Spitting Image

I better date their baby picture before I get confused… cause boy, oh boy, don’t these boys look a like?

Oldest and youngest.

Biggest and smallest

And boy, oh boy, do I love them.

Infamous

I always wondered what I’d do if I had a skinny baby.

Probably freak out just a little.

Slimness is not something that my kids “do.” At least during their first year of life. They are big at birth, and they just keep getting bigger. Rounder and rounder. Chubbier and chubbier with this great stuff called mother’s milk. Its not that they eat an extraordinary amount, its that, according to the doctors, I make pure whipping cream.

It never takes long before the infamous family double chin appears.

Doesn’t he wear it well? Oooh, I just love my little double chinned boy.

Blue Eyed Boy

I don’t know how it keeps happening, but we keep producing blue eyed boys. (and it appears Samuel’s eyes are going to be blue as well).

I admit that I’ve always kind of wanted one of our sons to be the spitting image of his father. Brown eyed. Brown haired. And drop dead gorgeous.

Okay, so my boys don’t need to be quite that good looking (I’m so not looking forward to fending off the females in the years to come!!) But still, I love the dark hair and dark eyes, and would love for my boys to follow after their daddy.

And they do.

In so many ways they are their fathers sons. The smiles. The expressions. The way they walk. Talk. Gesture.

But…

There are no brown eyes like their daddy’s here.

Oh goodness, aren’t his eyes just so blue?

 

*sure wish we’d wiped lunch off his face before snapping these beauties. Nuts.

Mother and Son

Words can’t express the closeness of this bond. Mother and child. Praise God for this new addition

Baby of the House

Noah has been the baby of the house for 2+ years now, and let me tell you, he loves his baby status. Loves it.

He loves climbing (and fitting!) on mommy and daddy’s laps. He loves snuggling and being held. He loves holding hands. And he LOVES asking for help with everything… even if it’s a skill or a task that he can accomplish on his own.

And of course, he’s so darn cute, and he’s only 2, and he’s THE BABY, we’ve let him get away with the extra neediness. But the reality of having another baby has hit us this past week. The pregnancy has flown by and my due date is coming up quickly. And our dear Noah is in for a shot of cold water, as the painful “dethroning” process will hit before we know it.

So we’re working at preparing him, gradually, and a little more each week.

We’ve done lots of little things the past few months… like making him walk and instead of being carried. Training him to sleep in a big boy bed instead of his crib (this was actually an effortless transition!!!!!! We can’t believe how well he did. I don’t think he EVER got out of bed, and still doesn’t get out of bed until I come open his door in the morning). Having him sit on his own (instead of on our laps) during church. Encouraging the older two boys to include him in their play (Noah is often left out, since he can’t build with small Legos etc)

We’ve also been working at different little skills. Taking off his own shoes and socks (yes, he “really” can’t do that on his own). Cleaning up his toys as part of the routine, instead of “only if the bigger brothers aren’t doing it fast enough.”

This past week, I started showing him lots of pictures of baby’s and pointing at my tummy and telling him that we’re having another baby soon. I show him pictures of his brothers as infants, pictures of other baby’s, pictures in books and magazines etc. And do you know what this little bugger says every time he sees a picture of a baby?

“That’s Noah!!!”

With as much delight and joy over seeing “himself” (not really himself, just a cute little swaddled bundle of baby in the pictures), as you can imagine.

Haha! This kid is so stinking smart he KNOWS he’s the baby. And oh my goodness, isn’t that cute? Just makes me want to coddle and cuddle him all the more. So anyway, pray for Noah, and pray for us, that we’ll help prepare him and ease the transition. And that he’ll love his new little brother and that it’ll be a happy occasion when “big” baby meets “little” baby.

Love My Hard Working Men

My kids are some of the hardest workers out there.

They see dirt and they know how to move it. They know how to transport it. They know how to dig it.

They don’t worry about getting their hands dirty. Or about the job being too tough. They just do it.

They know how to concentrate on the job. They stay focused and don’t get distracted.

They know about safety. And about hard hats. And about helmets are good substitutes. Even if they are much (much much) too small.

