about Anne of Green Gables and Ipecac.

All night long, daddy and big baby sleep blankets deep in fresh night air.

I snuggle my tiny baby and pray that he stays well. It's agonizing watching a two year old gasp for air. I don't think I can handle it with a newborn.

Today was a long good day. Daddy was able to stay and help. Thank God. There was no doing today alone.

Big baby spends the day in Thomas Jammies watching movies and sleeping on the floor. He seems well now. Moments ago he walked past and said good bye and made for the door. Trying the locks, he said he was going for a walk. "Okay?"

No. It's not okay.

But you're okay.

And now, we're three quarters of the way through bath time. Another day come and gone.

Life just keeps rolling on. Little rest for the weary, but the weary are glad.

It's okay.

chained elephants

2010-11-10T09:49:00.003-06:00

I heard the best "sermon" on the radio the other night.

It was about how baby circus elephants are chained to a stake dug deeply in the ground. They pull and pull and pull, then finally give up once they realize that they can't get loose. (That's not the great part.)

As mature elephants, they are still chained to a stake. The stake would never hold them if they tried to pull against it. They just assume that since the chain is there, and the stake is dug, they can't be loosed. So they stay. Chained.

The whole point was that we often believe some kind of lie about ourselves. A lie that keeps us chained. Held back. That if we only tried, we would find that we could be loosed.

I thought about myself. The lies that hold me back. My eating. I'm a good eater and always have been. I buy into the lie that I have no self control, and that I'm an eater and always will be. It's just who I am.

But it's a lie. I don't have to be a huge eater. I can have self control and be whom ever I want to be. No stake can hold me. I'm a huge elephant.

one fine day

2010-10-19T17:09:00.004-05:00

We'll hop in our car and head towards the big city.

Just the two of us.

We'll go to a museum. I'll wow him with my knowledge of art history. (I'm sure it will all come back to me.) We will discuss. Contemplate. Pontificate. Ruminate.

We'll go out for coffee. I'll be wearing heels and funky glasses. And jewelry. Big jazzy jewelry.

We'll walk downtown hand in hand. Go in fun shoppes. (ShopPES)

And then....

Then we'll go and buy a large gun.

We'll drive off into the sunset.

When the moon is shining brightly in the winter sky, we'll dress head to toe in white.

We'll walk silently into the night and find the perfect spot.

We will not speak. The only noise will come from the player we bring with us: the sounds of a dying rabbit. (Romance!) Followed by a gunshot - if we're lucky. Coyote. Coyotes?

We're not all that different, you see.

and a week later...

2010-10-13T12:42:00.003-05:00

He's here.

And he's amazing.

I remember when I was pregnant with our second baby how afraid I was that I couldn't love another baby as much as I loved my first baby....and how someone had told me this:

With your first child, it's like love is being poured to overflowing into a cup. It's so much love that it's spilling out in every direction. There isn't any way you can add more love to that cup. Which is why - before you've met your second, third, fourth baby - you can't fathom loving another just as much. Where would the water go? The cup is already full! But you don't have to worry! You are not adding more water. You are adding a whole 'nother cup.

I have four cups.

Filled to overflowing.

a tuesday

2010-10-05T16:16:00.003-05:00

Today is the last Tuesday I'll ever be the mother of three.

My big baby and I went to the grocery store where I am proud to say I didn't waddle. Or at least, I tried not to waddle.

We got the last few things we need before the new tiny baby comes. My big baby seems to know something is about to change. He's been extra huggly snuggly. I'm taking it all in.

Life is about to change in a very good way.

I can't wait.

nesting with cookies

2010-10-04T15:43:00.002-05:00

Baking is a good distraction.

2010-10-02T13:11:00.000-05:00

Happy birthday to my Dad!

Hope it's a special day!

Waiting game

2010-09-30T15:59:00.003-05:00

Had an appointment today and found out that I need to wait it out a little longer. My official ultrasound due date is today. The due date I've been counting down to is Saturday. My dad's birthday. I was really hoping to be induced on Saturday. Not going to happen. I could certainly go in on my own on Saturday...but that's not very likely.

