Halfway

So this is what half way looks like.

Halfway to a drive to the post office, a card that says "I'm 18." A possibility that will make my heart ache with fear and pride.

I remember the day we met. You had been mine for nine months already, making me sick, making me miserable, making me sleepless with worry and anticipation and leg cramps.

You gave me stretch marks, even though you weren't that big and I didn't gain that much.

You put me through pain through two miserable nights of sleepless agony. Back labor. Homebirth. No relief from the pain except during those moments in the hot water when I would pass out from the exhaustion with my head hanging over the side of the birthing tub. Aunt Raini held my shoulders up because my strength was gone.

Into the water you were born, and in that moment I not only met you - I met myself.  Hello, Little Mother, you are stronger than you thought you were!, my heart said at the same moment I saw you.  Aloud, to the rest of the world, I said, "Joshua. His name is Joshua.", for it was my pleasure and privilege to introduce you to everyone else. You belonged to just me no longer. It was the beginning of this journey of yours from helpless babe in my arms to independent man, standing alone in this world before God and everyone else.

But never believe you are alone. We may be halfway through this part of our journey together, but I'll always be with you. You can't get away from me. I'll be the little voice in your ear that says, "Put the toilet seat down, son!", even in the middle of the night when you're in a college dorm room with only guys. Of course, you'll ignore that voice and leave the seat up forming a bad habit that will cause your wife to fall in the toilet someday when she's big and pregnant. But that will be for you guys to work out.

Yes, someday you'll be hers. She will be the light that draws you forward, the comfort that brings you home. And though that day is still far off, I can't help but think about it. You see, the first half of this journey from baby to man has gone so fast, I think one day I'm going to wake up to find my life has been on fast forward and just look around to see a man in a tux and a girl in white and I won't even know what happened.

Remember the snuggles for me. Remember the stories read and the songs sang. Remember the prayers repeated with childish words.

I don't know what the second half of this journey looks like. But I know you'll be the first to complete it, and that it will be gone faster than I wish for. I know the memories we will make won't look at all like the memories we made in the first nine years, but I know they will be as deep, as lasting, as bonding to our hearts in different ways.

 In nine years, maybe your plans will keep you close to this home of ours, close to my hearth, close to your home-cooked favorite things. And maybe the plans you've heard God calling you to will take you far away from my arms. I know this, though: I won't be ready. But you will be. You will be. And like the amazing, God-ordained process by which you came to be in my arms that November day 9 years ago, I will have as much control over it in 2021 as I did in 2003.

It will be okay. I'll be held up by the many arms of mothers who've walked the path before me, by your father, by Auntie Raini. Hopefully, at the end of that day, I'll hear my heart whisper those words once again, "You are stronger than you thought you were."

Because, like you always, always have, you've given my life more purpose, my heart hope, my soul joy. You've reminded me daily of why God values me:

A Parent's Love.

And that never changes.

I love you, Joshua.

The One That Gives You Pie

Last Sabbath we had a church full of littles.

21 of 'em, in fact.

That's awesome, right?

21 children in the church and all but two under the age of 10.

4 two-year-olds.

And see, here's the catch. There were only 24 adults to go with that wonderful cacophony of BABIES!

Oh, but it was wonderful. We loved it. And the rest of the church loved it too. I can only praise God that our church family loves our babies and WANTS our babies there.

We loved it so much we invited 9 of those kids (and their parents) to come play with our 4 for the rest of the afternoon! Lots of fellowship and the occasional shenanigans ensued, making it a very blessed Sabbath indeed!

Colby sent them on a treasure hunt to the barn where he had hidden an old "treasure chest" under the floor boards of the old '56 Ford. It was a riot watching them all running here and there and searching the dark recesses of cobwebbed corners. They debated the reading of the map so many times they couldn't remember who was doing what where.

When they'd finally found it they immediately set forth to return the favor and hid some "treasure" for Colby to find.

Just a bunch of country kids traipsing through imaginary rainforests, hauling trunks full of treasure from their shipwrecked galleon, burying it 20 paces from the north-facing rock that looks like a monkey's face. Good times! Great memories.

Growing up, my own fun memories usually involve my brothers and my cousins. But I also have some wonderful memories of adventures with the church family youngsters. What a blessing it is to have friends for my kids that have the same values, principles, and hopes! It's the memories of these times that bond those kids together and give them a sense of belonging within loving friendships when they're questioning what place is theirs in this life.

So anyway, a few months ago, at a potluck, I was standing with my oldest daughter at the dessert table, waiting to help her scoop up some pie. Unfortunately for her, by the time she was next in line, there was only one piece left. The young man in front of her scooped it up on the spoon and my daughter turned to me with big eyes and whispered, "Oh, I was hoping to have a piece of that pie!"

The young man (10 years old) overheard and immediately turned and plunked that scoop of pie right on Emmy's plate. No hesitation. No regret. No selfishness.