And they know how to work together. Most of the time.

Love my hard working men.

Love. This. Kid

I love each one of my three sons with my whole heart… in a way that only a mother can. They are each precious to me in different ways and bring joy inexpressible joy to my heart and life. 

This is my dear Joshua. My middle son. My 3 “but I’m almost 4!!” year old beauty.

Oh boy, do I Love.This.Kid

I love him for his shining smile and his wide spaced teeth.

I love him for his tender heart and his sensitivity that far exceeds any 3 year old I've ever met.

I love him for his attention to detail and his love for fine art. I love that he always notices when I paint my toenails, or am wearing a new pair of shoes.

I love that he loves to cook, mix, roll, and knead. I love that he’s comfortable in the kitchen.

I love that he looks like me.

I love him for his creativity, for his joy and vitality, and for the Light that shines in and through him. I love that he loves his God. Our God.

Lord, thank you for my sons. Each one.

Bedtime kisses

I was thinking last night, as I tucked the boys in bed, that bedtime kisses are such a precious way to end the day.

Often as we get ready for bed, I feel rushed and hurried, trying to get teeth brushed, clothes in the laundry and the last toys picked up before bowing our heads to pray together and sing a bedtime song.  I often feel an overwhelming desire to “just get them in bed already!!”

But you know, there is something about bedtime kisses that just makes the world stop.  The hurry, the rush, the fatigue… it stops.

And for a moment or two, or ten, we slow down. We breathe deep. And we enjoy those tender snuggles and kisses from our three little boys.

Isaiah likes to give 5 kisses and 5 hugs and likes to count them out as he gives them. It always makes me smile when I imagine him catching his breath and gasping for air in between kisses in order to shout: “One!” “Two!” “Three!” etc. My cheeks are always damp at the end… but its an endearing kind of dampness, the kind that fills me with happiness as I take in his warm breath and soft skin.

Joshua likes to give 2 kisses and 2 hugs. And he likes to divide the kisses between cheeks. He often grows distraught if he forgets to give each cheek an equal amount, and says things like, “Mommy!! I wanted to do two kisses on this side AND two kisses on that side so that they have the same ma‘mount.” And so we begin the kissing count down again, making sure each side receives the proper portion. I love being kissed so devotedly.

Noah is in on the act as well. He doesn’t count or measure his kisses, he just gives loud, wet smacks, and says “Mmmmmmah” as he does it. It’s so sweet it gives me shivers. Noah also makes sure to offer a few bedtime smackers to his brothers. He stands at the foot of the bunk-bed with arms stretched high, waiting to be lifted up to kiss his big brother on the top bunk. It melts my heart.

These bedtime kisses bring my day to such a precious close. I always leave the room, (as Nick sits down to read to them from a “chapter book” --currently the Chronicles of Narnia), with a smile on my kiss stained face.

Oh these boys and their sweet little kisses! Oh, may the day never come when they are too big to kiss their mama.

Or… too big for their mama to kiss them.

Because, I admit, I’m not the only one whose cheeks are covered in love. Truly, I cannot resist their round little cheeks, chubby little toes, and soft little hands and I smother my boys at least as many kisses as I receive.

Oh boy, I love it. And I’ll kiss them till the day I die.

God is good.

Before my very eyes

My “little” Noah is growing up before my very eyes. Each day it seems, he comes up with a new trick, a new word, and some sign of deepening cognitive development.

It’s such an exciting stage. And I love it.

The other day, I mentioned I needed to throw something away. Noah walked over, picked up the object, ran across the living room, into the kitchen, found the trash can, opened the lid, and popped it in. This kid can think! And this is more than following commands, this is actual discernment. At a one year olds level of course, but still. Smart kid.

Noah also found a cup in the bathroom and said, “Dink! Dink!” (drink) and then, holding my hand in his and the cup in the other, he led me into the kitchen, took me to the water dispenser in the fridge and repeated his brilliance “Dink! Dink!

So I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when he pulled a fast one in the back yard the other day.

The boys and I were playing outside on the swings together. The older two lost interest (or maybe I stopped pushing them?) and began playing on the slide and the climbing rope. Noah wanted to join in too so I took him out of the swing. And then left them playing together in a group in the yard to run inside to make a picnic lunch.