I'm trying to keep a positive attitude.

I'm making a mental list of all the good things that can happen while I wait:

1. I can take more naps.
2. I can sleep for longer stretches at night.
3. I can leave the house at any given moment...as long as there is another adult around to watch the biggers.
4. I know what time everyone will be in bed at night.
5. I can eat sour cream.
6. I can eat onions.

That's about all.

Right now, I'm feeling REALLY tired and VERY cranky. Only 180 minutes until bedtime.

issues

2010-09-29T08:43:00.004-05:00

As it turns out, I like to be in control.

Of everything.

And I am not in control.

Of anything.

Working on issues today....trusting The One In Control.

eczema...

2010-09-26T16:53:00.003-05:00

My second born has been dealing with eczema f.o.r.e.v.e.r. Up until this summer it followed a predictable pattern: Bad in the winter, healed in the summer, bad again in the winter, healed again in the summer.

This summer we couldn't seem to clear it up.

His doctor suggested trying some diet modifications...thinking a possible allergen trigger. We can always go the route of allergy testing. However, if simply tweaking his diet could save him a few hundred needle sticks, we were all for it.

First we removed all nuts from his diet. Peanuts and tree nuts. This helped a little.

But not enough.

Next to go? Gluten.

Followed by an elimination of High Fructose Corn Syrup.

His skin started to look better. Much better.

I began to think that nuts weren't part of the equation, until I gave him a cookie containing pecans. INSTANT flare up. So nuts are still out.

Then I wondered about the gluten. We started slowly plugging wheat back in...but only 100% whole wheat. No problems. Whew. Maybe gluten wasn't an issue? Gave him a burger on a processed bun. INSTANT flare up. So crappy bread products and all purpose flour are out.

We haven't even bothered to reintroduce HFCS, because really...who needs that garbage? Unless you like a good hit of mercury every now and again.

While this isn't the easiest diet for a little boy to follow, it's not complicated. And it's worth it. SO WORTH IT.

For breakfast, he'll eat two plain eggs (which is the way he likes them best anyhow.) Or toast with jelly. (100% whole wheat, and a preserve with actual berries and sugar.) Some mornings I'll make scones, or banana bread...I've just gotten into the habit of using only whole wheat, oat, rice, or tapioca flours - sometimes a blend of all when I bake.

For lunch at school, I send a jelly sandwich, orange slices, string cheese, a homemade cookie, and a few potato chips. (the chips ingredient list is potato, oil, salt.)

Suppertime is surprisingly easy. I've just tweaked what we normally have to fit this new diet. My meatloaf and meatballs now contain brown rice in place of bread crumbs. In place of noodles, I use corn tortillas for lasagna. Any bready stuff is just whole wheat in place of what I used to use. I make sure he's getting plenty of protein at night to make up for any absence earlier in the day.

I wish I would have started this earlier. It's been so good for him and really, it's been good for the rest of us, too.

It only took four hours...

2010-09-20T15:23:00.003-05:00

...but I got the kids bedrooms totally cleaned out.

Organized.

Wonderful.

(Two trash bags full of broken things whisked away while they were at school.)

And the best part? Now that everything has a place, and it all looks new and exciting, they've been holed up playing since they stepped foot in the house.

twelve

2010-09-19T06:10:00.004-05:00

years
ago
today.

We were young.

We jumped into The Bigs.

We had no money.

A little stuff.

And all the doe-eyed optimism to propel us into the future.

And the future was good.

Is good.

nesting

2010-09-18T12:47:00.003-05:00

I've been pulling off vent covers and vacuuming inside them. Using an old tooth brush to scour any dust that isn't sucked away.

It's funny how fixated I become on areas of my home that are only ever cleaned when we are about to have a baby. As I move the fridge and stove and scrub the walls and floors behind and beneath I am reminded of the last time I did this task. Two years ago. It shows. I make a mental note to do this task more often.

