I Can See The Writing On The Wall...

I've been thinking a lot about how the things I say and do to and with my children today will impact their lives in the future. It's so much to consider and every single day presents many challenges and things that are potentially guilt-inducing.

I know that's probably not the best thing to carry around because I know that sense of failure and guilt is something that I can easily pass on to my children. So, in an effort to turn my worries into prayers and positive thoughts, I've gone back to a book I read a lot while I was nursing my babies...it's called "Praying the Scriptures For Your Children" by Jodie Berndt. I really adore this book and it's been a literal lifesaver to me recently. Two days ago, for whatever reason, Mitchell woke up in a grumpy mood and was unable to shake that mindset for the rest of the day...just one of those tough days.

It made for a very long day in this house...one full of arguing, sassy talk, and tears. Finally, at about 3:00, I turned on a video for the kids, plopped myself onto the couch and got out my book. It was just what I needed, and the rest of the day was much easier for me, even though nothing really changed as far as how Mitchell was acting. For instance, here are the two that I probably spent 20 minutes praying, over and over.

"Let us learn to see discipline as a gift. Let Mitchell recognize that when we discipline him, it means that we love him and that he belongs to our family -- just as you discipline those you love, those you accept as your sons and daughters. Let Mitchell respect us when we discipline him, realizing that we are doing our best and that we ourselves are submitting to your discipline, which is for our good." (Hebrews 12: 5-10)

and

"Teach Mitchell to obey us in everything, for this pleases you, Lord. Do not let us do or say anything that would embitter or discourage him." (Colossians 3: 20-21)

It just met me where I was, and took my mind to where it needed to be. I really can't recommend this book any more highly, especially if you find that praying for your children is an overwhelming task. Sometimes, the scope of what I want for them is so big that I don't know where to start...this book has really given me the gift of having specific prayers to start with and then continue on my own from there. I have had much more clarity and focus in my prayers for my children than I did before.

The other thing this book does is prompt me more and more to pray for things that are in my children's distant future. Things like their purposes in life, their future marriages, etc. As much as I enjoy saying those types of prayers, it also opens my eyes up to the fact that my time with them is just going so quickly. As much as I look forward to the many wonderful memories we'll make in the future, it's difficult for me not to grieve the loss of many of the things that we're leaving behind. It's not that I don't want my children to grow up, not at all.

It's that the "lasts" in my life as a Mommy are somewhat painful. They're memories now, and I fear that they will fade with time.

As I was driving into our neighborhood for my lunch hour (I'm working today), a song that I'd never heard before came on the radio. Before it was over, I was in tears because it really touched my heart. It just seemed to capture so much of what I've been feeling lately, so I thought I'd share the lyrics.

Artist: Mark Harris
Title: Writing On The Wall
Album: Windows & Walls


I came home from work
She was waiting at the door
Had that bad day look in her eye
Then I heard the sound of little feet across the hardwood floor
And I knelt down with my arms open wide
When I asked her what had happened
She pointed to our son
And said why don't you show your daddy
What you've done

Chorus:
And I could see the writing on the wall
The evidence of little hands
Picasso with a purple crayon
I tried to act upset but I was smiling through it all
I could see the writing on the wall



It was the first day of school
Standing by the laundry door
Wondering how third grade came so fast
Took a ruler and a sharpie pen and drew the line once more
So amazed at how time had passed
With a backpack full of promise
And wonder in his eyes
I turned my head just so he wouldn't
See me cry

Chorus 2:
Cause I could see the writing on the wall
It seems no matter how I tried
To stop the roller coaster ride
The pages just kept turning
Even though deep in my heart I knew we had it all
I could see the writing on the wall

Somewhere in the mystery
Of all that lies ahead
I hope and pray that you will see
I tried to do my best

Wishes and dreams...

"I wish" might come from a friend wanting to something to change a situation, but feeling nothing short of helpless as she listens to someone she loves struggle to make it through each new day.

"I wish" likely echoes the thoughts of a man who is silently coveting the brand new corvette that zooms around him in his minivan as he drives up a mountain road. (Totally made that one up, by the way. It didn't happen this weekend or anything.)

"I wish" can be heard from mothers everywhere as they long for someone else to clean the house and do the six loads of dirty laundry that are piled on the floor.

"I wish" is likely the way you'll hear about a child wanting to have a pony or the ability to fly.


The phrase has taken on new meaning with me and my "Mommy's heart" today. Until this weekend, it seemed to be so much bigger than my small children. Not that they don't have wishes and dreams, I know that they definitely do. It's just that, to me, being able to clearly state them with "I wish" seems like such a big step.

Friday, we were driving down the road we always take to get into our neighborhood. As we passed the little farmhouse and stables, instead of showing his sister the horses and helping her "neigh" instead of "moo," Mitchell said this:

"Hey, Mommy...I wish I could ride a horse."

There was even a dreamy quality to his voice as he said it. I had to look in the rearview mirror to be sure it was really him, strapped into his carseat. My little boy wishes to ride a horse. Before that moment, he most likely would have said something like, "Hey, Mommy? Can I ride a horse some day?" On Friday, he dreamed a dream and out came a wish.

He grows a little more every day, and I'm not talking about his height.

As we were driving past a lake on our way home from the mountains yesterday, it happened again. We were talking about how beautiful the scene was: the lake set up against the trees, the clouds casting shadows on the water, and the sailboats skimming across the water. Georgia pointed out the window and excitedly yelled, "Wawa!! Wawa!! Boat!" Her brother didn't say a word. He just looked.



I had turned around in my seat while I was talking to them and it was like looking through a little window in Mitchell's mind. He silently stared out the window and was obviously lost in the beauty of what he saw. When we passed the edge of the lake, he continued looking out of his window for a few moments longer, but then turned his head toward me. We locked eyes and a big smile crept across his face, which in turn, made me smile.

Then he said, "I wish I could sail on a boat. Maybe when I'm five, I can go sailing."

I just smiled and said "Maybe," knowing that watching moments like that through your child's eyes is nothing short of a gift. It was hard to resist the urge to bolt to the backseat and just wrap him in my arms and rock him. Instead, I reached over and held my husband's hand. He looked at me and said "Did he just say he wants to go sailing?"

Yes, it's his wish.

Monday - Marriage and More...

So, I was inspired to jot down the story of how Chris and I met, and then I remembered -- I already did! A whole year ago! It was 15 years to the day that we met and I blogged about it.
He was actually supposed to mow tonight but it's raining -- what are the odds? *teeheehee*

So, today was one of those days where I feel like my son grew up in front of my eyes. Actually, more like when I was in the bathroom. Or doing laundry. Just...today. He seems noticeably older and bigger than he did yesterday.

If you're a mom, I'm convinced that you know what I'm talking about and if you're not, it's quite possible that I sound like I need to have a chat with the doctor or something.

