This is the announcement we used to share our "big" news with the Facebook World. While I really liked my boots in the picture below, I thought the above pic more clearly communicated the message. But back to the boots...I mean, who even knows how much long I'll be able to squeeze my unavoidably growing ankles into those cute boots? So, I will keep this picture and dream about the days when my pregnant body will once be manageable again...so vain, I know.
This is how we told the older two. They were SO delighted to hear about their new baby. So much so that the next morning, as soon as McKlayne saw me she ran up to me and started kissing my baby belly as she gushed, "I just can't believe it, we're having another baby..." Followed by Asher who told me, "When I was laying in bed last night I just couldn't sleep...and tears were even coming out of my eyes because I'm so excited." McKlayne has told me no less than 6 times in the last 24 hours, "Oh, Mommy, your belly is getting BIGGER!!!" Yes. Yes, it is. And, it will continue to for the next 30 weeks...I have already begun warning her that it will also take a while to get "small" again after the baby is here.
Okay, this is a long video, but I thought that at least the grandparents might want to see it:
Speaking of growing...how did this two get so big? It just seemed like they were making this video. But it's already been over two years!
This picture pretty much sums up how I feel most days, these days:
...until about 5:10 p.m. when Daddy walks through the door and each of you break out in screams of excitement and giggles as you race to the front door. You kids almost communicate the relief and gratitude I feel when I see that handsome man walk in.
At 5:11 p.m. Daddy jumps in, holding at least a baby on one hip for the next two hours until bedtime.
I love when we're able to spend our evenings after dinner like this. I usually feel too exhausted to join, but I love taking you all in. It's in these moments that my realization of how precious you all are is renewed. I am so thankful to get to be your Mommy all.day.long. But, I am even more thankful to be married to your Daddy.
That Daddy. After a long day at work he pours out his entire heart and soul, chasing, tickling, building block towers, wrestling, impersonating, playing, reading books, bathing naked hineys--all with careful intent...to love you four with a rich and elaborate kind of love.
No one else makes each of you laugh as hard as your Daddy--not even close. Each of you love that Daddy with all that you are...but not as much as I do--not even close.
I hear all kinds of comments when I have both babies in tow but nothing like the conversation that occurred "around" me earlier this week... A mother (maybe in her 70's) and daughter (in her 50's) pair were behind me in the checkout line at Hobby Lobby.
"Wow! Look at her, she's got twins! She is busy."
"I mean...look at how skinny she is."
"We'd look like that, too, if we had two little ones..."
I looked behind me...wondering who they're talking about but wanting to see this skinny-momma-of-twins for myself.
The daughter says to me, " You are so skinny and you BIRTHED TWINS!! It must be because you're so busy chasing them everywhere..."
I look back down at my double stroller terribly confused. The ladies clearly can't see my two babies inside....they only see the back of it. They may be being raised like twins, but it's quite obvious that I didn't birth one of these babies.
I'm puzzled about how to respond. I smile as I'm beginning to get a bit nervous about how I'm going to put an end to all of the undeserved compliments.
Still trying to figure out quite what to say, I open my mouth to give a response when the mother cuts me off. "Yes, she may be skinny but look at the dark circles under her eyes..."
(I think my mouth was still open at this point.) That's it. I'm completely speechless. Is there even a response for this? I turn to my cashier. Her mouth is now open, too, as she gives me an apologetic look. I grabbed my receipt and walked out as fast as I could.
I'm not sure why I am the one, in those moments, that starts getting sweaty and wants to disappear as soon as I can.
This definitely rivals all of those wonderful comments that people make when you're pregnant.
These days don’t leave much time for blogging. Most days, I realize by the end of the day, that I haven’t even looked in the mirror all day…and wonder if I even remembered to brush my teeth that morning? No doubt I haven’t brushed my hair. (Except for Sundays…I do manage to brush it on Sundays.)
My days are filled with holding babies. Feeding babies. (Why, yes, that is a picture of Oliver nursing.) Changing babies. Keeping four children alive. (This is often just the goal of the day.) Cooking or assembling meals during naptime. Cleaning up after meals and sweeping my floor. Repeat.
The bigs are watching more tv than I’d like. And they’re also getting away with more snacks than normal…they’ve found that I’m much more likely to agree with a request if it keeps the peace, these days. Smart kids.