There are projects I would like to tackle. Things in my mind that I can't quite silence. My vehicle. It's big. It needs to be cleaned. It's too hard for me to do most of it. I can't maneuver in all of its spaces. I got stuck half way between the middle and back seats a few weeks ago. I don't intend to try that again.

The kids rooms. They're mostly picked up - with a touch of chaos. A desk FULL of projects and project making paraphernalia. Beds being held up by the toys shoved underneath.

I worry about how it will get done.

But then, this nesting thing seems to be contagious. My girl organizes her art supplies. My boy removes several toys from his collection that he wants to sell at a rummage sale next summer. My husband wakes up this morning determined to clean out the cars...and I didn't even ask....he's even cleaning the carpets. Removing seats. Washing. Waxing.

There is even talk about vacuuming the basement.

!!!!!!!

So, today, I'll be sitting with my feet up eating Butterfingers.

And trying to go into labor.

By eating Butterfingers.

38 weeks

2010-09-16T09:47:00.003-05:00

And counting.

I've got a doctor's appointment this morning where I'll learn that absolutely nothing is "happening."

I know it's good to be boring in this circumstance, but just once it would be fun to have a STORY!

like:

I was shopping for groceries and right there in front of the butter *ta da* my water broke!

or:

I was cleaning the house when I started having contractions. They were three minutes apart! I had to call my husband AT WORK! And he had to come and we had to call a SITTER!

You know, stories that have jazz.

My stories go like this:

I was one hundred days over my due date, and the baby wasn't going to come out. So I went into the hospital on a scheduled day. They broke my water. They gave me pitocin. My baby was born 12 hours later.

Always a VERY WONDERFUL outcome, but so predictable! No drama! (*unless the other selfish hogs take up all the spots in L&D on my special day.*)

I'm wondering if they sell those special crochet hooks anywhere?

(Just kidding.)

((Maybe.))

Dear Future Daughter-In-Law,

2010-09-14T18:38:00.004-05:00

I am doing this for you.

When he hates everything in front of him at the table, I make him try anyway.

When he says he'll puke if he has to take a bite, I call his bluff.

When he says he doesn't like potatoes, I mash them up and hide them inside.

When he is "full," I make him take five more bites. (Not because I want him to be overstuffed, but because I know when he is lying.)

My dear sweet girl, for you, he will now eat (and enjoy!):

Broccoli

Spinach

Green beans

Carrots

Corn

Peas

Zucchini

Squash

...........

But he would prefer a jelly sandwich.

another cover

2010-09-10T12:30:00.002-05:00

I'm borrowing a swing from a friend. Only, she doesn't need it back when I'm done with it. It will find its way into another home when this new babe grows out of it.

I love that baby gear can be shared....is meant to be shared...

The swing we had with our first rocked many many more babies than my own. And an entirely different swing rocked my third.

This new-to-us swing had a navy blue plaid cover. It wasn't ugly. But it didn't match my mood. And I was on a sewing roll the day I covered my bouncy seat, so I threw together this:

It had to have some navy in it, since the frame is still navy. I thought about spray painting it...but since it isn't mine, I didn't want to make any irreversible changes. The cover can be removed, and it can be changed back to its original state.

bouncy cover

2010-09-09T07:00:00.002-05:00

I had an old bouncy seat that lived through my two other boys. It looked boyish. Plus six-years-ago-ish. With a hefty dose of ugly. So I covered it:

It still has light blue buckles and frame...but one can no longer make out the random zoo animal print beneath. And now it matches my furniture.

Am I happy with the results? Meh. It's better than it used to be. I'm okay with that.

poppy field

2010-09-08T07:00:00.000-05:00

sketchy bird

2010-09-07T07:00:00.000-05:00

blue bamboo

2010-09-06T07:00:00.000-05:00

poppy trio

2010-09-05T07:00:00.000-05:00

brown bamboo

2010-09-03T07:02:00.000-05:00

keeping busy

2010-09-02T10:20:00.003-05:00

Nana's Birds No. 2

A few weeks ago, my husband ripped off two of my appendages and brought them to visit their Grandma and Grandpa. My youngest and I stayed home.

