Just say no

If I ever invite you out for lunch, just say no. Otherwise, some or all of the following may occur:

• I'll arrange to meet you at a great ice cream place that happens to be closed on the day we go.
• You're a good sport and up for an adventure, so we go (with all 7 children between us, by the way), to a local Mexican joint.
• As soon as we get our food (10 mins apart because of the huge line that's suddenly turned up), I realize that Daniel's had "an accident". A big one.
• Kindly, you don't comment on how gross it is that I'm now eating with one hand while the other hand covers the yucky patch on Dan's leg - you have excellent manners.
• You have to listen to all the "having your hands full" comments, with great grace and a light heart, not to mention the well-meaning fellow who's trying to wrangle you some ill-gotten free food.
• After I take Noah to the bathroom, you make a mental note to wait until you get home to use the facilities, since Noah experienced some "aiming malfunctions".
• Finally, when you're almost ready and in the car, you will (briefly) misplace your keys.

So, unless you are my sweet friend Kate or another similarly adventurous spirit, don't come out to lunch with me. I'll totally understand.

Again

It happened. Again. Went to Kohl's to return a pair of sandals (the stupid rivet came off the strap hours after I bought it - because you really wanted to know). Taking the long way through because the kids were being really good.

And there she was. A sweet-looking elderly woman, looking for a new pair of Keds (presumably). She watched me walk by with the 2 little ones in the double stroller, a wee smile on her face. Then, as the other three walked past her, trailing in my wake, her eyes got bigger and her mouth opened wider. She looked at me, slightly aghast: "Are they all yours??" "Yes, ma'am".

And this is the part that gets me. In a world of smaller families, I can understand the raised eyebrows of seeing a big(ger) family, especially ones where all the kids are so close in age, really. I don't mind questions - that indicates to me someone who wants to understand, who knows they don't have all the answers. But when someone (like this lady) says, "Well, God bless you!" in that tone of voice, it kind of bugs me. Somehow it doesn't seem like the Almighty has been petitioned on my behalf in the middle of the shoe department. No, it sounded more like she meant to say, "God help you, you over-productive glutton!" Granted, that's not actually what she said, so maybe I shouldn't assume, but I've heard the comments enough to sense the tone.

Fortunately, God's grace abounds. When my children hear these comments and look at me, as if to say, "What's wrong with us, Mom?", it gives me the opportunity to put my arm around them, look my accuser in the eye, and with a smile assure them, "Yes, He really has!"

My Baby

The Amazing Danielle did an fantastic job for this photo shoot. Patient, so patient, she was. It's such a pleasure to watch someone work when they so clearly love what they do - she would quietly giggle when Dan did soemthing cute and murmur to herself over getting just the right angle.

She's so good, in fact, that she even got a shot of me that I like!

If anyone wants a print, let us know.

Why I Love *My* Local Church

I finished reading Why We Love The Local Church a little while ago, and found it to be such an encouragement. It really got me to thinking, especially following this past weekend's Ladies Retreat, about some of the things I love about my own church...things like:

• A church full of husbands and fathers that take time off work so their wives can go away for a couple days
• Folks who give extra money (anonymously) so that women who are strapped for cash can go
• the fact that scores of women (and a few men) arrive early and stay late to set up, clean up and serve all day long, and tell you they were blessed to do so
• the parents who cheerfully give a Sunday every month to serve other people's kids in children's church
• the single people who cheerfully give a Sunday every month to serve other people's kids in children's church
• the fact that I never once had to carry my very heavy bag from the moment it was packed - there was always someone else offering to hike it around for me
• the knowledge that not only will someone happily grab Eleanor for me when she runs off (again) while my hands are full of coats and craft projects, but no one judges or criticizes me for not having a better handle on her
• the fact that it's not perfect - if it was, it would have no room there for someone as imperfect as I

I have a great church, no doubt about it. I know, however, that I'm not the only one. What do you love about your local church? Share, and thank God for it!

Tip of the Day

For homeschooling with preschoolers , try some hands-on things that still meet the "fun but educational" requirement.

For Christmas, we received this toy.

It doesn't get used as often as it should, but I think I'll be working it into our days a little more.

It's fun, creative, colorful, and doesn't roll off the table like those wretched lacing beads do. Plus, smaller siblings can't swallow them. Good to know, right?

Pouches

I am so loving this zippered pouch thing. I could make loads, if only I had an unlimited supply of zippers...

Thankfully, I learned my lesson after the last whoops - fabric is all the right way around!

I don't have a particular purpose for all these little sweeties, but it's a great way to use some scrap material. If anyone wants one, let me know!

The Helper

Eleanor has been proving herself to be quite the little helper lately. Whenever Daniel has a diaper change, she gets rid of the (well-sealed) dirty one for me. (There was the one time she put the disposable diaper in the toilet rather than the trash can, but never mind that one.)

Today, she even climbed up onto her own changing table for a change of her own. A new trick, this, and a slightly terrifying one at that. Still, it was kind of cool.

But some of her help....well, it's not very helpful. Like counting the tissues in the tissue box...

Yeah, not so much with the help, there.

She's still cute, though.

