This Guy

All four of my children's birth stories are wonderful and amazing, in my perfectly biased opinion. But this guy. This guy's story is a step into the miraculous. Born 6 weeks early at an even, whopping 4 pounds, his is a story of LIFE. When the doctor who literally just pulled your son from your womb whispers in your ear, "Do you believe in Divine Intervention?", you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone epic just entered your family. This boy had a true knot in his umbilical cord. We were clueless of this fact. So a message needed to be sent out. A big SOS. Message was received. I coasted right past preeclampsia and landed smack into this territory. It was confusing and scary. But exactly what needed to happen in order for the boy with the true knot in his cord to be born.
Seven years later, I am still in awe of the Lord's goodness. I am so thankful for this artistic, creative, super smart little boy. He sees the world in ways I do not. He asks questions that stop me in my tracks. This guy. Now this guy is special.
Happy Birthday, Josiah Daniel. I love you bigger than this universe. Just thought you should know...

Sirens

I've lived in the Midwest for almost 8 years now. Oddly enough, we have only had to run down to our basement once in all of those years. That's something to be grateful for!

The past couple of days, there have been big headlines of big storms with big tornadoes. Naturally, one might get a little "tweaked" when hearing of all this commotion. Yesterday I texted my friend Dan, who happens to work for NOAA... our national weather service. He's the one to go to if we have any questions about weather. Dan, I asked, do I need to worry about these reports? I'm home alone with the kids... should I make a plan to head down to our basement? It's pretty unlikely, he replied. But, if you do hear the sirens go off, then yeah. Go downstairs.
I was pretty exhausted yesterday afternoon. Note that earlier I mentioned being *home alone with 4 kids*. Hence, the exhaustion. I put the girls down for their nap. I set the boys up for their quiet time. Josiah spends his time in his bedroom. Elijah spends his downstairs in the guest room. I snuggled down in my bed, asking for that blissful break called sleep. And then. All of a sudden, I heard a siren-like noise. I shot out of that bed faster than I could say tornado. I pulled the dead-asleep Phoebe from her bed. I grabbed a couple of diapers and the box of wipes because she had planted a diaper bomb before falling asleep. Seriously? How do babies do that? Fill their diapers and then fall asleep?? I ran across the house with sleepy baby in my arms, blanket trailing on the ground, diapers falling out of my grasp. I called for Josiah to run downstairs to alert Elijah of the emergency situation. I ran into Lyla's room and woke her up from a dead-sleep. As I slowed down to gather the fallen diapers, I noticed something. There was no siren blaring. There was, however, a neighbor running a SHOP VAC.

Try telling a 3 year old and a 2 year old that Mama just needed to run a quick tornado drill and that they must go back to sleep.
They didn't believe me either.

Chapters

There was a time in my life when death was a viable option. Years when deep lies were believed that I would fail as a person, that I was not worth anyone's love. At 18, I gave in. I said okay, you're right. I'm not fit to be alive. I'm never going to be. Time to end it. I tried. I shook out as many pills as I could from their containers. I washed them down with a gallon size jug of water. And then I waited. My mind became foggy. I remember my dad coming in my room. I remember my mom asking me questions and "calmly" taking me to the hospital. I remember lying there in the hospital bed, hallucinating. Seeing animals dance across the ceiling, the large spotlight over my head. I remember the hushed talking, the decisions being made about my care. Drink charcoal, they said. If that doesn't bring it up, then we'll have to pump your stomach. So I drank the thick, black, sickeningly sweet charcoal. It didn't take long. The heaving. The pain. The excruciating, neverending night. But then the morning came and I was still alive. The charcoal had done the job. There were some physical side effects from the pills I had swallowed. So I had to stay. Social workers came and went. Asking question after question. I pulled whatever I had left together and danced the sanity dance for them. I'm fine, I said. It was a stupid decision, I said. I'll never do it again, I said. And they let me leave.

I wasn't okay. I left for college later that summer. And I wasn't okay. I had a fiancee who soon became my husband living, breathing by my side. And I wasn't okay. I began to envision other ways of ending it. Could I jump from this window, I asked. I would inspect my wrists. Could I end it in this gory way, I asked. These thoughts were a part of me for years.

Time passed. And passed. It was not one thing that healed me. A series of events. People calling me forward at church services. Proclaiming truth over me. My husband's fierce loyalty, not letting me go when many would have walked away. Quiet times with the Lord. Revelations of His sweet Love. Calling me His Precious Jewel. The birth of my firstborn son. A series of events that slowly turned my thoughts. If this One has called me Beautiful and Wanted, who am I to disagree with this?  You never disappoint me, He says. Who am I to turn by back on that?

This part of my past no longer creates grief in my heart. It no longer causes shame. It's my story. And I'm grateful. I look at the precious faces of my children and I am grateful. I'm glad I've never been the one with the pen. I have chapters yet to be written. Whole chapters.