Before they left, The Man made me several frames for paintings. (He makes the frames, I stretch the "canvas.") This was a big priority for him. Because he has known me for many moons. And he knows that me + too much time on my hands = hasty home remodel projects done with staple/glue guns.

He knew I intended on painting our bedroom. But I was given STRICT instructions upon their departure. He did not want to come home to any surprises. Every party has a pooper and that's why I invite him.

My big baby and I spent a lot of quality time together while the rest of our crew was gone. But he's a good napper. And I found myself with plenty of free time. So I painted. And painted. And painted. I'll share a painting a day for the next couple of days.

trying

2010-08-28T13:07:00.002-05:00

It feels good.

To try.

I've been buying into the lie that things are easier if I just relax. Put my feet up. Do nothing.

I'm not sure why I fall into that mindset so easily. There are just so many good excuses I can use. They all revolve around my current condition. But I don't want to use this pregnancy as an excuse. My family still needs to eat. And wear clothes. I know they appreciate a tidy house just as much as I do.

So I'm trying. I'm baking cookies when I feel like sitting at the computer all afternoon. I'm trying to prepare dinner in the morning while I still have energy. I'm trying to get creative with lunch time so we don't need to run to McDonald's every other day.

(By the way, I watched Food Inc. last night and don't think we'll be eating out ANYWHERE from now on. Pukers.)

I'm trying to tidy up when I want to be laying down. I'm trying to stay on top of the laundry.

I'm trying not to let laziness win. I rest when I need to. But I have found that I don't need to rest all the live long day. And a rest feels better when it's been earned.

parenting

2010-08-18T12:58:00.008-05:00

We hit the age awhile ago with the big kids where most of the parenting we had to do was maintenance. (At least for the time being.) We laid a foundation in their early years. He was easier than she. She is too much like me. Her will is iron. She gave me the biggest run for my money.

One time I cried.

And seeing me cry broke her from her tantrum. But with that brokenness, came a glimmer of power in her eyes. I was a little worried. However, that day was a turning point. Things started to get better. I was wiser choosing my battles. Because once you chose a parenting battle, you cannot lose.

With our oldest boy, my parenting arsenal was tappedwhen he was about two and half. My punishments didn't phase him. If I took away a toy, he didn't care. He didn't like that one anyway. Once I had visions once of starting all his toys on fire in the backyard as a punishment that might catch his attention. That was when I knew I couldn't come from a place of love when handing out consequences for him. So I enlisted The Dad. Dad is my boy's currency. If I had to call dad at work, he knew that it wouldn't be all fun and games and wrestling when he walked through the door at the end of the day.

It took one phone call.

And then we coasted.

Coasted right along.

Sure, little fires would flare. But those fires were pretty easily put out. I could say things like, "I hope there will be fast listening." Or, "I would hate to have to give a consequence." And they would tow the line....for the most part.

Thank you, Jesus.

But now. Now we have The Third Born Child. He is entering the foundation laying years. I had totally forgotten just how EXHAUSTING this phase can be.

He'll be standing on a chair, and I'll tell him to sit down.

"No."

Excuse me? Who do you think you are?! No?!? You can't tell me no. Unless I've asked you a yes or no question. And even then, it should be, "No, thank you." My big kids watch. Fascinated. Can we just tell her 'no?'

I'm trying to remember what we did with the others. He's too young for reasoning. He doesn't understand that I can call dad at work yet. So it's Game On.

It's plucking him off the chair every.single.time and saying the words, "Mommy said, 'sit down.' You need to sit down."

"Sit down," he repeats.

"Yes. Good job."

But it's everything. Or almost everything.

It's consistency. It's follow-through.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Talking and showing and teaching.

I'm hoping that Baby No. 4 will observe all of this and just kind of catch on on his own. Sort of a two for one foundation laying.