(I've been pleased with how much she adores L and really believes she is her "sister".)
But, slowly, slowly…we’re all starting to adjust and I’m beginning to accept that we just entered a new stage…life can’t quite look like it did 8 weeks ago. I need to set new limits on our schedule and lower my expectations of a clean house. It’s bothersome to me that I am so concerned about that…way.too.concerned. I'm trying to let that go...
I could gobble these brothers up. Oliver loves having another baby in the house. Truly. He could not have embraced her more fully...so thankful for that.
“Enjoy them. Enjoy them…” my aunt’s advice echoes in my head. I’m trying. Some days are easier to do that than others. There are hard moments in the really good days; really great moments in the difficult days. And, just like I discovered in early marriage, the most difficult person to deal with in all of this is myself. Sin. Selfishness. Pride. So much ugliness has been uncovered in this new journey… the ugliness is not new, it’s always been there…I’m just becoming more acquainted with it now as it stares me in the face, amidst the chaos, loss of control and unpredictability. The good news of Jesus and his saving grace is becoming even better news as I am confronted with how much I need it.
When we were "home" (in my hometown) for Christmas, I asked my mom and a few of my aunts who all had 4(+) kids, what they wish they would have known as young mothers with several small children.
Two responses that resonated with me went something like this:
"I wish that I would have cared less about how neat my home was. No one really cared but me and I was always stressed out trying to keep it that way. It consumed way too much of my time. If I could do it differently, I would have played with and enjoyed them more rather than spending so much time on a clean house."
Yep. That response made my stomach hurt. I wish I could tattoo that wisdom to the inside of my forearm. Maybe after looking at it 95,340 times I'd actually heed that message. I mean, really. Who do I try to keep this home so clean for, anyway? Charlie can operate in a messier house than I can--he does not even see the mess that I do...and my kids don't notice either. I guess that just leaves me. I've acted like a major jerk to these people that I love so much all in the name of serving Jesus and my family by trying to keep my house clean. I'm pretty awesome.
"I wish I would have learned how to 'let go' a bit more with my children--and by that I mean, I wish I wouldn't have tried to control them so much. It didn't really matter if they weren't wearing the 'right shoes with that outfit' to the grocery store...you know, silly things like that. Too often I was more worried about how their appearance might negatively reflect on me than allowing them to be the silly kids I adored."
Again, such good wisdom here. I admit it: I'm a recovering control freak (which may have a bit to do with the first issue above.) But why am I not most concerned about their character or simply delighting in them rather than worrying about their appearance?
How ridiculous I've been. And, when I come to think of it, both "issues" seem to be rooted in keeping up some appearance: I'm a really great wife/mom if I can: (a) keep my house looking like a Pottery Barn magazine. (b) present perfectly well groomed, matching, put-together children that essentially look like GapKids models. I know how foolish that sounds when I put it like that...
So, yesterday my "shopping-girl buddy" (she makes sure I add "girl" every time b/c buddy alone apparently sounds too masculine for my dainty little companion) joined me on several errands yesterday. As we were about to walk out the door, she insisted that I let her wear her Snow White dress-up gown. I selfishly cringed inside, but before I could manipulate encourage her to simply wear the cute dress she had on, I heard my aunt's voice, "learn to let go" reminding me it wasn't such a big deal. And can I tell you what came of it?
I think that one act of giving up some control really knit our hearts together in a new way. We had a delightful afternoon. Both of us. Together. Really enjoying each other. She lit up each time I referred to her as "Your Majesty" and the princess was given much attention throughout each store we visited. Most people (elderly men, especially) commented on her dress and knew exactly "who" she was. On our first stop, Kroger, she received a plethora of stickers from the bagger for her royal cuteness. "Mommy, I don't want this on my dress. I want them on my body..." Can you believe something as silly as putting stickers anywhere else but the top of your chest/shoulder region used to bother me? I mean like really bother me. Me neither. How ridiculous. So, I relented and went with the theme of "letting go" and 15 minutes later at the next store, she told me they were too itchy and she was done with them.
By the end of our trip, I decided that costume wearing may just need to be mandatory on all future errand-running. Best behavior and costumes seemed to have some sort of a positive correlation.