I think it's some new independence that has me thrown for a loop. Things I used to have to ask him several times to do have just sort of happened today. When I woke up this morning, I noticed he was in different pajamas than he went to bed in. I asked what happened and he said he got hot, so he changed. He got himself dressed (I didn't ask him to, he just did it on his own) while I was changing Georgia's diaper this morning. I came back from changing out the loads of laundry and saw that he'd put his bowl in the sink. I said "Hey, thanks for putting your bowl in the sink!" He responded with "You're welcome. My spoon's in there, too."

Okay, am I nuts for letting that get me all choked up?

It's been like that all day long! Every time I turn around today, it seems that I'm met with another "when did that happen" moment.

6 lbs, 4 oz. He started out at 6 lbs, 4 oz. and he had elephant skin. It just sort of hung there on him. His poor little jaundiced body was stuck in the "bug zapper" (a.k.a. the billirubin light-filled suitcase) for 3 days and I remember thinking that for as huge as I felt at the end of my pregnancy, he just couldn't have seemed tinier. His cries were tiny. His diapers were tiny. His little tushy was tiny and fit in the palm of my hand.

One thing I'll never forget about Mitchell is that no matter how far out on my shoulder I held him, he would find a way to get himself positioned under my chin and near my heart. I'd just laugh every time I realized where he'd gotten because it seemed like he moved himself there without me even knowing it.

Well, his sweet cheeks are a little bigger now, but the Doodlebug just did it again.

Home

I did something this weekend that is a very rare occurence around here...I spent the night away from home without my husband and children for my MOPS steering retreat. Going into it on Friday afternoon, I was a bit concerned only because my husband was not having a good day. He was very stressed out by work and a variety of other things...he hit an emotional wall in a way, I think. Anyway -- not exactly the time that I'd love to go jetting off for a day and a half. I would have loved to have been able to sit with him that night, give him a backrub and just be there for him. Instead, there was a semi-frantic exchange of cars and a drive through rush hour traffic for him as he was off to meet my parents for dinner and begin his solo time with the kids. I did get him a card and a little treat on my way to the hotel, but a part of my heart felt sad as he drove away because I felt like I was just adding to his stress. I said some special prayers for him as I walked back into the conference room from the parking lot because I know that when I'm at home with the kids and I'm feeling stressed, it often results in a more anxious, less patient, short-tempered Mommy and I didn't want to be setting him up for the same sort of experience.

Talk about completely underestimating my amazing husband.

I called and talked to him as he was getting the kids into for bed and he already sounded so much better. He told me that everyone had a great time at dinner and that he and Georgia even developed a new trick together, which involved him jiggling her chin around and her making silly noises. Hearing the joy in his voice was a delight for me and I knew then that everything would be fine. Breathing a sigh of relief as I heard him tell me that he loved me and to enjoy my time with "the hens," I hung up the phone with no guilt whatsoever. When I talked to him in the morning, I learned that both kids slept all night (rare these days) and that everyone woke up in a good mood. I even talked to both of them on the phone without it leading to tears about me coming home! Again, I hung up the phone and enjoyed the rest of my day without any guilt about being there.

When I got home last night, I was met by silence, which was a little scary. I will say that there was no blood, broken furniture, and no evidence of fire or flood, so I decided not to panic yet.

As I entered the living room I found my son asleep (asleep?!?!) on the couch, but no sign of my husband or Georgia. As I walked into the empty kitchen past a sleeping Mitchell, I could hear the two of them chattering over the monitor, meaning that she likely just woke up from a nap. (At 5 o'clock?!?!) I was greeted by sunscreen on the counter (a trip to the park), a new trash can (yesssss!) and a picture of the three of them posing in front of a NASCAR car (what?!). Apparently the new Best Buy opened this weekend and my NASCAR nuts got to see the sponsored car parked in front of the store. (He claims he didn't know it would be there, but I'm skeptical.) As I studied the picture of my three happy loved ones, I noticed that both kids were wearing the same clothes that I had left them in the day before. That made me laugh, and I knew that my husband would be claiming to save me from more dirty laundry. I heard Chris say "Let's go downstairs" so I went to greet them.

When my husband brought Miss G down the stairs, I could hear him say "Guess who's here" to her. As they rounded the corner on the landing and we saw each other, the sheer delight in her giggle and the smile that stretched across her entire face both wrapped themselves around my heart. She held her arms out to me and joyfully yelled "MOOOOOMMMMMMAAAAAA!!!!!" I took her from Chris and she instantly wrapped her little arms around my neck, laid her head down on my shoulder and squeezed me with the tightest hug an 18 month old is capable of.

That feeling. That one. That's one of my happy places.

After my world class hug, she immediately sat up, looked at me and in a very serious tone said "I wanna muk." My husband and I just laughed because it was Georgia's way of saying, "Okay, welcome home, yadda yadda...give up the milk, sister."

After a wonderfully comforting bear hug from my husband, he returned to making dinner (pork chops, baked potatoes and a big garden salad - huh?!) and I filled a muk order. As I was putting the milk back into the fridge, I heard Chris say "Hey, buddy -- look who's home!" I closed the door and looked into the living room to see a tousled head of hair, two big brown eyes, and a shy but undeniably joyful smile peeking up at me over the island.

Our reunion was more subdued, but his sleepy grin and gentle hugs melted my heart as I rubbed his back while he woke up and showed me his new Tony Stewart racecar that Daddy had bought for him at "Wullmert." That lasted about a minute and a half, at which point Georgia sniffed out our physical contact and came to voice her displeasure at me hugging anyone but her. My snuggle time with Mitchell turned into snuggle time with Mitchell and Georgia, leading to my husband and I exchanging glances across the room. He could see that I knew I was back where I belonged and I could see that he had been longing for that to happen all day.

Home. I love being home.

"I want"

I was talking to a friend on the phone yesterday (Hi, Renee!) and Georgia came up and said "I want milk." (It actually comes out as "I wanna muk.") I then said that half of what she says these days is preceded by the words "I want." Renee then told me she thought that was pretty good developmentally and I laughed that if she's going to master the art of saying something, "I want" is not a surprising catch phrase for our little ball of fire.

I thought about this as the day went on and had a little revelation of sorts. One of those things you know but don't really think much about. Guess who else lives her life with the words "I want" as a mantra most days?

Me.

Let me demonstrate:

*I want to sell my house quickly.
*I want to be able to find "the perfect" house for us.
*I want my 3 hours of work each week to be easy money.
*I want my husband to be happy at work and not have to work overtime.
*I want my kids to be healthy and well-adjusted.
*I want time for my own study of the Bible each day.
*I want time to myself each day to just relax.
*I want my kids to be kids, just not to make messes like kids.
*I want a housekeeper, you know, other than me.
*I want to be skinny without the jogging. (What's up, Earen? *wink*)
*I want some cute clothes that are beyond inexpensive.