Build

Creativity is a funny thing. To some, it comes a little more naturally. These ones are inspired easily. To others, it's just plain hard work. These ones have short bursts of inspiration and then walk on in silence. I am one of the latter. Add a deep insecurity of any ability to create and you have ME. Granted, I have legitimate reasons for hiding from creativity. 4 reasons to be exact. But I can't continue to hide. It's time to let those parts of me become me. I'm not sure what that looks like or feels like but I'm willing to give it a go.
Step 1 of this journey. Write more.

Dream

Dream big. Dream bigger.

I've heard this a lot recently. I have forgotten how. My dreams consist of that first cup of coffee in the morning. The hope that my children won't throw any fits in the first five minutes of waking up. The desire to fit a workout in sometime along my day. To find that magic recipe that literally takes 5 minutes to make and requires no clean-up afterwards.

I dream for my husband. I dream that his business would suddenly take off and every step would no longer be a days-long battle. I dream that his music would be heard.

I dream for my children. I dream that they would grow up with a deep love for Jesus and a passion for helping others. I dream that they would always know who they are and walk with joy, leaving bitterness way behind.

Something needs to grab hold of me. That thing that keeps my identity in the midst of my day to day. I am who I am. Having entered my 30's, a new peace has come with this thought. After years of struggle, years of depression and self-hatred, I am free. Mostly. It's time to dream.

Dream big. Dream bigger.

How did this happen?

Just a few years ago, this Daddy was surrounded by wrestling boys. Now, he gets the job of comforting his 2 little girls when they're not quite having the best of days....

I have no desire to mislead or misinform... there is still plenty of wrestling going on in this house. Just every once in a while, you see a flash of pink in the mix.

Day of Thanks

When Elijah had just turned a year old, Seth and I decided we wanted to go away over Thanksgiving weekend. So we did. We packed up our car and drove to the mountains of North Carolina. A friend of the family let us use their cabin for a minimal amount. It was wonderful. Quiet, peaceful, just us. The 3 of us.

Last Thursday ended up being a day very similar to that one 8 years ago. It was just us. Considerably larger "us", 6 to be more specific, but it was quiet and peaceful. I cooked most of our side dishes on Wednesday so I wouldn't have to do much on Thursday. Seth brought our TV upstairs so we could watch the Macy's Day parade. First time I've ever watched the parade from beginning to end. What fun!

Then I decided to do an impromptu photo shoot of the kids. Can I just say that trying to take photos of 4 children is truly like herding cats? I don't know how professional photographers keep their cool while taking pictures of little ones. They drive me c.r.a.z.y!!

What's even going on here? Does E not like his brother sitting that close? Look at how perfectly posed J is, just knowing he's totally getting on his brother's nerves!

An elbow to the gut. That's what I wanted to take a picture of...

Lyla's already losing it. And Phoebe looks a cross between stunned and bored.

The "what did I do?" look. I see this a lot.

Ok, this just makes me giggle.

This one is normal-ish. And that's just sad.

The photographer is not very comfortable on this side of the camera. But she loves her boys. Her boys who are growing up way. too. fast!

It's the beginning of the breakdown, folks.

Aaaand we're done. Poor Daddy just wants to eat some turkey!

Speaking of, here is a lovely photo of our Thanksgiving spread. Texas corn, green bean casserole, soul sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and a brined turkey. Yeah, I'm drooling a little bit too.

My heart overflows.... (Look at Lyla. Digging right in!)

I hear crickets. Do you hear crickets? My absence from blogging has not necessarily been an intentional one. You see, I had this computer that suffered from a stroke.... paralyzed and unable to function yet still alive. It has now been replaced. Thus, the venture into more blogs!

What emphasizes the passage of time more than a picture of a growing baby?

Meet Phoebe Analia. She has rosy, apple-y cheeks that are magnets for kisses. She coos, squeals, and giggles. She loves her family. She is obsessed with her fingers.

Meet Elijah Robert. My 9 year old son. 9!! He is no longer a homeschooler but has adjusted well as a student at a small, private school just 3 minutes from our home. He is obsessed with all things Star Wars and Legos. He is a kind, gentle, compassionate oldest brother.

Meet Josiah Daniel. He is now in full day kindergarten. He is under-the-radar smart. He can pick up a book, written for children much older than himself, and just start reading. We don't quite know where he learned this from. He is sensitive, strong-willed, affectionate. He develops habits quickly and is quite dedicated to them. His newest habit? 24/7 humming. And I like it.

Meet Lyla Marie. She is now 2 years old. 2!! She is our butterfly. She flits and floats from one person to the next, making sure all is right in our world. On non-teething days, she wakes up chatting and giggling and manages to stay in this bubble of happiness all day. Teething days? Oh that's a whole 'nother story!

So, now we are caught up. You'll probably be seeing me more around these parts. Now that I have a working horse computer....