I caught this sweet clip of my girl singing her newest favorite song, 10,000 Reasons(what she refers to as"Bless the Lord") as we pulled into the driveway from our trip. What a perfect theme song for all that He's teaching me through motherhood:
her thoughtful three year old proudly presents a carefully crafted beaded necklace just for his "Momma to wear"?
She wears it, of course.
Then...when packing up to head to Kroger the three year old says, "Momma, where is your necklace I made you? Will you PLEASE wear it to Kroger?"
The mother (vainly) hesitates and squirms a bit...then see this face:
"All the mans and ladies will like it. Especially William," (William is the produce guy.) the three year old assures his mother.
The mother gets many double takes from other ladies and "I feel sorry for you" gazes from college girls at the grocery store. But, as the proud three year old marches right up to William to show off his mother's new necklace, this mother is even prouder. "I made this necklace for my Momma. Doesn't she look beautiful?"
I love you sweet, Asherboy. Thank you for my beautiful necklace. It perfectly accessorized my pink cardigan, how did you know?
I ran across this timely reminder today. It's been a difficult couple of days. Asher has been feverish since Tuesday evening. Thursday we found out that he has bronchitis. Which has meant 60 hours of him wanting to be held and cuddled. And this entire time, of course, McKlayne will not be left out. Which has meant two kiddos constantly fighting over my lap. We've read just about every book we own. And watched more tv than I would normally allow in a month. Which has also meant that my house is much messier than I like.
Which, in turn, has meant, selfishly, rather than taking these two in entirely...rather than being thankful that I have two tots to cuddle and love constantly...I have been whining inside. Fretting about how long it is going to take to get the house back in order. Annoyed that I haven't gotten through the laundry that has been sitting in piles in my bathroom for three days. Feeling like a failure because we've eaten leftovers and breakfast for dinner the last two evenings because I haven't had a chance to think about a real meal. Irritated that I haven't gotten to work on any of the projects that I want to get done this week. Just plain weary and ungrateful.
Then the Lord gently reminded me what a gift I've been given-to turn my complaining into thanksgiving. I stumbled across this precious post on MckMama's blog. I am going to post it here, just in case one of you, who would have been too lazy to follow that link, will allow your perspective to be changed.
On somewhat of a sidenote, before we get to this precious post: I'm afraid that my generation does not seek the counsel of older* women enough. Us, silly, young, sometimes pity-party throwing Mommas (or maybe it's just me?) often think we have it all figured out...or foolishly ask other women our own age questions rather than women with real, life experience. So, older women, if there are any of you reading this, stay tuned because I have some questions for YOU at the end of this post.
From MckMama:
"How do you do it? How do you stay so calm with four young children?"
Part of it is just how God made me, I think. I am pretty calm with my children. And, honestly, often I stay calm even in the midst of chaos because, frankly, it's better than the alternative. A shrieking, freaking out mama is not going to make an already stressful situation any better. So, for the most part, I stay calm and try to be in the moment with my children.
But how do I do it?
There is one little bit of inspiration that literally descended upon me almost two years ago, while I was holding Nuggey in the bathroom, that has completely revolutionized my parenting. When I keep this truth in mind, I find it as easy as apple pie to stay calm in the midst of toddler chaos.
I remember that I'm gonna miss this.
It was dark, during the end of bathtime, and Prince Charming was gone. I was doing dinner, baths and bedtime myself those days, as my husband worked late. It had been, undoubtedly, a long day with the kids. Big Mac was three, Nuggey was one and a half and Small Fry was a baby. It is as clear as day still, this memory.
I was sitting on the toilet, drying MckNugget off after his bath. Small Fry, unable to roll, was sprawled on the floor of the bathroom on some towels, wearing nothing but a diaper and a grimace. Big Mac was still in the tub. He was squawking to get out and Small Fry was bellyaching for attention. But I slowly wrapped Nuggey up in his towel, determined to stay calm, and cuddled him in terrycloth. I slowly rocked him back and forth in my arms and sang Rock-a-bye Baby to my second born.
As I wrapped up the song, I prepared to sit Nuggey up and attend to the chaos that was the other children. After all, there were baths to finish, teeth to brush, diapers to put on, jammies to find and beds to tuck children into. But as he sensed me about to right him, Nuggey tossed his wet head back in my arms and looked up at me. "Uh-gain!"