To recap:

I want it easy. I want it now. I want it painless. I want it clean. I want it cheap. I want it convenient. I want it happy.

I want it all.

Times like this, I love the Bible that I use -- it has real life questions in it. Today, I looked up and did the lesson with this one:

"Why is enough never enough? No matter what I have, I dream about what I don't have."

*ahem* Yeah, that seems to fit this morning. I'm going to try and keep this verse on my heart today because, well, WOW. Just wow. It was just what I needed to hear today.

Ecclesiastes 6: 7-9

Enjoy what you have rather than desiring what you don't have. Just dreaming about nice things is meaningless; it is like chasing the wind.

I think that I'll turn my "I wants" into "I'm gratefuls."

*I'm grateful that we don't HAVE to sell our house quickly and that we have such a lovely home to live in.
*I'm grateful for the opportunity to buy a bigger home with more luxuries for our family, no matter where that may be.
*I'm grateful for the ability to work at a job I truly enjoy and to have the chance to be a part of changing the lives of children and families.
*I'm grateful that my husband has a strong work ethic and a wonderful job which provides me with the chance to stay home with my children, since I know that's where I belong for now. I'm grateful for the lessons he is learning during his overtime work as I know they will serve him well as he continues to advance in his career.
*I'm grateful that for the most part, my children ARE healthy and well-adjusted. The gift of a healthy child should never be taken for granted...I need to remember that.
*I'm grateful for the chance to worship freely in this country and for the foundation that my parents laid for me so long ago. I'm thankful for Christian music stations as many days, that's the only real time I'm able to have with God's word - -in the car, doing dishes, etc.
*I'm grateful for having a family that I love surround me each day. I know that I could very well be someone who only had time to myself and I would be so lonely.
*I'm grateful for the messes that my children make each day because it means that we spent time having fun and learning together. It also means I had the chance to be with them today.
*I'm grateful for the neverending piles of laundry, dishes and dirty floors because it means we have enough clothes to wear, food toe at, and a house to live in.
*I'm grateful for the yummy food that has given me this ample figure. *hee hee* Actually, I'm grateful for the chance to grow closer to the Lord as I soon begin a Christian-based weight loss group.
*I'm grateful for the fact that I am able to clean out all of our closets at least twice a year and give those clothes to charity.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...that feels so much better. I think I'll print this out and keep it where I can read it every single day as a reminder to myself of how to get rid of the "I wants."

P.S. - Wouldn't you know it, just as I finished typing this, my sweet baby girl woke up and said "I wanna MAMA."

I'm so grateful to be loved and needed by my precious children.

I love my life.

I really do. I love it.

Love my house.
Love my husband.
Love my kids.
Love my family.
Love my friends.
Love my freedom.

I am blessed. I am truly, truly blessed. That's all I have time for but really, that's all I needed to say right now. I've had a tough week or two emotionally but when it all comes down to it, I have nothing to be really down about. My "problems" are other people's dreams.

I'm blessed and I know it. I'm so thankful to the Lord for all that He has given me.

YOU are the baby!

Friday night Chris had to work a bit late, which was fine since the kids and I were supposed to go to a birthday party for my best friend's nephew. Well, the birthday boy got sick, so instead we went to dinner with my mom and dad. You know what? Georgia apparently sees herself very differently than I do. There was a little boy who looked like he was about her same age sitting at a table behind us. Every once in a while, Miss G would turn around to look at him. After a few minutes, she pointed over at him and actually had the nerve to tell me "Beebee."

Ummmmm...excuse me??!! Are YOU calling HIM a baby??!! YOU are the BABY!

Seriously. That broke my heart in a teeny way that probably makes sense only to other Mommies who are in denial about their youngest, and probably last, child growing up too quickly. My baby -- my BABY -- just seemed so big when she did that.

My sweet baby girl.

And then I just sat and watched her the rest of the meal. Really watched her. I felt like a first time mom again -- I kept telling my mom and dad to look at her, to watch what she was doing. It was like having my eyes newly opened to just how sweet and silly and completely adorable she is.

We had pretty slow service so there was lots of time to watch her. She spent lots of time putting a straw wrapper that she'd ripped into two pieces on top of her head. She'd then sign "hat" and say "hack" and laugh at herself proudly. Shortly after, she'd shake her head until both pieces fell off, then she'd repeat the process.

My sweet baby girl.

Mitchell had requested a "smoovie" so we had them make an adult-sized portion and split into two cups for the kids. Georgia was very excited to taste hers and her reaction was hysterical. She pursed her little mouth into a mini-version of her Daddy's famed "chimp lips" to suck on her straw. She took two big swallows and her eyes immediately grew even bigger and brighter than they normally are, which is saying a lot. She then threw both arms into the air and shouted (literally) "Yayyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

My sweet baby girl.

She had a grilled cheese and applesauce for dinner. I was again snapped out of my denial bubble when I paused to consider that I no longer need to tear her sandwich into little dime or nickel sized bites. I just test her food to make sure it's not too hot and let her at it. No more cramming fistfuls of tiny bites into her mouth...now she's all about taking the biggest bite she can out of her big girl sandwich. When it came time for applesauce, I would offer her bites and she would immediately giggle and hang her head as far backwards as it would go, being very silly. It wasn't until I said "Here, Georgia's turn," that she took any interest in the applesauce. She immediately sat straight up and held out her little hand to take the spoon. Together, we scooped up the applesauce and steered it into her mouth. After the first bite, she showed off a big grin, very proud to have been part of feeding herself. I don't think she took another bite of grilled cheese until we had scooped every last bite of that applesauce out.

My sweet baby girl.

When we had finished dinner and it was time to leave, I stood up and got my purse and the diaper bag and went around to the other side of the highchair to undo the straps. Miss G thought I was leaving without her and immediately started fussing and reaching for me saying "Mama!! Mama!!" I got her out of her highchair and when I picked her up, she immediately kissed my cheek, as she's in a big giving kisses phase, then wrapped her arms around my neck and laid her head down on my shoulder for a snuggle.

Ahhhhh, there she is....my sweet baby girl.

My boy is the sweetest.

No, seriously. He is.

Yesterday I had a RAGING headache. I don't get headaches. I had also been up pretty late the night before not feeling well. You know when you feel like you could be sick but you're not sure? That was me. Since I work with kids, the last thing I wanted to do was get them sick, so I cancelled my day. My in-laws graciously offered to keep the kids for a little while so that I could rest, but I chose to run an errand I'd been putting off instead while I could do it alone. One of those things that just felt better to cross off my list, I suppose.

Anyway, I came back to pick them up and then knew I *had* to lay down when G took her nap or I'd be in big trouble later. So, for the first time in probably a year, I attempted to take a nap when my daughter slept.

You know, you always hear that as great advice when you are a new mom. "Sleep when the baby sleeps," people will tell you. Maybe (okay, most likely) I'm an odd duck but I just could never do that. I'd either get caught up in housework, or reading, or something -- I just couldn't relax enough to sleep, I guess. Plus, when you have another child, it's that much harder.