I'm ready for the coasting again.

At least until the teenage years.

and today,

2010-08-13T16:56:00.002-05:00

I've been dwelling on the fact that in a few short weeks, this baby will come out.

And I remember REALLY WELL what that feels like.

It feels like I want to die. But, you know, only for about 10 hours.

I'm really going to try and get him out myself this time. No pitocin. Pitocin is from the devil. And it's the only labor I know. Because, babies don't like to come out of me. They like to stay in. Until they're 9 lbs 6 oz. And eight days late.

Happy Friday!

2010-08-12T11:08:00.004-05:00

The fog laid a heavy blanket over everything out my window this morning.

I sat, coffee in hand.

Big baby boy at my side.

Small words from the night before began to dance through my mind.

"You look just like your Mom."

He said with such love to my littlest.

He didn't know they would be the kind of words that play back again and again.

I'm so glad I married that man.

Grandma Ruby's Danish Pastry

2010-08-05T16:22:00.004-05:00

These are good.

Really good.

Really, really, really good.

Danish Pastry
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cut 1/2 c butter w/1 c flour
add 1 tbsp water
Pat onto and ungreased cookie sheet into two 12 x 3" strips.

Let stand until next step is done.

In medium sauce pan, bring 1/2 c butter, 1 tsp almond extract, and 1 c flour to a boil. Beat until smooth - cool briefly - then add 3 eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition.

Spread over crust.

Bake at 350 for 45 minutes.

Cool completely.

Frost with powdered sugar frosting using almond extract instead of vanilla. (I used sweetened condensed milk...natch.) Sprinkle with sliced almonds.

I cut mine and put them in cupcake liners to serve.

Delicious!

(I saved you some in the freezer, Dad.)

a special kind of stupid

2010-08-03T07:44:00.010-05:00

{post edit: if you read this before all of my grammatical corrections, you saw my case in point.}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was doing a little sewing the other day.

My machine kept jamming up. I was getting so frustrated pulling out stitches every. single. time I tried to start this one seam. Two minutes prior, I had to "refill" my bobbin. I only had a few feet left to sew, so I quickly added a few lengths of string from the top of the machine to that bobbin, put it back in, but didn't re-thread the top thread all the way back through correctly.

It took me way too long to figure out where I had gone wrong.

The mistake was too simple.

And once I realized what I had done, I had a moment. A moment I've had four other times. The first time, I hadn't had the experience before, so I wasn't aware of what was going on. The last three times, I knew. That is, with my first pregnancy, I didn't know you get a special kind of stupid when you are pregnant. But the other three times, I knew. When simple things just don't make sense. When you lose words from your vocabulary. When you can't perform simple mathematics in your head. When you walk in a room and have absolutely no idea why.

So this moment I had....

....I had been so engrossed in my sewing, my mind was mostly empty. I realized what I had done, and for just a few seconds, that feeling of freaked out/excited/uncertainty washed over me. I wonder if I could be pregnant?

Well, Einstein, do you think?

And then I remembered. Yes! There is are very real possibility I could be pregnant.

Like, almost eight months pregnant.

Please tell me I'm not the Lone Idiot. What is this pregnancy phenomena. And does it only effect me?

Grandma Ruby's Norwegian Pie

2010-07-25T14:14:00.004-05:00

I almost didn't get any photographic evidence of this pie.

Three minutes after this picture was taken, this piece completely vaporized.

So mysterious.

SO delicious.

I am the lucky keeper of many of my Grandma Ruby's old recipes. Written by her hand. Her handwriting. Recipe cards yellowed by years. Stained. Wonderful.

I've decided it's time to start testing them out. Many of the things she used to make or bake most often are already in my cooking arsenal. I'm determined to test some of the ones I don't remember. This pie was one of them. And hallelujah, it was good.