I came back out and saw Isaiah and Josh still playing by the slide. And Noah? I couldn’t find him!! I quickly scanned the yard, and didn’t see him. I knew the backyard was fully fenced, so I wasn’t quite panicked… but still. I couldn’t find him.

But then… he found me. He spotted his Mama and shouted out a “Hey-yo!!” and then went back to work.

In my garden. With his backhoe and front end loader. That had been on the other side of the yard. I’ll tell ya, boys know their machines and they know where to find dirt. It doesn’t matter how old they are!!

Oh man, I love this kid!! He amazes me every day.

A doozy of a day

Yep it’s been a doozy

It’s my birthday today. I’ve been blessed with twenty nine years of wonderful life. And it’s been a great and wonderful and beautiful day.

Only it didn’t start that way. In fact, it started quite the opposite. Let me go back to this early (early early) this morning.

It’s 5am and I’m awakened by a piercing yell of my dear little Noah. At first I roll over and try to ignore. Wrapped up in a happy dream of beaches and waves on the shore. Maybe Nick will get up with him, I think. But then I realize that Nick’s not home. And not going to be home again for quite awhile. I feel sadness as the realization of his absence hits me. And even sadder as the yelling doesn’t stop for the room next door. And sadder still when I remember today is supposed to be a special day. It’s my birthday.

I stumble out of bed to check on Noah, soothe him back to sleep, and tip toe out of his room, just hoping that I’ll be able to catch a few more minutes of shut eye before my alarm goes off at 6.

But I can’t sleep. I want to, but I’m stuck in the tossing turning almost awake, but almost asleep state of unrestful rest. My one year old keeps squawking now and then too, so each time I drift off, I’m awoken again. Finally I just get up.

As Noah smacks away on his morning bottle, I pull out my bible and try to get a few moments of quiet devotion in before the other boys wake up. But I’m cranky now too. And struggling to be grateful and focused in my prayer and reading time. And before I really get anywhere with my reading, I hear the other two boys wake up and not two pleasant words were exchanged between them before the fighting began.

Sigh oh sigh sigh sigh.

It’s my birthday. Can’t we all just get along? And be happy all day?

Josh woke up on the wrong side of bed. He realized a toy wasn’t in his bed, and worse, he found it in Isaiah’s hands. Whining and fighting, followed by more fighting and whining. Josh cannot get it together. Every word from his mouth is filled with rebellion and contrariness. My sweet and tenderhearted boy struck with a case of Mr Grumpy’s. And the hardest part? Disciplining consistently and training kids to obey regardless of how they feel, to follow God’s commands whether we feel like it or not. Whether we miss daddy or not. Whether we got enough sleep or not. Whether we have the prized toy or not.

So while I’m dishing out discipline right and left, Noah is playing with my cell phone and calls far and distant friends in far and distant time zones, and I begin receiving worried phone calls from elderly friends and formers pastors, “I got 3 calls from your number early this morning, is every thing okay?? We’ve been worried”

Meanwhile, Isaiah dumps out several board games and all their pieces in his bed, and then while trying to recover a lost cherry from Hi-Ho-Cheerio, he rips a page of his favorite book and dissolved into traumatized tears.

And what do I do? Oh competent accomplished sophisticated mother that I am?

I just sit down on the floor and laugh. I laughed and laughed and laughed. The boys said, “Mom!?!?!? What are you laughing for?” and between guffaws and giggles, I say, “It’s either laughing or crying, Guys!!”

And it was. Cause oh boy, I could have cried up a storm. It’s my birthday and my husband just left. It’s my birthday and there’s no birthday greetings whispered in my ear first thing this morning. There are no birthday kisses left on my lips. And it’s Labor day, and there’s no special packages or cards or boxes waiting to be delivered by a mailman on a National holiday. No mail at all. No Fed Ex or UPS either. It’s my birthday, and my kids aren’t old enough to bake me a cake, or buy and wrap gifts. It’s my birthday. My 29th birthday.  My last birthday in my 20’s. Oh boy, it really really was LAUGH. Or CRY.

