30 weeks!

So here we are! Thirty weeks into the pregnancy! Woot woot!

This pregnancy has been really hard on my body and given me more weird symptoms and discomforts than I’ve ever had before. Nausea. Digestion issues. Spider veins. Varicose veins. Mood swings. Splitting fingernails. Insomnia. Curly curly hair. Unwanted weight gain. Extreme exhaustion. Hormone headaches. Irritability.

But this pregnancy has also been such a blessing and encouragement and sanctifying event for me. As always, I hope that I’m growing in grace and truth and strength every day, but as often seems the case during pregnancy or other challenging times of the month (eh hem), I put my spiritual walk on hold and say, “I’ll strive be more like Christ when I’m feeling better… or when I lose the extra weight, or when the children are out of the house, or when I’m not so busy and exhausted, or when my husband has made our fortune and we don’t have to work hard for every dollar. Then… then that’s when I’ll really grow in grace, that’s when I’ll put the effort in, but now, during this hard bit of hormones and physical discomfort, let me just give in to the moodiness, the cravings, the irritability, and the desire to NOT. DO. ANYTHING.”

And truth be told, I think many of my pregnancy’s (and monthly cycles!) have been that way. I’ve used them as an excuse to be lazy in both my spiritual and physical health, and to backslide just a weeeeeee bit.

So I’m thankful, truly truly thankful for the work that God is doing in me. He hasn’t given me an easy road of effortless pregnancy, or perfect children who sit angelically still and fold the laundry. He hasn’t given me buckets of money, or a husband that doesn’t have to work hard. He hasn’t given me extra hours in my day so that I can “easily” fit in my personal devotions. Instead, he’s given me this.

He’s given me challenges and heartaches and physical discomfort. He’s given me sinful children. He’s given me uncertainty. He’s given Nick 80 hours of work each week. He’s given me intense Southern summer heat. He’s given me friends who’ve failed and disappointed. He’s given me stress, burdens, and tears.

But He’s also given me joy.

True, deep, beautiful unspeakable joy in my life and circumstances. Its not a perfect life. Nor are my dealing and contentment in it. But still. I’m learning. I’m growing. And I’ve seen the Lord do a miraculous work in me, saving me and conforming me to His image—in circumstances that make taking a step back soooo much easier than a step forward.

He has forced deeper self examination than I ever wanted or thought I needed, and has helped me come to grips with many hidden sins of my heart. He has poured out grace and mercy and forgiven me when I’ve failed time and time again. He’s given me a husband who’s been incredibly patient, and children who forgive and forget perhaps a bit too quickly. He’s given me sweet baby kicks in utero to mingle with the stretch marks and weight gain. He has given me his sufficient grace.

And truly his grace is sufficient. It is all we need to resist, to stand firm on His word, to run the race. And so, I’m running. Running hard… but running on His strength that is made perfect in my weakness.

 

 

*a few thoughts on 30 weeks. I’m still gaining more weight that I would like, but because I’m also exercising 4 or 5 days a week, I think I’m staying toned and maybe I don’t look as heavy as the scale indicates?? Not sure, but I’m hopeful. wink wink. I’m measuring 2 weeks bigger (by fundal height) than I am by LMP, so this baby is looking to be another big guy just like his brothers. He is moving and kicking up a storm, making my stomach lurch and causing people to laugh. The boys love feeling him kick. Joshua kisses my tummy before bed each night. We still haven’t decided on a name, but received the advice that we should always name our children something that ends with a vowel, so that the name will carry when we yell. Haha.

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.

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.

Without a trace

It’s blueberry season down here in the South, so blueberry picking we’ve gone.

We made a wonderful family outing of it; picking and eating, and picking and eating. Thankfully, they only weigh the bucket before and after it’s been filled… and not the children (or the parents!!!) before and after they have (eaten) their fill.

Because we love blueberries. And we ate a lot.

(Yes, that is a Play-Doh bucket. It was all I could find that was Noah-size)

And then we came home from blueberry picking and ate a lot. Because we’d picked a lot.

On top of eating fresh blueberries by the handful, we had blueberry pancakes made my wonderful breakfast Chef husband. Then we had blueberry coffee cake. It didn’t last long. We concocted homemade blueberry smoothies (basically yogurt blended with frozen blueberries and strawberries) that would have done Jamba Juice proud. The following week, we made blueberry syrup to top plain made-from-scratch-pancakes.