In any case, I decided that I must nap yesterday so after I put Georgia down, I told Mitchell that I needed to lay down, too. He knew I didn't feel well and I guess he was more concerned about me than I realized. Instead of taking that chance to run around like a crazy man, he chose to instead, follow me into my room and climb in bed with me. I almost immediately fell asleep because I was just so in need of rest, but I do remember him saying "I'll be right back, Mommy."

Do you know what that absolutely precious boy did for his Mommy?

He got two stuffed animals and his two favorite bedtime books and brought them to me. He gave me the animals one at a time and sort of tucked me around them, and them around me and instructed me to snuggle with them so that I could feel better. He then announced that he would be reading to me. I wish I could say that I clearly remember him reading those books because I'm sure it was the sweetest thing ever, but I was snoozing away.

I just remember randomly waking up throughout that two hours and he would be sitting by me or in my room playing trains on the floor and when I'd look at him, he'd come over and give me a kiss and ask if I was okay. Then he'd tuck the animals back in around me.

*sigh*

My prayer is that he never loses that desire to care for the people he loves and that he does it without hesitation and with all of his heart. I don't know at what age children usually start to lose that quality -- the innocent ways in which they go about their lives, but I hope that at least some of it stays forever.

Yesterday was one of those days where I wasn't just proud to be a Mommy. I was exceptionally grateful to be his Mommy.

My little Doodlebug -- there's only one.

Vacation Bible School...

It's this week. I was initially worried about how things would go since we have taken the summer off of school. My little buddy used to have a serious separation issue so I wondered if I would have to deal with that again, but he did great.

The theme is some sort of "ranch" thing, and he has decided that it is "Cowboy School." Okay. Cowboy School it is!

We got there right when it started on the first night so most of the kids were already in the sanctuary. I hadn't previously signed him up so I had to take Miss G to the table and get him all checked in. I took him into the sanctuary to help him find a seat and expected that to be problematic since none of his friends from school were in there. He just found a spot by himself -- in a pew with other kids but not necessarily near them -- and hung out. They started to sing some songs and I watched as he just sat back and chilled out, taking it all in.

After I got him signed up, I went to tell him goodbye. All he said was "Mommy, I don't know this song." I said "Well, I bet if you listen you'll know it tomorrow when they sing it again." He said "Okay. Are you leaving now?" I said "Yes, we'll be back to pick you up later." He said "Okay. See you soon!"

Astounding. And pride swelling. And semi-heartbreaking. All at the same time.

Why is that I simultaneously want him to be so grown up and such a little guy at once? Bittersweet would be a good word here.

Anyway - it is so fun when he surprises me. I go to pick him up and not only is he now with the crowd, he has a huge orange bandana with his name on it around his neck and he is dancing around and singing at the top of his lungs. Usually in situations like these, he'll sit quietly and clap his hands but be too shy to sing, even though he's wild man at home when music is on. I loved seeing him confident enough to get in there and express himself in front of others like he does at home.

Then I got even another surprise. The pastor asked the group if anyone remembered any of the special stories they heard at VBS that night. Big pause. No hands. Until...my "shy" little guy jumps (literally) to his feet, waves both hands around and shouts "Oh, I know! I know!" I couldn't believe it, but what he said next was a really cool thing for me to hear him say.

"We heard stories JUST like the ones that Mommy reads me out of my special Bible story book before bed every night!"

I just about fell over. See - yeah, who wouldn't like their kid to make them sound like Supermom? Nice, right? Well, for me -- THAT day was anything but a Supermom day. More like Grumpymom. In general, it was a day where I didn't feel like a good mom at all. Yet, at the end of the day, there's my little guy jumping to his feet and waving his hands around to remind me (forget everyone else in the room) that I it all balances out and that I do manage to make him feel special in important ways. I'm sure I don't have to say that I got all teary - I'm sure that's a given.

The funny part about VBS though is that when it was over and he came to find Miss G and I towards the back, he greeted us with a "Howdy" and a "Yippee-ka-yay Partners!" It was so funny. When he found out that my hubby was working late, he started to cry and said "But I wanted to tell him Yippee-ka-yay, Partners!" So, after I strapped him into his carseat, I dialed the office and gave him my cell phone. When he greeted my hubby with it, there was a long pause, so it went something like this...

"Yippe-ka-yay..................................................Partners!"

Sounded so funny on the phone. When I got the phone back after they were done chatting, my husband revealed that he had a mini-heart-attack when Mitchell said that. When I asked why he said "All I could think of was that line from Die Hard." I didn't know what he was talking about at first until he reminded me that Bruce Willis says "Yippee-ka-yay, mother...!"

I reminded him that it wouldn't come out that spicy. I believe he has learned "freakin" from good ol' Mom as he was struggling with his carseat buckle the other day and used it appropriately and in context. It is among my non-cussing, yet still apparently cussing words. (I see that as I don't at all like it coming out of my 4 year old's mouth.)

Uh, YEAH. Don't quite have that "perfect mom" thing down yet, do I?

What a guy.

My hubby. He constantly surprises me. (Oh, and it's 1:36 a.m., by the way - still a terrific sleeper over here!)

Tonight he ended up being a little bit later than he thought he would be in getting home from work. He called to let me know (let's hear it for nagging him enough to win that battle!!) and said it was because he was doing something for the kids. I asked what he was doing and he said he was writing them a letter about the 4th of July.

He calls it his "Christmas".

I guarantee this letter will make me cry when I read it. I married one of the biggest patriots that has ever lived. He is bold and proud of his patriotic streak to the point of being almost nerdy. We attend Memorial Day services at the local veterans' cemetary even though we haven't personally had any tragedy in that department...we're there simply to honor those who have fallen for our country. As I mentioned, he is ALL ABOUT the 4th of July. He's like a child on Christmas morning...he just absolutely adores the whole day. Today he left for work in his red, white and blue tie with a big American flag lapel pin. Tomorrow we will all be decked out in head to toe red, white and blue for Daddy.

I'm really looking forward to reading his letter. That part of him is one of the things I love best about my husband...he will NOT stand by and let his children take for granted the things that he feels are most important. They can obviously choose to feel differently when they grow up, but it won't be for lack of trying on his part. The thing is, he isn't forceful or pushy...but he makes his points and he makes them clear and obvious for the kids...what they should appreciate and why. It really is a neat thing, even if it makes me chuckle from time to time. If you've seen the movie, "The American President" it totally reminds me of when Michael Douglas is lecturing his daughter about The Constitution and he said "This is exciting stuff!" That would SO be my hubby.