Brief

Everything about this season of life is just that - brief. Sleep is brief. Daniel's babyhood will be brief. Spare time is brief. And so, time for making things is also brief. So, we make as much of the time as we can, with short little projects that are either quickly finished or easy to leave and pick up again later.

Like these little hats. Made from SouleMama's pattern, these will probably go to some little heads over at the local crisis pregnancy center. Each one takes about 5 minutes to make.

And this shirt. It was a dress I'd bought from the thrift shop a while back and wore maybe twice before realizing it's a little too short. I was going to get rid of it, but Toby claimed to like the style, so I thought cutting the skirt off and giving the bottom a nice rolled hem might be the way to make this thing work.

I felt rather triumphant about this one, since it's the first time I've been able to make the rolled-edge hem on the serger come out the way I wanted. I love it when a plan comes together.

And where is Daniel while all this is going on? Oh, he's either in bed (sleeping during the daylight hours, little goof ball that he is), or he's here:

I put this together with some linen fabric before he was born. We'd borrowed a great ring sling from a friend for Eleanor, but Toby couldn't bear to see his little son carted around in something so pink. And I understood. So, based on the rough design of the borrowed sling, Dan gets one of his very own, in decidedly bright, yet gender-neutral, colors.

And sometimes, he even enjoys being in it.

I'm a Dork, and My Kids are Weird

Abigail lost another tooth the other day. She asked for a special box to put it in under her pillow - a perfectly-sized little jewelry box. Under the pillow it went. And stayed there. The next day she woke up, came out to the living room, and said in the little voice she uses when she's disappointed but trying to be patient, "The Tooth Fairy didn't come last night." The kicker in this is that she knows I am the Tooth Fairy! I apologized profusely, thoroughly chastised. Just to make sure I got the point, I found a note taped to the wall last night: "Don't forget to do my tooth." Needless to say, I didn't forget, but nevertheless - I am a dork.

After a very disrupted night's sleep - to the point of sleep being virtually non-existent - I woke to enjoy some of the following conversation with my children:

Anna calls the pins-and-needles sensation "bees in my toes".

Abi claims to like the pins-and-needles sensation so much that when it goes away, she tries to make it come back. (No insights on how she does that, though.)

Noah's decided that he likes Tinkerbell because it rhymes with "Noah".

Just another venture into the Twilight Zone with my weird kids.

The Story

No gory details, I promise.

So I went to bed late Friday night (5 March), surprisingly peaceful about not having had the baby yet. I know that sounds kind of lame to all those who have gone rather overdue, but the other 4 children all either came on their due date or a couple days early - all except Anna, who came 2 days late. So I've gotten to be kind of a wimp about it all. But this time, it was okay - Daniel would arrive in the Lord's perfect timing, and I was feeling pretty okay with that.

1am. Waking up feeling uncomfortable. Was that a contraction? I think so, but I'd been having them off and on for a couple of days. Uh-oh, I think my water broke...yup.

Now I am fully awake. Can't eat or drink once I'm at the hospital, but my labors tend to take so long, I'll be needing a snack before we leave. For the next hour, I'm wandering around the house, eating, drinking, and generally sorting out last minute stuff.

By 2.30am, I want to have a shower - I hadn't done that when Ellie was born and really regretted it. So, I make Toby a cup of tea, explain that I'm going to grab a shower before we need to leave for the hospital, and leave him to process the information while I get ready. He's so good - by this time, he knows he doesn't need to rush or worry, but is still ready when it's time to set off.

By 3am, after a call to the doctor and a call to the Rishels (who pulled the short straw for nighttime child duty), we were on our way.

When I arrived, they put me at 4 cm. Because every contraction was in the small of my back (i.e. back labor, i.e. exhaustingly excruciating), I went for the epidural as soon as they could get it to me. Have I mentioned how wonderful epidurals are? Wanna kiss the soul who came up with it...

When I could happily feel nothing but a vague tingle in my toes, Toby took a nap on the pull out bed and I in my "havin' a baby" bed. We happily passed a couple hours like this: dozing, enjoying an ice chip or two, knitting a row or two, dozing some more.

Right after the epidural took effect, the doctor announced that I was now 5 cm along. Cool. A few hours later, a little after 8am, I was still 5 cm. Disappointing, but not surprising. So, pitocin (the hormone that makes the contractions more productive) got involved, and that's when things got exciting. It wasn't long before I was hitting the epidural button a bit more often - not that the contractions actually hurt, but I was becoming more aware of them.

Around 9.15am or so, I started noticing this pressure, like something was "happening". The kind doctor had a quick look and said, "Oh, that would be because the head is there. Let's have this baby, now, shall we?" Honest to goodness, I thought he was teasing. I kept looking from him to Toby to the nurse, saying, "Really? Really??" Two good pushes later, and I got the first look at my new son, and even got to cut his cord - a first for me.

I so feel like I cheated. No drama, no concerns with infection, no cord wrapped around anything - just a peaceful, straightforward, quick 8 hour delivery (my fastest yet). I can honestly say that every one of my labors has been a wonderfully positive experience, even when things haven't gone to plan. What a blessing, though, that everything did go to plan, and God made the whole thing easy - just because He can.

I am one thankful mama!