------------------------------------------------

Norwegian Pie:

Mix 1 c flour and 1/2 cup butter - pat into bottom of pie plate and bake 20 min. (350 degrees)

Add:

2 eggs beaten

1 1/2 c br. sugar

1 c chopped walnuts

1/2 c coconut

3 tbsp flour

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp vanilla

pinch of salt

Bake 20 more minutes

Frost with pow'd sugar frosting. (I used sweetened condensed milk because it is a gift from the Lord.)

-----------------------------------------------

Now the recipe didn't give an oven temp, but I decided it must be 350. And that worked for me. It didn't tell me to let it set for a few hours, which I should have. Instead, I let it sit on the counter to cool for about 10 minutes before I couldn't take it any longer. The pie was fantastic, but gooey. The half that survived the night in the fridge set up beautifully. When I make it again, I'll give it several hours of set up before it needs to be served. If I can help myself. (Self control is a fruit of the Spirit...praying on that today.)

As I try more of these, I'll post them and the results.

Next up: Danish Pastry

(Did I mention I passed my glucose test?)

thursday...

2010-07-22T09:43:00.004-05:00

We've done some short trips in the past few weeks. I'm wiped out. The last few days have been peppered with slight tummy-aches for nearly everyone in our family.

I was tired before all of that, but now, now I feel like I could take a nap at the drop of a hat.

My mind is the only thing running in high gear. I've got a list of things I need to accomplish before baby no. 4 joins the ranks.

1. I (we) ((I)) need to name this baby.

2. Paint my bedroom.

3. Clear out a dresser for the baby's clothes.

4. Wash up the baby's clothes.

5. Make shutters for the big kids playhouse.

6. Paint the bathroom. (And rip down the wallpaper?)

7. Clean the basement.

8. Sort through my clothes.

9. Sort through the big kids clothes.

10. Figure out how to go into labor on my own.

11. Stop eating peanut M&Ms.

12. Wash the windows.

13. Give away 1/2 of our toys.

14. Find all the baby gear.

15. And clean it.

16. Take more naps.

17. Sew curtains.

don't try this at home

2010-07-10T21:34:00.005-05:00

I went to Applebee's the other night with some girlfriends.

Out of curiosity, I googled the nutritional information of my usual order of their classic boneless wings with blue cheese dressing. I did this before I went out. And guess what? They are only a little less than 1800 calories.

I still ordered them.

And ate every last one.

And ate nothing but salad and Kashi Go Lean the next day.

Which might have balanced things out had I not fried up pickles, cheese and jalapenos for dinner tonight.

My next doctor's appointment should be a fun one.

road trippin'

2010-07-03T08:41:00.004-05:00

Happy Independence Day!

We'll be celebrating near our old stomping grounds. Looking forward to the big adventure. It's always fun, always delicious.

Hope your weekend is wonderful!

family portrait

2010-06-25T16:16:00.002-05:00

a different kind.

just for fun....for V.

the most fun I've ever had painting.

found

2010-06-24T07:00:00.000-05:00

Last weekend my boy attended a birthday party. On the way home from collecting him, I drove past this:

Someone had set it on the curb. I stopped. What have we here? There was a man cleaning out his garage twenty feet behind this treasure.

"Excuse me, sir? Are you getting rid of this?"

"I am."

"Is it for sale?"

"You can have it."

"Really? Are you sure? Thank you so much!"

And because I look 50 weeks pregnant he quickly came over and said, "here, let me lift it in your car for you."

I was very happy. But I think he was even happier.

He pointed out the water marks as if to apologize for its condition. Hey, pal, who am I to complain? The price is right, and everything else in my house has water marks, so it will match PERFECTLY!

I like it just fine this way.

a rose by any other name

2010-06-23T09:50:00.003-05:00

Here I sit. Nearing week 26 of gestation. We know we are having a baby boy. The ultra sound lady kindly (ahem) included a photo with an arrow and such on our complimentary take home picture. Thanks.

While we are beyond thrilled to be welcoming another boy into our family, we have hit a snag. We have already used the only two boy names that we could agree on.