Randomocity

1. Is it bad that I am totally envying my sons' tans this summer? Remember the days when your young skin turned brown the fun way by just hours of playing outside? Now it's an ordeal: making sure there is ample sunscreen, maybe a hat, definitely checking for shaved legs...

2. Tomorrow night my husband is repaying me for the days of nursing him back to health a few weeks ago by sending me off for a night all. by. myself. I get to stay here. And I will most likely get takeout here. And I will read. Yes, read.

I am beyond excited! I did this once before years ago. It was actually a stretch for me to do this kind of thing by myself but I found it quite liberating and refreshing. I love my family with all of my heart. I am planning and praying that this one night away will help fill my well of patience. It's been running a little dry lately.

3. See this girl? These days I turn my back for a minute, nay, a second and she makes her way to something she knows she's not allowed to get into. She can drive me up the wall and make me smile in one fell swoop. That's pure talent, I tell

you! Oh and I may or may not have taught my 19 month old to say "dumb dog". There is a suspicious "du" that she says before "dog" now.

4. Our baby's new digs is our walk-in closet. Phoebe is the gruntiest of all grunty babies. Translated: she is loud when she sleeps! She's not ready to move into her sister's room yet but the girl needed her own space. That space is now our closet. And we are okay with that.

5. Have you ever gone carpet shopping? If so, then you might agree with me in this sentiment: I'd rather do this any day of the week than try to find carpet for the whole house.

6. I have been stepping out of my culinary box lately. Last night I made chicken tikka masala and the family liked it. Tonight I am attempting seared mahi mahi. I've been in quite the cooking rut for the last few months, maybe years. So here's to kitchen freedom!

Jackpot!

So I finally uploaded (or is it downloaded... I can never figure out which is which) all of my photos that I have taken on my phone for the last year. Let me tell you, the feeling is akin to finding that $20 bill in a random pocket. With your phone, there are no "photo shoots". Instead, there are random, off-the-wall pictures that feel more like daily life. Allow me to share some of these moments from the last year...

There you have it, friends. Photos of in-home date dinners, newborn niece, etc.,etc. It's like a scrapbook in my phone!

PS What's going on with the picture layout? I'm afraid to even touch it because I don't feel like uploading all these photos again. Good thing I'm not OCD ;)

Phoebe is Growin'

She's already 5 weeks old. She smiles and coos. She sleeps in her bassinet at night. She's my precious, uptight, beautiful, so-incredibly-loud, passionate Phoebe bird. I have tried to find the perfect time to do a "photo shoot" but I have to say, it does not exist. Here is today's attempt to capture my girl...

Classic Baby Toes. Miniature, Tiny Toes.

Streeeeetch it out.

Well, hi there.

She's got cheeks!

"I'll give you this one last shot, Mama"

3 minutes into our session, things turned decidedly south. Allow me to share.

And that was the end of that.

Boy...

...it's Time You Learn the Value of a Dollar

He's a workin' man now. For a whopping $1.00 a week, he helps take out the trash and takes the dog for a daily walk. He couldn't be more thrilled! It was cute and sad all at once when he started naming the things he was going to buy with his money. I'd better not spend too much time on this post or I'm going to end up giving my son a pity raise (only Mamas are allowed to give those!).

Strike a Pose

I can't help it. My camera screams at me to pick it up whenever Lyla is near a window. Can you blame me?

My sweet baby is now 18 months old. I can't begin to tell you how much fun she is! I feel so blessed to have both boys and girls because I get to observe the similarities and differences between the two. This girl can carry a doll in one hand and wrestle with her brothers with the other hand. She has her very own language. A tonal babble. The only way I can decipher what she wants is by her tone. She has recently picked up the habit of licking things. Not quite sure what's going on there. Doll eyeballs? Yes. Little sister eyeballs? Um, No. Juice cup? Yes. Carpet? Not a good idea.

On to Kindergarten!

This last week, my "little Nemo" Josiah graduated preschool. It has been so fun watching him grow and learn. Of course, most of his learning has been at home from his older brother but he did shine in class.

Here is Ms. Kim, J's teacher.

I love that Seth caught this on camera. Eli is always so proud of his siblings. And, of course, Josiah just loves to hug!

He really had so much fun up on stage!

So proud of my JJ!

Phoebe's 1st Days

Seth finally has his little twin. Can you believe how much they look alike?

Sweet oldest brother. He takes this role very seriously.

Big brother J makes sure he gives Phoebe her daily kisses.

Poor Lyla had no idea what to think when we first brought Phoebe home. You could see the utter confusion on her face. After just a few short weeks, she LOVES her "DeDe".

Papa meets Granddaughter #4

Deep down she really was excited to go home. Deep down.

Nana Time

***Not sure how wise it was to proclaim to the world the resurrection of this blog right after baby #4 was born. Seriously? It took me 5 days to finish Phoebe's birth story! So I think for the next bit, I'll blog BLITZ-STYLE. Try to get in as much as I can when I can***

Good day. I said, Good Day.