I just about burst into tears.

Emmy's my girl that's a wild card. She's going to want to drive a fast car, or WORSE... ride around with a boy in a fast car. She's the one that keeps me up at night, worrying about what life when she's 17 is going to do to me.

All I could think in that moment was,

"Marry the one that gives you his pie, Emmy-girl. Marry the one that gives you his pie!"

Wordless Wednesday - 5 Years

Help!

So there I was, at the end of Day 2 of a 10 day Juice Fast. My day had been spent praying for the headache to go away and trying to get kids to read quietly for, oh, about 2 hours longer than they normally do.

Dinner is, of course, a lovely time of day when you're juicing, but I made it through. Colby had a church board meeting, so I fixed him a plate, cleaned everything up, and started running a bath for Evelyn while the big kids ran outside to play.

Ahh... a peaceful moment to sit while the baby played in the water. I couldn't wait till Colby was home, all I wanted to do was go to bed and SLEEP! Turning the faucet off before the water got too deep, I sat back and rubbed my throbbing temples.

And then I heard the screaming.

Not one kid screaming.

Not two kids screaming.

No, that was the sound of all THREE kids screaming bloody murder.

Before I could get the baby out of the tub to go investigate, they all streamed into the house and made a beeline for me in the bathroom....with Elayna looking as if she'd just been the main character in a horror film.

Blood.

Everywhere.

So much blood. Streaming down her face, down her neck, covering the front of her shirt.

Blood was matted in her hair in an enormous patch on the top and side of her head.

I grabbed her up and sat down on the lid of the toilet and reached for a towel - but there were none on the shelf! (What was I planning to do about a baby in the bathtub with no towel, anyway? Who knows!)

I couldn't LEAVE the bathroom to find a towel, mind you, because there was still a toddler IN THE BATHTUB.

"Okay, Joshua, I need to you please quickly get me a towel!"

"There ARE no towels, Mom!"

"A kitchen towel, then! QUICKLY!"

Right about then Emmy started shrieking, "I don't LIKE this!!!!!"

....and ran out the front door.

To go who knows where.

Joshua brought me a towel and I applied pressure to Elayna's head while trying to decide whether NOW was the time to call 911. And in that moment I had no idea where my phone was. I sent Joshua to track it down for me.

He brought it to me quickly and I sent him off again to find me a towel for the baby.

I called Colby, and the conversation sounded something like this:

"ARE YOU ON YOUR WAY HOME YET?!"

"Yeah, what's wrong?"

"I HAVE A BLEEDING CHILD AND SHE'S BLEEDING BAD AND THERE'S BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE!!!"

And then the phone went dead. Apparently that's what happens when a worried Daddy stomps the accelerator down while driving on a road where you get sketchy service at best.

Okay. He'd be home in about 5 minutes and what relief knowing that brought me! I ventured a peak at Elayna's head and was immensely glad to see that the blood had stopped running freely!

I set her down and told her to keep the towel on her head while I got the baby out of the tub. I quickly dried Evelyn off and asked Joshua to bring me a pull-up. He brought me the whole package. I remember trying to sound calm and cheery as I said to him, "Thank you! I don't need the whole package, just one! Can you put the rest of these back for me?"

He looked at me like I was Nutso.

How could I blame him? Less than a minute before I was yelling into the phone like the panic crazed woman that I was!

I sat back down with Elayna and held the towel again.

Evelyn was wandering in and out of the bathroom, trying to see what was going on, trying to play in the bathwater that wasn't draining quickly enough, and exploring the contents of the cabinet while I talked with Elayna and Joshua about what had happened.

And then I look up at Evelyn as she walks out the bathroom door with her potty seat ON HER HEAD.

Oh. My. Word.

Can't we just SLOW the CIRCUS TRAIN down here, kids?! PLEASE?!

"Joshua, get it off of her head!!!"

"But it's funny!"

"GAHHHHHH!!!! It's not funny, please just get it OFF of her!"

Yeah.

I was torn between asking Joshua to take Evelyn out to the living room to keep her occupied and sending him outdoors to find Emmy. In fact, I'm fairly certain I asked him to do both. At the same time.

And somehow he did. I'm not sure how, but he did both for me, and did them, like he'd done everything else that night, without complaint, without question, and extremely well. He was my little rock, and I'm so glad I had him there to help me. Somewhere in that short space of time he got clorox wipes and cleaned up all of the blood that was everywhere from the door to the puddle in the bathroom, too.

Colby came home, and we began to really assess Elayna's head wound. The bleeding had, indeed, stopped, but getting a good look at the wound itself was next to impossible - the blood had matted her hair to her head like glue. Colby started with a wash cloth and washed her face, neck, and arms, then worked a little at the edges of the matted hair. Elayna wanted to see. So she stood up on my legs and watched in the mirror. And then she took the wash cloth and started scrubbing at her hair like nobody's business.