But I was able to laugh. God gave me the grace, the joy, the love, the patience… to laugh. To laugh at my boys. And life. And my situation. Oh and a merry heart makes good like medicine.

It was just what I needed too, because as we headed to the breakfast table, the meltdowns continued. Josh had to be excused from the table 3 times because he couldn’t keep it together (literally crying over spilled milk). I found myself waiting and wishing for Nick to call, knowing that he would try so hard to call on my birthday. Only to go grab my phone and realize that he had called. Twice.

AND MY SILLY PHONE WAS ON VIBRATE so I didn’t hear it and didn’t get it and totally missed my one opportunity to talk with my hubby.

Sigh. Major big-time. I shed a few tears over this one, I admit. Nuts!!

We finish breakfast and devotions and I load the dishes into the dishwasher, with my trusty Noah helper (and dishwasher unloader) by my side. And then I hear it. Gail's of glee from the back of the house. I head back to check on my boys, who had literally been left alone for 5 minutes, and find my bedroom door closed. Sigh.

I open the door to see two little naked boys jumping on my bed. “Where are your clothes?,” I ask. “We took them off, and put them in a pile, and then peed on them!!!” is the cheerful response.

And I laugh. I laugh so hard, so long, so purely and blissfully, I almost had to add my clothes to the pile of peed on laundry.

Oh what a morning. Not the birthday morning, I’d anticipated, but as my mom suggested, a very very memorable birthday in birthday history.

The rest of the day went (relatively) smoothly from there, and was filled with phonecalls and texts and emails and Facebook posts that delighted my heart all day. And as I was going down the grocery store aisles this afternoon, I wished out loud that Nick would be able to call again. No sooner had the words left my lips, when my phone rang. And it was Nick. And were able to talk for a few minutes before we hurried off to soccer practice.

Then tonight, a handful of girlfriends came over and cheered my spirits so completely, I can’t even express. We fellowshipped long and freely and enjoyably. And we ate birthday cake like crazy. I was showered with love and gifts and made to feel so special.

And here at the end of the day, I’m truly able to look back on the days events and praise God for every moment of it. And even more so, to remember the past twenty nine years that I’ve enjoyed and to say, God is good. The ups and downs, the joys and trials, the good, the bad, the ugly. God is good.

The Aisle of No Return

The commissary (grocery store for service members) was PACKED today.

Just packed.

And not only had I forgotten my grocery list, but I'd also forgotten my Ergo baby carrier for Noah. (this is what happens when you sign your kids up for early morning swim lessons and then try to multitask by running errands afterwards).


Which means that instead of having all three boys contained while we shop (two in the "car" cart, and one in the carrier), I now had one son on the loose.

So Isaiah was on the loose today and was a great helper for me. He picked things up. He helped bag fruit. He ogled and goggled (and handled) in the candy row.


He also helped clear traffic.


We had just turned down the all-important-aisle-filled-with-everything-we need (or at least things I thought we needed. No list, remember?) when I realized the row looked like Seattle during rush hour. Major traffic jam. Not only were there multiple carts being pushed by their owners, but there were store employees stocking shelves, and old friends catching up.

Yep. It was the row of dread. The row of frustration. The row of "excuse me" and "no problem, I'll wait, while you load your cart with 84 cans of tomato paste." Yep, the row we all want to avoid after we've already expended all our energy keeping three boys from drowning at swim lessons.  (Okay, so I only kept the youngest one from drowning, the other two were under the swim teacher's charge).

I sighed, took a deep breath and just as I was about to begin making my way down the row, my 4 year old Isaiah exclaims bluntly (and in a LOUD voice):

"MOM?? All these people are BLOCKING the way!!!!"

And they were!! And he was right!! But I was still very close to being embarrassed at his comment-- especially when everyone stopped and looked at me with my three little ones and my extra long "car" cart.

But then... when half the crowd in the aisle started laughing and kindly stepped aside for us to pass, my embarrassment faded.

And I thought...

Honesty really is the best policy.

Safe and Sound

He’s home!!

My husband, that is.