I still have a memory in my head from when Mitchell was tiny...and I'm talking like 2 weeks old or something. I was making breakfast and I looked over at my boys. There was my husband, sitting at the table holding and reading to Mitchell...this tiny little thing just looking up at him with these big, dark eyes and his mouth drawn into a little "o". Know what he was reading to him? A book that held a collection of his favorite American documents. Peace treaties, The Constitution, speeches made by various political figures, etc. I just had to laugh because that was about the very last thing you'd ever catch me doing, yet there he was, completely joyful in the moment. He is itching for the day he gets to help with Social Studies homework!

Anyway -- I haven't even read it yet and I know that this letter is a family heirloom in the making. It's my husband in a nutshell and I love it.

Stumbling away...

My husband and I went to Las Vegas last week...on Valentine's Day, actually. Neither of us are big on that holiday, but our 5th anniversary was on the 9th and we waited until this weekend so that we could enjoy a LOOOONNNGGGGG weekend together, with President's Day being today.

As I was preparing to leave, Murphy's Law kicked into overdrive around here. (The whole if it can go wrong, it will go wrong deal.) My parents said that they would be over here by 5pm at the very latest so that I would have an hour and a half to do last minute things without the added bonus of trying to wrangle and feed my two little munchkins. Well, as luck would have it, there was just enough snow that day to make a mess of the roads, so my dad was late getting home from work, they were late leaving the house, and traffic pretty much sucked the big one. In addition, Chris was late leaving work and got to do his own traffic fighting stunt, completely crushing all hope in me that I would be able to actually focus on packing.

It might just be our little slice of crazy over here, but from 4-6pm is pretty much known as "the witching hours" in our house. Those two hours between Georgia's afternoon nap and dinner usually present the biggest challenge for me during any given day. The kids are restless, tired, somewhat bored, and so am I most days. There's also the whole dinner thing in there, too. I hadn't even thought about dinner Wednesday night because part of my mom's generous plan involved her bringing and feeding the kids for me. Clearly, that got blown out of the water.

I was trying to pack myself for 4 nights in Vegas -- attempting to account for unknown weather conditions, fancy dinners, casual dinners, and lounging by the pool attire. At the same time, I was trying to pack up two kids for 4 nights at their grandparents' house -- and trying to cover my bases with regards to having enough clothes, church clothes, pajamas, underwear, food, medicine, loveys, etc.

That's stressful enough in itself, right? Well, add to that the fact that my *ahem* well intentioned mother-in-law did my laundry on Tuesday. Most people would probably be exceptionally grateful and appreciative of another person doing laundry without being asked to, but for me -- it actually added to my stress level. The thing is, I am ultra anal about my laundry. Chris has tried three times to do laundry in our five years of marriage and I think he pretty much just gave up after that. (I wasn't very nice about it.) I don't mind doing laundry -- I really don't. I have a very specific organizational system for the whole process and usually plan it out. My MIL came over to watch the kids here on Tuesday afternoon while I saw a couple of clients. I hid the ironing from her because I knew if I didn't, that's all she'd do while she was there. I *thought* about asking her to PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE don't touch the laundry, but I bit my tongue as I left because I didn't want to be tacky. Well, that will teach me. I had three loads of laundry -- one in the dryer, one in the washer finishing up and one in the basket. When I walked in the door, the first thing she said to me was "I hope you don't mind, but I did the laundry." And there it was -- all three loads, piled up on the recliner and loveseat. As I tried not to roll my eyes in agitation and managed an "Oh, okay", she added that my bra was hanging on the rack in the laundry room.

Perfect. Doesn't everyone want to be greeted by their MIL telling them that she has hung their underwear up for them? Seriously.

Anyway -- I'll just say that things were "folded" much differently than when I do it and our clothes were all together -- I sort them by family member as I fold, so I was just out of synch on that end, and those three loads were *of course* the stuff I really needed to pack for all of us.

Okay, so back to the chaotic pre-departure evening. As luck would have it, both kids were pretty wound up -- Mitchell was really excited to go to stay with my parents, and I think Georgia was just feeding off of both of us. I worked up a sweat running around and trying to do a million things at once, toting the kids from room to room to room with me. Finally, my parents arrived and I was able to bark orders at them and try to not leave absolutely everything at home. The plan was to leave the house at 6:30. My parents arrived around 6:20 and Chris got home at about 6:45.

We said goodbye to the kids, leaving me in tears. The funny thing is, neither my dad nor my husband really said anything about my crying. My dad asked if I was okay and Chris gave me that "You're going to be fine" look. I think they were afraid if they asked for details, I'd actually give them and no man wants that. We were all fine with them talking sports and me sniffling alone in the dark.

Our plane ended up being delayed for almost two hours, which just added to my sense of frustration. Hurry up and wait. Why I expected anything else is beyond me.

The good news is that my husband I enjoyed a wonderful, long weekend away. I knew we would, and really, it didn't matter *what* was in my suitcase. I don't know why I get so stressed out in situations like that -- I was doing the best I could with what I had to work with and I still got snippy and freakish.

Oh my goodness -- here comes that dreaded line -- I'm becoming my mother.

Blue on behalf of loved ones...

Today's not the best day I can remember. You ever talk to people you really, really care about and love and just ACHE because of the struggles they are going through?

Today -- I have lots of them.

I don't want to go into detail -- for one thing, I would be here until midnight, but lots of it is stuff that I need to keep in the vault. It's just HARD. Life -- it's hard. And it's not fair. And it sucks sometimes. And it rips people's hearts open and stomps on them.

And we're all expected to keep going. And believe that not only *can* it get better, but that it *will*. And every day is supposed to be better than the last. And time heals all wounds. And one foot in front of the other. And everything happens for a reason.

And I DON'T LIKE IT.

I don't like hearing other people tear other people down. I don't like watching self-destructive behaviors unfold time and again. I don't like watching families implode. I don't like watching people try to hide themselves and their pain from everyone else because they feel some sort of shame. I don't like watching people suffer at the hands of selfish others who can't see past the tip of their own noses. I don't like watching people grieve because there's nothing left to do. I don't like watching other people's dreams get shattered by things that are completely out of their control. I detest hearing people I love demean other people that I love.

This too shall pass...it all will. I'm aware of that. The grass is always greener, someone's always worse off than you are. Blah, blah, blah. Right now, though -- it sucks, and for quite a few people that I love dearly.

This isn't a pity party -- there's nothing anyone can do, because believe me, I'd be doing it. It's a vent -- there are a lot of people I'd love to have some words with, but I can't for a variety of reasons. I have a lot locked up right now and I just needed an outlet to get some of the steam out.

In a nutshell...

Anyone else have Mike Myers in their heads saying "Look, I'm in a nutshell!" LOL He's such a goof.

So, how exactly DO you put a 6 month old in a nutshell? I don't know but I'll try.

Georgia is 6 months old today and I'm feeling nostalgic about how quickly it's gone as well as more blessed than I'm ever grateful enough to realize. I know I'm her Mommy, so of course to me she is the most beautiful baby that ever was -- okay, well -- she's tied with another little boy I once knew. :) Don't read this as a brag -- read this as the liner notes to my Mommy's heart.