And that's when we knew she was going to be fine. Poor little girlie. This pic was after she'd been cleaned up quite a bit.

I sat her in the tub and rinsed her head with clean water until the matted hair was all loose and clean. The wound itself? MAYBE 1/4" long gash. Fully clotted, not open at all, and would not require stitches or even glue.

We didn't even put any sort of band-aid on it.

Praise God!!

Just when I was used to the poop stage, I guess it's time to get used to the blood stage. Unfortunately, I think this one lasts longer, especially when we live in the country, where horses, four-wheelers, tractors, and mud trucks are not just tools and toys, they're a way of life!

Toothbrushes and Toddlers

At the moment I have one child-size toothbrush jammed down the bathroom sink drain, one in the garbage can after being retrieved from the drain, and two just plain MIA. And no, that's not because I haven't thought to replace them lately, that all happened THIS WEEKEND.

What IS it with small children and toothbrushes?!

I'd fare better if I just bought a stockpile of them from toothbrushes"R"us and called it a day. Then they could be really disposable. Use it once, throw it away, kids!

And then I'd get a sharps container like the ones they hang on the walls in the mall bathroom.

That way they wouldn't be fished out of the garbage and used by little miss Babycakes to brush the dog's teeth right before shoving it in her own mouth.

Or brush the dog's fur.

Or scrub the floor/window/toilet/chair/piano/cupboard/stove/what-have-you...

Once I even absolutely insanely bought the kids these cool toothbrushes with suction cups on the bottom so you could suction them right to the edge of the sink - UPRIGHT so no germs contaminate them.

Except that it was much, MUCH more fun to suction them to the MIRROR, then laugh hysterically when the suction failed and they popped off and shot across the room, landing in random places all over the bathroom.

**shudder**

No matter how many times they were cautioned against it, those suction cups were entirely too entertaining to resist, and now and then after the children had all brushed their teeth and gone to bed I'd be sitting in the living room and hear the tell-tale "Pop!" of a toothbrush and the thud of it landing...

**shudder**

Those didn't last long.

At all.

My personal favorite is watching Evelyn get a hold of MY toothbrush and wander around the house with it. It doesn't seem to matter where I hide it or how high up it has been put, she has radar for it.

I thought toothpaste was bad. For a while there the kids would have toothpaste smeared around the sink like a hot glue gun gone wild, until I learned it was best to just hide that, too, and move the hiding place every few days so they wouldn't catch on to where it was coming from when I'd personally line them up and dot their toothbrushes every morning and night without letting them close enough to squeeze the ever-lovin' ENTIRE contents out of touch the elusive toothpaste tube.

I mean, I guess I could start hiding the toothbrushes, too, right? Maybe in a ziplock bag in a drawer in the fridge. Seems to be the only "hiding" place left that hasn't been stuffed full of other contraband not-for-children items until it gets discovered by grubby little hands, decimated beyond recognition, and shoved back into place surreptitiously until I discover the carnage at some later time.

Confession: Usually when I find that one of my hiding places has been discovered, I peek in, grimace and groan, then close it back up, preferring to pretend my house is NOT full of these pockets of disaster clean at all times and well-organized.

Maybe what I need isn't stock in a toothbrush company, maybe what I need is to hire someone to come organize my house (while I conveniently take a vacation, of course).

Then I'll have lots of new hiding places for things again!

Problem solved.

The Feel of Cheap Things On My Skin

I *like* the feel of cheap things on my skin. 

Raindrops falling softly on a spring day.

Flannel sheets on a cold winter night.

My husbands arms around my waist.

The sand between my toes at the edge of the Torch Lake Sandbar.

Silky baby hair brushed between my fingers.

Soft, warm kitty fur against my cheek.

Ice cold creek water against bare skin on a hot, sticky summer night.

 Wind through my hair on a drive with my husband.

A hot shower after a long night up with babies.

Big kid hugs and baby's butterfly kisses.

Sometimes I feel a bit deprived without the luxuries I see someone else enjoying, but if I stop to really think about it....

No amount of money in the world could come up with anything but "cheap" substitutes for the real-deal things I've listed above. I'd rather have my feet in the sandbar than in a pair of Louboutins. I'd rather run my fingers through a baby's silky hair than over dupioni drapes. I'd rather have the wind through my hair riding shotgun in my husband's old truck that's paid off and way more function than fancy than in a Bentley. I'd rather dive into Torch Lake than take a Caribbean vacation. I'd rather have those flannel sheets than 1200 thread count Egyptian cotton sateen confections!

Okay, that last one is a poor example of real-deal vs. expensive substitute, but flannel sheets just absolutely ROCK when you live in the cold white north. "Uninhabitable", as my dad says!

So next time I am tempted to feel deprived, I'm going to look around and think of the things in my life that are the Real Deal. I'm going to stop to thank God for them, enjoy them, and appreciate them for what they are:

"Cheap" things that make me one of the richest women in the world.