As a military family, lengthy separations are part of life. Training, classes, field exercises, deployments— anything from 2 days to 15 months, it’s all part of the job description. It’s common and even expected.

But the one thing it’s not?

It’s not easy.

It might only have been two weeks, but because we couldn’t call or email, it felt like twice as long.

But you know what? After two weeks apart, that felt twice as long… I’m certain I love him twice as much.

If that makes any sense.

In fact, he arrived back on base in the early afternoon, but with all the equipment inventory and recovery that occurs when you arrive home from living in tents for 2 weeks, he needed to stay at work till the late hours of the evening directing traffic and getting things cleaned up.

So do you know what this silly school girl did? She just couldn’t wait until the o’dark thirty hour when he’d be home-home. So she woke her sons up from their naps, packed a picnic lunch, made a “welcome home” sign and drove onto base to see her soldier for a few brief moments before he got back to work.

I know, I’m such a silly school girl.

 But I really couldn’t resist; knowing that he was back, that I could see, hear, and touch him... I couldn’t wait a few more hours. And neither could the boys.

Our reunion was happy and filled with “Hi Daddy’s” and “Look how big I am’s.” (See! the boys felt like it was longer than 2 weeks too) and many many “I love you’s.”

This military life may not be easy, but boy oh boy, the homecoming’s are always so sweet.

The Golden Hour

It's 8:17pm.

And the boys are in bed

In fact they've been in bed since 7:22pm, but shhhh don't tell anyone.

The dishes are done.

The house is tidy.

And I hear the sound...





of Silence.




And let me tell you, it's a beautiful thing.

Thank you, Lord, for moments like this one. For peace. For quiet. For calm. For Smirnoff Cranberry Lime. For avacado face masks. For hot showers. For deep cleansing breaths. And for your Word ministering to my soul.

Space A Travel

The extended vacation that I have alluded to in recent posts was our family’s first “Space A Adventure.”

For those not in the military crowd, flying “Military Space Available” (or Space A) is something akin to flying standby—only it is on military aircraft leaving/arriving at military installations instead of commercial planes to commercial airports. It’s a bit more unpredictable (if you can imagine that), and requires a bit more flexibility (if you can imagine that), but….it’s also COMPLETELY FREE for service members (both active duty and retired).

Yes. I mean it. Completely free.

So, while it can be unpredictable and requires extreme flexibility, it’s one of those crazy amazing benefits to military members. 

Wow.

And… being the bargain hunting, budget minded family that we are…we decided to go for it. We had a huge family reunion taking place on the opposite side of the country, and were looking for ways to minimize the costs of flying across the U.S.

Enter: Our first Space A adventure.

Why didn’t we give it a test run before we had 3 little boys, ages 4, 3, and 1?? I don’t know. But anyway…we did it. God went with us. And though we were completely sleep deprived at both ends of our journey, our trip went extremely well. I won’t deny the challenge of keeping 3 kids (or their parents) calm and rested on an unpredictable flight schedule, but hands down, it was worth the hassle.

The very night Nick signed out on leave/vacation, God provided a direct flight from the Southeast to Northwest (these happen but rarely—as in, twice a month!!) and there were 5 available seats with our names on them. Yes!!

We made our first part of the journey flying in the back of a C-17. Quite an experience to say the least. But really, an amazing one at that.

It was loud and we had to wear ear plugs the entire trip, but we were also able to move around (once we reached cruising altitude, of course) and could run, play, and sleep on the floor of the monster sized plane. It was pretty amazing.

The boys loved it and behaved incredibly well. Or at least it seemed that way. It was so noisy on the plane (loud engines and no insulation) and we had to wear ear plugs the entire 6 hour flight, that I couldn’t hear any whining or crying… and neither could anyone else. Very handy. Haha.

But I speak in jest, I do think the boys behaved really well. In between playing and snacking, all the boys napped on the plane too. What a cool memory for them to play catch in the back of a C-17 while flying above the earth!! Nick was as well behaved as the boys, and gave me a mock presentation of his jumpmaster duties. It’s awe inspiring to think he jumps out of aircraft like this, but a bit scary too. Still can’t believe he does this for a living.