*Even when I was pregnant with her, I knew she was full of energy. My delivery nurse told me he'd NEVER seen a baby that active in labor. At least 4 times people came running in because she'd kicked the monitor off and they thought she was crashing. Chris and I just laughed because every staff member that came in was amazed at how enormous her movements were and how CONSTANT. We were used to it, but it really was something to see. Know what I feel sad about? We never took a video of my belly jumping around. You'll just have to take my word for it.

*She was INSTANTLY engaged with us after her birth. The funny thing is that everyone who was just commenting about what a crazy person she was in my belly were then astounded that she was SOOOO alert right away. Ummmm, hello? Doesn't the logic follow there? I knew she'd be wide awake and trying to take it all in.

*Her spirit is so much bigger than her body, and she's always been like that. She is seriously (seriously.) just happy to be alive. Happy to be in the room. Ever since her first day here, she hasn't complained much unless her belly is empty. (Actually, I'm glad that she doesn't tolerate messy diapers as well as her brother -- I'm hoping that means good things for potty training speed.) She has always been just excited for you to make eye contact with her.

*Her smile is contagious. She figured it out early and whips it out often. Combine it with those big, brown, engaging eyes and she's a tough one to ignore.

*I think her giggle is on the angel's soundtrack. I'm not kidding -- you can't not laugh yourself when you hear it, or at least smile, even if you are in an exceptionally bad mood. You can tell she's laughing from her soul, and because she's TRULY happy. The really great part of this is that at least 70% of the time, she's laughing at her big brother.

*Speaking of Mitchell, I think that their little sibling love affair started before she even got out. I remember him trying to put one of those little teeny pumpkins in my belly last Halloween. When she started getting active in there, she'd ALWAYS perk up when he talked to my tummy, even if she had been quiet for hours.

*I am glad to say that she appears to be a goofball like her Momma. Having a sense of humor has gotten me into trouble in the past, but most of the time it helps more than anything. She's got one. I assure you. The girl has a sense of timing. She knows just when to slap someone. Her ability to blow raspberries is always done with a flawless sense of exactly when and toward whom they should be directed. I hope that when she starts mocking me I'm able to remain appreciative of her humor. (Eeeee. Just thought of myself in middle school and got the bad kind of goosebumps. Uh-oh.)

*She's already challenging me in ways that I never knew she could. See, I'm used to raising an observer -- a slow to come out of his shell and explore child. She has NEVER been that way. Their births are perfect examples -- I'm convinced he was in jumping jack position in the birth canal, wedging himself in there because he needed more time to get comfortable with arriving in this world. It took me 3 hours to get that child out by pushing. Not Georgia -- 20 minutes later and there she was with everyone asking if she was a c-section because her head was unscathed. Nope -- she just wanted to get out and start the party. She wants to hold everything, open everything, eat everything, play with everything. She wants to go, go, go. Now. Yesterday, as a matter of fact. This little go-getter personality is new to me on the motherhood front. It's like raising myself, and let me tell you how scary that is. It's official -- we have a little Chris and a little Tara. I predict big love, lots and lots of laughing, and fights worth remembering when they happen.

*She couldn't POSSIBLY be any sweeter. She hasn't yet said a word (well, I think one day she was saying "ato" for Mitchell, but it hasn't happened again), but this little girl can TALK to you. She is the most expressive little girl and there is absolutely NO doubt about her love for us or trust in us. That in itself is the most precious gift she can give.

What a job, to be a Mommy. Specifically to her. I can't believe this 6 months has flown by. It seems like just yesterday I was putting together her carseat and stroller and just Wednesday I put together her BIG girl carseat and took the baby seat attachment off of the stroller. Today I have lots of little clothes to pack away. Wednesday is her doctor visit and I know he's going to tell me to start feeding her food. As much as I know she'll love it, I don't want to. That means she's taking yet another step away from being the tiny, precious little life that I knew would grow too fast. I think instead of mourning the baby that's growing too quickly, I will instead cherish the sweet, adorable, unique little girl that I am blessed to call my daughter.

(In case you're wondering, yes -- I did cry as I typed this whole thing.)

My prayer today is that she is always as blessed in her own life as we are to have her in ours.

I love you, Love Bug. Happy half birthday, baby girl. I know you will do great things.

I might be crazy...

I make myself FEEL crazy sometimes. You ever do that to yourself?

I feel all normal in one minute, then I do something and I'm like ...what am I, crazy or something? Like I went from just being all happy and normal to feeling sad in a millisecond. I think I'm just overwhelmed and tired. Things have been really busy and I think I'm just feeling it now.

Georgia rolled over for the first time tonight and it made me SOOO sad. Like I feel like it's the beginning of the end of everything "baby" in my life. Isn't that just lame? She is a happy, healthy, thriving, growing little girl -- that's the whole idea of having children, right? But then she does what she's supposed to be doing and I get sad. Made me feel crazy.

We're done having children. As much as I know that's absolutely the right thing for our family, I get sadder every time I think about it. Like -- what would life have been like without Georgia? Is there another little Lujan we're supposed to have? It's just insane -- we've never ever even DISCUSSED having 3 kids -- I never WANTED 3 kids -- but now that we have our two, and they're here, I'm sad that this chapter is closed.

I'm not sure I'm even making any sense. I wish I could put it into words that DID make sense and have it just be like "Yep -- I totally know" when anyone hears that. I just feel like saying that then the obvious response is "You're not done then - -you need to have more children." But that's not it because I KNOW we're done -- as much as I feel sad about it, I don't want any more children.

Okay -- I 'm just going to stop now before I sound even more ridiculous. Hopefully this will make sense to someone. If not just ignore it -- I think I'm hormonal tonight or something.

No plans...

It is SOOOO nice to say that we have no plans for today. None. At all. Not one thing.

Sometimes life just gets too crazy and I end up just running around. Whether it's running from here to school, running errands, heck...running up and down the stairs 49 times doing laundry... it just feels good to have a day where I can sit on my bootie and not do a darn thing if I don't want to.

Is there laundry to do? You betcha. Dirty dishes? Definitely. Bathrooms to clean? Of course!

Guess what -- there are also oatmeal cookies to bake, naps to take, books to read, kids to play with, a husband to cuddle with and good music to enjoy. My couch needs me today. Those cookies are DYING for me to whip them up. The backyard finally gobbled up my two guys and their soccer ball.

What a great day -- for doing NOTHING. (We are going to church though.)

Totally on a different topic -- just picked Georgia up out of the swing to put her in the pack n play for the rest of her nap. I absolutely LOVE IT when I pick her up and she gets all froggy with her legs and little but. Ugh. She's gonna grow too fast...soon she won't fit on my chest, under my chin all snuggled up. Too soon I'm going to be holding someone else's newborn saying "My kids were never this little."