So I sang Rock-a-bye Baby one more time, but I told him it would be the last. Yet when I finished, he begged again for more.
I didn't want to do more. I didn't want to sing to him one more time. I was tired. Tired of children, tired of singing, tired of the day. I just wanted it to be over. But then suddenly, as if fairy dust was sprinkled from the heavens right onto my tired head, the entire reality of my future set in.
I'm gonna miss this.
I looked down at little Nuggey, his damp eyelashes long and dark batting at me, his tiny bottom cradled in my hand, his soft, chubby legs thrown over my arm, his body entirely dependent on mine as I held him in my lap, and I could see the future. Nuggey, a grown boy, sporting a football jersey and facial hair, walked out of the bathroom. It was going to happen, and soon. And while I knew there would be joys with that time in my life, when our young children are teenagers and beyond, it struck me like a ton of bricks.
When that time comes, I'm gonna miss this.
When Nuggey comes home from college, barely speaks a word to me and hibernates in his bedroom all summer, I'm gonna miss this. As my mind fast forwarded to the future, I knew that at that moment, I would give anything for 20 year old Nuggey to be a toddler again, just for one more hour, so I could rock him and sing while I stroked his wet head.
And here, years earlier, I was being given my wish. I was able to rock Nuggey, a nearly helpless babe in arms, one more time.
Given a new perspective from which to see, I sang Rock-a-bye Baby as many times as Nuggey would let me that night. Eventually Small Fry found her hands and started admiring them, and Big Mac grabbed a new tub toy. And I relished that time with my son in my arms, knowing that soon enough he would be all grown, and my arms would ache to hold him like a baby again.
I'm gonna miss this.
My mind cannot help but wander to those parents who have lost children. What on earth would they not give to hold their children again, even for a moment. I bet they would not complain about having to sing Rock-a-bye Baby one more time. Rather, they would probably give their right arm to sing it ten million times until their voice was hoarse and their eyelids closed in slumber.
And women with empty wombs who long and pray and ache for children? What honor am I doing them if I take for granted the fact that I have children, young children who are begging me to cuddle them, sing to them. I will love those women who long for a baby by loving my babies and not taking them for granted.
So, I determined right there and then in the bathroom to try to be ever thankful for the moments I do have with my children. I will not wish away their young years, always hoping to get more laundry done or other children dried off. I will relish each kiss, hug and song. I will leave their childhood behind with no regrets, no "I love you" unsaid, no cheek unkissed, no request to "Cuddle wif' me!" turned down. Even as the macaroni flies and the Sharpie stains my table, even when there are midnight wailers and globs of Desitin under my fingernails, I know...
...I know I'm gonna miss this.
*When I say older, I mean anyone just a little further along than me...maybe without only toddlers...whether you have at least one school-aged child or are an empty-nester...here's what I want to know:
-What have you learned, since having children, that you wished you would have known before having children?
-What would you have done differently, in regards to parenting, knowing what you know now?
-If you could do it all over again, would you limit the tv or video games or even ban them completely?
-What were some of your favorite memories spent with your children? What special activities did you enjoy together?
Please feel free to answer just one or all of these questions...or even share something that you wished you would have known when you were my age (25 for two more weeks, thank you very much) that would be beneficial for a 20 somethings gal to know.
I thought that when I bought my first swim skirt for my tankini the summer after Asher was born that I had been initiated into motherhood.
Not so. Tonight I recognized that I had drifted in into a whole new realm of oblivion somewhere over the years...and not even known it.
I went jean shopping for the first time since fall/winter of '04-the winter before I got married! The winter after we got married I was too poor to buy any clothes and the last two winters I've been pregnant, so had no use to shop for anything non-maternity.
I've pretty much been wearing jeans that I've had since the middle of college-and, though, they're old favorites, I've slowly had to start throwing them away or designating them as "paint jeans" because I've worn them for 4+ years.
So...tonight I started out...rather excited. I was getting to go shop for myself...childless...like not having to stop to feed any babies or bribe any toddlers to keep quiet.
I began at one of my old favorites-Plato's Closet-a consignment shop that mostly only sells name brand and designer clothes from the previous season. I panicked as I hardly recognized any of the brands of jeans that I was shuffling through.