When we found out that our last two were boys, around the twenty week mark, we started referring to them by their names. I liked that. It sort of felt like we already knew them when they arrived. Their sibling(s) prayed for them by name. We talked about them. It gave a certain level of familiarity that was nice.

Plus, on some strange level, it soothed my controlling tendencies.

With the other kids, once we had chosen their name, it felt right. Right now it feels like I'm trying to force a name....and nothing is feeling right. The other kids have plain and simple and wonderful names. Who knew it could be so complicated to find a name to blend in to the mix?

Mary, Paul, John and Elliot.

(Those are not my kids names...but similar.....but you see how Elliot doesn't "go"? I like Elliot. It's too fancy for my husband. Which is the case for about every name I mention.)

Mary, Paul, John and Silas.

Mary, Paul, John and Nathan.

Mary, Paul, John and Benjamin.

Mary, Paul, John and Duncan.

Mary, Paul, John and Elias.

All of the above have been vetoed by someone I'm married to. And, because he teaches, 80% of names are already out of the question.

Who are you tiny baby?

Happy Father's Day

2010-06-20T11:11:00.004-05:00

Pancakes:
2 eggs
2 cups milk + 1 tsp vinegar (unless you have buttermilk on hand, then just 2 cups buttermilk)
3 Tbsp oil
1 Tbsp vanilla
1 Tbsp brown sugar
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda

Mix the first five ingredients together, then add the last three all at once.

Make sure your griddle is hot.

Today, we made them Dad-sized.

If I had enough space to vacuum I could solve the world's problems

2010-06-14T09:24:00.003-05:00

Maybe.

Probably not.

But I could solve a good chunk of my own!

I do my best thinking when I'm vacuuming. The hum of the machine drowns out the sounds of everything else.

Today I was remembering a conversation I had a long time ago with a friend. She shared wisdom with me that someone had shared with her. It was the kind of thing I need to remind myself of often.....

Years ago, she joined a bible study with women both young and old. God had been teaching her some big things in her life, and she was feeling some serious convictions. She shared those convictions with the group and felt that since she was being convicted, she would help them feel convicted, too.

Later that day, a kind older woman took her aside. She gently reminded her that personal convictions from God are wonderful, powerful things. But that they're personal. They aren't always meant for everyone around you. Sometimes they might need to be shared...but we need to measure our words, so that we aren't passing judgement in the name of imparting wisdom.

This information served as a wake up call for me. I go through times when I'm being pulled and stretched and convicted on all sorts of things. Sometimes it's uncomfortable. Sometimes it's exciting. Every time it's a growing experience that moves me in the right direction.

But I need to remember that what is being done in me is personal.

If there's a show that I don't feel like I should watch, or a book I shouldn't read, or a place I shouldn't go, those are things God's doing in me. He knows the ways I'm impacted. He knows my heart.

He didn't make everyone just like me, and He's not working in everyone exactly like He's working in me.

We're not all at the same place in our journey. You aren't going to have the same struggles as I do. Sometimes He allows us to go down a road to learn a gigantic lesson. Sometimes He puts a person in the road to share some wisdom....sometimes He doesn't.

Sometimes the person in the road ran there of their own accord. And you want to drive right over top of them.

All of this was to say that I was reminded today that convictions are powerful and personal. Sometimes they are meant to be shared. Sometimes they are not.

I'm praying for the wisdom to know the difference.

And for a heart that doesn't want to judge.

fyi...

2010-06-10T18:19:00.002-05:00

Every now and again, there will be a comment here from someone in China. Or Thailand? Or Japan....somewhere with a lovely Asian alphabet. I never know what they are saying, but I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with what I'm saying. It's some kind of spam, that if you click on what they write you will find yourself transported to some grody {adult} site.

I usually catch the comments and delete them.

But just in case you should see one and wonder....I'm saving you the trouble of further investigation.

Maybe there's a way to block them? I have no idea.

Just wanted to give a heads up.

And if you should know how I can prevent them in the future, that would be slick.

Carry on.