Leave it to me to cry about her getting too big when she's the littlest she'll ever be. Sigh. As if I don't have enough to worry about. I think for today -- I'll just decide to cherish her the way she is and give her more snuggles and kisses than she needs.

Off to the oven for some cookies!!!

Georgia is here!!!

Okay, so a week and a half later...and I finally remembered that I have a blog! :)

After all of that stuff leading up to her birth, really all it took was someone telling her she COULDN'T be born last weekend, and boom...there she was, insisting on it! Apparently the doctor on call from my ob practice requested no inductions last weekend because she had a big charity function to attend. Well, Saturday afternoon Georgia decided to kick things into gear anyway.

I got a big, huge contraction out of the blue, enough to double me over on the bed and use some breathing to get through it. I told Chris that it was DEFINITELY a real contraction and that I thought this was the day. We kept our eye on the contrax and for the most part they were 8-10 min. apart for the better part of 2 hours. When we called the ob to tell her that, she was hesitant to let us wait for my father in law at the house because she said you just never know how quick these 2nd babies want to come out. It ended up being fine. He arrived like 15 minutes later and we were on our way.

We got to the hospital around 5, and by the time we got checked in, up to the L & D floor, settled in, paperwork filled out, etc. they checked me and I was at 5 cm and totally thinned out. I about did a happy dance!! I told them that my plan was to hang out and walk around as long as I could before getting my epidural because I didn't want to be stuck in bed the whole time. They were fully supportive of that and we were on our way. Unfortunately, it was all back labor again. That pretty much stunk, but you take what is given to you, right? I actually felt good about just breathing through them and doing this little hula hoop swishy circle thing my nurse showed me. My AMAZING coach and hubby did a great job of helping me through them and we had a good laugh at him hula hooping along with me for awhile. They started getting stronger and I had Chris push really hard on my lower back to get me through them for the middle-last part of the time.

Oh, I should add that since my doctor was at the charity function, she had another doctor covering for her. Not a doctor from my practice, but someone entirely different. Never heard of her, never met her, knew nothing about her. I do know that if our doctors trust her, then I have good reason to trust her, so I tried to go with that, even though I was pretty nervous about it. She came to see me and the plan was to get my epidural at 9, then break my water and go from there.

Well, at about 8:30 I got a KILLER contraction and I looked at Chris and said "Okay, this is getting stupid now" and we decided to just go ahead and get the epidural at that point. So, about 15 minutes later we got that going. Ironically, even though I lost the pain, the hour or so after getting my epi was the absolute WORST part of my labor. I got the shakes like CRAZY, my blood pressure dropped a bit and I was TOTALLY nauseated. I just felt really scared...our AWESOME nurse (Danny was his name) told me that it was partially because I'd been in total control of everything for so long and now I didn't have that control. Makes sense, huh? Anyway, we cleared out my family (mom, dad, brother, sister in law) to the waiting room and just tried to concentrate on resting, breathing and calming down. Worked pretty well.

I stalled out at about an 8, but you know, that may have just been Miss Georgia biding her time until my doctor was done with her dinner engagement. She got to the hospital around 10, checked me and had them start pitocin. An hour later and we were good to go. I pushed for about 20 minutes and everything was over. She came out and was good and healthy from the start.

I cried when she cried and just couldn't believe how fast it all went. She weighed 8 lbs, 1 oz and was 20 inches long. She has black hair, just sort of peach fuzzy on top and then quite a bit in the back. She's gorgeous and sweet and we are SOOOO beyond blessed to have her in our family.

I was right...we didn't know we were missing her here until she showed up. It's like she's always been here. Mitchell loves her and Chris and I are completely smitten. It's crazy that you'd choose to return to these sleepless, worrisome nights, but every time we hold her and look at her, there's no question that she was meant to be from the start. She's a little miracle and my heart is full with love and appreciation for the gift of her life with ours.

Forget it...

I'm done trying to be happy and cheerful the whole time. I want my baby and I want her now!! I know in the grand scheme of things, a week is only a matter of 7 days. I know this...I'm a logical, rational, thinking person. I'm aware that a week's time is nothing. But you know what, when you've spent the last 40 weeks with this date firmly cemented in your family's future history -- a week beyond it DOES seem like a long time.

I mean, what if you had your dream vacation planned for the 20th and the 20th gets here, your bags are packed, the house is clean, everyone (and I mean the entire free world) knows you're "leaving", you get to the airport and find out your plane is delayed. Delayed? For how long? Well, not sure. It COULD be that things could go into motion on their own and your plane could leave anytime now -- go home and wait to see if that happens. If nothing happens before the 27th, then call us at 7:30 p.m. on the 27th and we'll tell you if THAT flight to Hawaii has room for you. If not, then we'll certainly get you in as soon as possible.

NOW does it seem like a long time, people????????? Because it sure does to me!!!!!! I think the thing that's also complicating things is that Chris had to schedule his paternity leave WAAAYYY ahead of time. I guess we should have anticipated this (hindsight-right?) and had it start NEXT Monday? But you know, then she would have been early.

Anyway... I know people just try to make you feel better, but in the moment, a week feels like an eternity to me.

Feeling blue...

I don't exactly know what's wrong with me, but I've been down in the dumps all week. Literally. Some really tragic news (someone I've grown to just adore gave birth to her little girl this week, and she was stillborn) hit me especially hard and just compounded the whole emotional side of life. I really, honestly don't know what the deal is. I have a WONDERFUL husband who has really tried very hard to be there for me and even brought me flowers one night. Bless him for that...if I don't understand what the heck is up with me, how in the world could he possibly do that? We were talking about things this morning and I just lost it. Again. Bawling my head off, can't get under control. Nice. I ended up calling my friend to tell her I won't make it to her little guy's birthday party...no way in the world could I have pulled that off. I of course start crying when I tell her I'm not coming...she asks if I'm in labor. Ha! That would mean I have a reason...no, just looney. Ugh. My friend is in town from California as well, so I missed a chance to see her which I hate as well. This better be a little hormonal dip that is followed by some sunshine soon.

In addition to my hormonal bluesy week, Mitchell has been a pill...not sleeping, pretty sassy, in general...being an expert 3 year old. Well, yesterday he had 6 poops and they were the kind that just BURN the skin. I mean it was on fire!! Poor guy. He just cannot figure out that telling us he's gone will be okay...especially when it hurts like that. He was screaming at the top of his lungs "OWIE, OWIE, STOP TOUCHING MOMMY, IT HURTS MOMMY" etc. while I'm trying to clean him off. It's one thing to tag team that with Chris but by myself at 37 (almost) weeks preggo is just NOT a good thing. I ended up soaking his little bottom in the tub for 10 minutes a couple of times and have gone through a ton of little washcloths with warm water because the wipes just kill him. It's much better today...I cut out the dairy, and all he's had are plain noodles, some toast, dry cereal and some applesauce. He hasn't gone yet today so hopefully it was a one day thing, but I have no idea what triggered it. Just praying we're on the upturn.