Perhaps one of God’s neatest provisions for us was when we arrived at the Air Force base in Washington. We were tired and weary from traveling most of the night (and the 3 hour time change to boot), only to find that the next leg of our flight (from Washington to California) had been canceled/delayed for 3 days. (See what I mean with flexibility??). While we were registering for continued travel, we were delighted with the somewhat surprise appearance of good friends from our home church in here in the South (the Hilbert’s, for those who know them). They had just moved to the Northwest and were busy getting settled in themselves.

Seeing our weariness, our friends jumped in, whisked us back to their house on base, watched the kids and gave us a little down time while we found a hotel for the night.  Then, while we were trying to decide whether to wait 3 days for the flight, or to just make the 12 hour drive to San Francisco, they INSISTED that we borrow their minivan for the journey to CA so that we could get to the family reunion without delay. Wow. Friends in need are friends indeed. It was above and beyond anything we would have imagined possible and made the decision easy.

Or relatively easy.

When they first offered the use of their minivan, we flatly refused. Borrow someone’s brand new Toyota Sienna, drive 800+ miles with 3 messy boys, keep it for 2 weeks and then drive it back before heading farther north to visit my family?? NO WAY. But I think they must have prayed for us all night, because in the morning, when decision time came for us to drive/rent/fly/wait, Nick and I both had the gut feeling to accept our dear friends generosity and borrow their car.

In some ways, I still can’t believe we did it. But it was so obviously God’s wonderful providence, as the family had no need of the extra vehicle (their spouse/soldier was out in the field for 2 weeks and the car would sit in their garage unused). As our friends put it, “It was no accident that we had an extra vehicle during your time of need.”

Anyway, as you can see, God provided marvelously for us on our Space A trip. Our flight home required a stop-over too, and then a bit of a drive to get our vehicle, but all in all, it was a great trip.

And I think I’d say, we’d do it again.

Everyone loves…

a slip ’n’ slide? Don’t they?

Isaiah and I spotted this incredible Lightning McQueen slip ‘n’ slide when we were out running errands a few weeks ago. It’s a bit more hi-tech than the ones I had growing up—this one has an attachment for the hose to fit into and  a built in sprinkler.

Initially, the boys just wanted to crawl down the red carpet and feel the gentle spray of water (although I guess Josh didn’t really think it was that gentle and kept his nose plugged—haha!).



Then they wanted to grab the water.



And taste the water



And just plain old watch the water.



But then the play really got going.







And being the child at heart that I am… I joined them.

I mean, someone had to show them how it’s done!!

In all honesty, I had at least as much fun as they did. Oh my, it was so fun. I felt like I was 5 years old again, and as carefree and excited as I ever could be. I loved every minute of it.

And I only have a few bruises. So I’m sure I’ll join them again.

I really do think that everyone loves a slip n slide.

Judge me, if you must

I was doing a little car cleaning in prep for our upcoming trip.

I always keep my car clean, (cause I can’t stand a disaster) so this was just one of those quick tidy-up, empty the trash, dump out the crumbs, kind of car cleaning.

But after making 8 trips from the car to the kitchen with my hands full…


I discovered that this was more than a little problem. And required more than just a little car cleaning too.
Sigh.

I’m guessing that we eat a few too many snacks on the go. And that I give into the “Mom, can I bring a toy with me?” request a little too often.



Because somehow one toy attracts another… and another and another. And then those others toys invite their friends and Al-a-ca-ZAM!! One toy so very quickly leads to a few hundred.

Or at least it felt that way while unloading today.



And the rocks, you ask? How did those get in the car?

Well, let me tell you: I HAVE. NO. IDEA.

What I do know, is that boys love rocks, and I love boys, and so I’m sure I’ve been given a few hundred rocks as precious gifts from my boys. If I had girls, I’d probably receive flowers or stickers, as a token of appreciation. But boys, yep, boys love rocks. And really? So does their mom. So I keep them.

I guess that makes the rock pile in the car my fault.



Oh well. What can I say?

Judge me if you must.

But love me, if you will. It happens to be the best of us.