Seriously...I felt so dumb when I saw jeans that said "X2" on them and was confused. How come no one told me that some time in the last four years Express had changed their label?
But that was just the beginning...Silver, Hudson, 575, iT jeans...I needed a translator!
Actually, what I really needed was a college girl standing beside me to tell me, "Yes, go try these." or "No, not those." But I was WAY too prideful to go ask one of the sweet girls behind the counter to help...so that's where you come in...but more on that in a minute.
So, I picked up some Silver jeans and tried them on because my friend Jenn had recently just mentioned that her (super cool, rockstar's wife) sister-in-law had recommended them. I bought Silver jeans for $18...is that a good deal? Are those even still cool?
The rest of the night I spent checking out every college girl's rear that came near me at the mall...in search of "cool" jeans. I went to the Buckle and tried on a few that I liked. But I need help...are BKE jeans still "in"?
Blaire?
Emily?
Brettney?
Where are you?
I can't wait for 15 years for McKlayne to fill me in on what's appropriate to wear. I need your help.
If you're reading this blog and I don't even know you but you have jeans that you LOVE, please share...include the brand, style, and where I can purchase these, etc. please. Price doesn't matter...I just want to know your favorites! I will be getting money or gift cards for Christmas, so I plan to use them on jeans.
Ugh...this is so hard for me to do...I never thought I'd be asking for fashion advice...and especially not on the world wide web...but I'm desperate.
My favorite jeans...which, like I said, I haven't shopped for them in a good 4-5 years have been...Lucky, Citizens and jeans from Arden B. Are these still okay? Be honest.
I don't want to succumb to this and not even know it:
Sorry it's been so long since an update...and I'm sorry that I still haven't returned some of your phonecalls or emails. Chances are, I've started to and somehow been interrupted by one of my two darling children.
Life with two kids has been hectic, but wonderful! These last four crazy weeks have been filled with family, visitors, and less sleep then I've been used to for a little while! My mom was here the first few days we were home from the hospital, and Charlie was off the rest of the week. Then my sisters and their kids came the next week...overlapping one night...6 kids in our house was a little chaotic, but I'm so glad they were all here. It was really fun. Thanks, Mom, Kyle and Ave, for cooking, cleaning and serving us...we love you and don't know how we would have made it (or at least eaten) these first couple weeks without you.
A week ago was my first day alone with just the two of them...two on one. It's been difficult...nobody told me just how hard the transition from one to two would be! Two kiddos under two are definitely different than one energetic 18 month old! There have been times when I've been a bit overwhelmed...and there have been many tears, but we're adjusting.
This week I'm trying to get McKlayne on a consistent schedule. Poor baby...I haven't paid as much attention to her eat, wake, sleep cycle like I did for Asher and we're both starting to feel the effects! I had a stopwatch and timed Asher's every feeding, wake, and sleep period for the first six weeks of his life...with McKlayne sometimes she'll sleep for 4 1/2 hours during the day before I realize it's been that long...then I pay for it at night. So, this week we're concentrating on setting her little internal clock. I'm not super rigid with the whole schedule thing, but can definitely attest to the benefit of it! By this time when Asher was a baby, he was predictable...and I could schedule my day around his feedings...with her, sometimes she goes over four hours without eating and sometimes it's barely been two!
Here are some of my favorite pics over the last four weeks:
How pretty is she?
Our little Eskimo baby.
I love that spikey hair.
McKlayne & Mimi.
Asher with his Mimi.
My boys.
Pop came to visit, too.
Her crooked little nose did straighten out!
Uncle Jo with the nephews & nieces minus the newborns.
I'm often tempted to fall snare to the thief, Discontentment, (at least in my heart) about the complications of raising these precious little people...or that same thief with a different name, Comparison, as I'm sometimes overly concerned about dressing as stylish or keeping my house as neat as I once did before having them. So, this blog is simply a form of celebration-as I document, remember, and process--the gloriously messy, often chaotic, exceptionally silly and undeniably full household that God has given us. Though it may not always accurately represent all of our "real" life...these are the moments I want to store away, along with the details of the redemptive work of Jesus in our family that I want recorded for my children one day.