Some good news is that everything is plugging along with the pregnancy. Georgia is fine, I'm fine, nothing to report. She's measuring almost a week ahead, but does that really even mean anything? I don't think so, other than she's bigger than her brother was at this point.

Well, I'm exhausted. Chris and I had a pretty big tiff today and I don't think either of us feel good about it at all. There were plenty of tears on my end which I'm sure he was hoping he'd already seen the last of. How do you explain to someone that you have no idea why you're crying, that you have no idea why you're being unreasonable, that you have no idea why everything is putting you on edge and making you upset? Men need reasons and logic and there's NONE to be had in this body. I'm hoping that he just cuts me some slack...again. Ugh. See, crying again just thinking about it. Mitchell was still sleeping, so he went to church on his own. Hopefully just being away from me for awhile will do him some good. Who'd have thought with the long hours he works that he'd want MORE time away from home? Wow. Not the kind of motivation I was hoping to dish out, but there I am. I made an effort to get outside and get some fresh air and sunshine...hope it sunk in. (Still feels like a rain cloud to me, but I'm working on it.)

Oh well. Hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow.

Hormones...

Okay, so I haven't blogged in over 3 months...what else would I begin with but hormones??

I woke up this morning and just felt a bit "off". I was nauseated, a bit grumpy, REALLY tired and just not myself. I was supposed to go to my mom's house and drop Mitchell off so that I could use a gift certificate at the spa for a manicure and lip/eyebrow wax. About half an hour before I was supposed to leave, I decided to cancel since I'd hate to spend precious spa time feeling like crap. Of course, this has led to multiple phone calls from my family wanting to make sure that I'm fine. I completely started bawling on the phone with Chris when I called him to tell him how I felt...and have no idea why. Well, yes I do...hormones. I was (half) joking with Chris the other day that I can barely handle my own hormones...what in the world am I supposed to do with MORE girl hormones???

That said, I'm trying so hard to just enjoy these last couple of weeks of being pregnant. I'm sick of the maternity clothes and the underwear that Mitchell could use as a nightshirt, but other than that I'm (not today obviously) feeling pretty good. I was just laughing with the person who is doing my private practice billing for me on the phone yesterday about how boring my appointments are and that sometimes it's almost not worth the drive. She said she'd love to have that problem...her daughter was born at 24 weeks and she's 21 weeks along now and already having issues again. Talk about wanting to take your words and stuff them right back into your mouth!! Nothing like someone else's reality to make your own seem like a dream.

I think that the more I think about pregnancy and childbirth, the more and more miraculous it seems. I've recently dug out our "prepared childbirth" handbook so we could practice relaxation and breathing techniques since he wasn't up for the 3 hour refresher course. Looking at the pictures, reading the information...no offense to those whose opinions differ, but I for the life of me CANNOT understand how someone can not believe in God. Truly. There is a little PERSON inside of me right now, growing and developing. When she comes out she will have one of our noses, one of our eye color, etc. Her personality will (uh-oh) resemble that of some of each of us...yet she won't be a clone. She'll be her own little person and we are trusted with the privilege of raising her in this crazy world. It's just insane.

I've heard from other friends who have had more than one child about what a giant Mitchell will look like when we bring her home. I had my first taste of that when I put the little pack of her diapers away in the changing table. I had to go get one of his pullups to put next to it and I was just in awe that his bootie started that small. (Smaller actually...I remember using premie diapers on him for awhile.) Yet, he still does seem so small to me...he's our little man. I don't know how in the world he got to be three years old or such a great little person, I just know I feel lucky to know him, let alone be his Mommy and current best friend. He's such a sweet boy and I hate to think that will ever change. He is just such a caring little guy and seems to have such a heart for other people and animals...every time he sees a baby or an animal on tv, he instantly goes into high pitched voice mode and says "Oh, look at the little baby/puppy/etc." Today he knew I wasn't feeling good, and he was playing with his toys and listening to his Sesame Street cd while I laid on the couch. He came over and gave me this gigantic hug and said "I'm so sorry you're sick, Mommy." **Melt** Who can explain that sort of heart grabbing feeling? No one told him to say that...he just did. Then, he laid on the couch with me, giving "his" Baby Georgia a big hug and singing the songs to her for about 10 minutes. Doesn't sound like a long time, but that's pretty much an eternity to a 3 year old. He'd sing, then kiss her, then do tickly fingers and say "tickle tickle", then give her a little rub with his fingers. Way too cute and makes me so glad we decided to have another. He already loves being a brother and she's not even out yet.

Speaking of Mitchell..he just woke up from his nap so that's the end of my first blogging session in awhile. Thanks for the nudge, Kim. :)

Shaken...

...to the core by what I've seen from this hurricane. I don't even live there, really don't know too many people who do or have, but it is FRIGHTENING on such a huge, heartbreaking, life-changing scale. It just does something to your insides when you see people interviewed on TV who have lived in New Orleans all of their lives and they say "This was it. This was the one we've heard about our whole lives." I mean, the ENTIRE city is underwater?? It's just nuts, and so is all of the stuff that follows. I guess in some way I sort of understand it, but in many ways it just makes me more sad for that whole community and for people in this country in general. The one that made me go from teary-eyed to flat out crying was the lady coming out of the store with a stack of diapers and wipes and she had them covering her face. Sigh. What in the world would you do?? I mean, what if you were a new mom and couldn't breastfeed? How would you handle it if you had to try and deliver a baby in all of that insane chaos? They showed a spot on the NICU at the only functioning hospital and this mom was standing next to her teeny tiny little life and saying that the machine keeping him alive depends on electricity. Can you even IMAGINE that kind of dread and fear??? I can't. The ironic thing is that I spent a few days all weepy and feeling sorry for myself over some (what I realize now is EXTREMELY trivial) "stuff" with life, and am now somewhat embarrased for even having had those thoughts. I'm luckier than I ever could have dreamed and need to live that way every day. Too bad it took seeing thousands killed, homeless and in desperate need for everything to make me realize. Someone slap me with the stupid stick, quick!!

My hope is that it brings out the best in people. Not just the rest of us who are lucky enough to be sitting on our couches, watching it unfold on our TV's while our kids eat snacks in their clean clothes and clean diapers. I think it goes without saying that we all need to give what we can. Look and see what we have two of that someone else might only have one of and give...I heard that on the radio today. Besides that, the obvious, I'm also talking about the victims themselves. My prayers for them have been to restore their determination and will, to not let this tragedy diminish their faith, and to somehow hold onto to hope through the kind words and actions of others. I know that will be tough to do, but that's my hope for them.

I don't really feel like writing about anything else today...it would feel pretty trivial.