And when we had the new First Sergeant over for dinner, I made the most amazing blueberry pie ever using my friend Rita’s recipe.

Best Ever Blueberry Pie

2 pints blueberries (4 cups), 1 unbaked pie crust, 1/4 cup butter, 1 cup sugar, 1 egg beaten, 3/4 cup flour, 1 tsp. vanilla. Wash blueberries and place in pie crust. Cream butter & sugar in bowl. Add remaining ingredients and mix well. Spread over blueberries (or use cookie scoop to dollop). Bake at 350 for about 50 minutes or until done. *I topped it with vanilla icecream and it was melt in your mouth, oh so perfect, blueberry pie. I’ve never tasted one this good.*

 

We also added fresh blueberries to every bowl of cut fruit; put them in salads and in our breakfast cereal. We brought them to church potluck in the form of blueberry cobbler. And munched on frozen blueberries as an afternoon snack.

Then my husband called while I was typing this blog post and said he’d like to bring his soldiers breakfast tomorrow. So I immediately responded, “6 dozen blueberry muffins, coming right up, Dear!!” (which means we’re both working late tonight. Haha! Such is life for a Commander and his Wife!)

So the huge bucket of blueberries we picked a few weeks ago?? It’s gone. It’s gone without a trace.

 

 

Well… almost without a trace.

There are few tell tale signs here and there.

 

 

We love our blueberries, can you tell?

One Little, Two Little, Three Little Q-tips

Four little, five little, six little Q-tips…

Seven little, eight little, nine little Q-tips…

But just ONE little Q-tip boy!

 

And for the record, it was more than 10 little Q-tips. More like 750 of them.

Why do they make such big packages of  Q-tips anyway? Sigh. Being the frugal gal that I am, I shoved the Q-tips all back into the container despite the protests of my husband and insisted that we use them anyway.

What’s the big deal? I asked him. There’s nothing wrong with using wet, sucked on, lint covered Q-tips.

Spacing

 My husband and I have been talking about spacing a lot lately.

No, not about gaps between teeth... or inches between parked cars... but the spacing between our children. The years and months that separate them.

We have 3 wonderful children. Three wonderful son's, at that. Our first two boys, Isaiah and Joshua, are just over 17 months apart. Whereas, between Joshua and Noah there are 26 months.

As you may or may not have guessed, we're planners when it comes to having babies. We pray, we seek God's face, we ask for direction...and we take responsibility and plan. That's us. Of course, while we make plans and seek God's path, we also acknowledge our inability to control the future. "Man makes a plan, but God directs his way." If our plans come to naught, we still rejoice and are grateful for God's sovereign control over all our hopes and dreams.

So while many looked at us in shock when we announced my second pregnancy just 9 months after our first child was born, we actually did plan it that way.

Yes. We really did. And no, I'm not just saying that.

We thought it'd be fun to have two close in age. We saw many benefits. Close friendships. Bunkbeds. Shared toys. We also thought that it would be handy for our oldest to never know what it was like to be the only child, and to avoid the struggle and (perhaps the) resentment that the arrival of subsequent siblings might bring. A wise mother of many called it "the de-throning process."

It worked out quite well. Our first two boys are two peas in a pod. They adore each other. They are the closest of friends. They are loyal, faithful, tender hearted to each other. They've grown up together...as much as a 4 year old and almost 3 year old can be called grown up, that is. They play with each other. Entertain each other. Care for each other. All of which has been a wonder and delight to see.

But boy was it, and is it, A LOT of work.

Having two little boys that close in age was almost like having 2 baby's. Sure they were 17 months apart, but for a while they were both very dependent. Two in diapers. Two mouths that needed great assistance to be fed. Twice as many faces to wipe and small laundry items to fold (and those of you with little ones know that a load full of onesies takes TWICE as long to fold than a load of your husbands shirts) While they are often grouped together, the two boys also possess two completely different personalities and needs that need attention all day long.

Thanks to God's providence (and our attempts to plan around deployments), the spacing between our second and 3rd child is 26 months. A big change from 17 months. But with different joys and challenges as well.

Joshua was much more grown up when Noah arrived, yet he was also much more aware of being trumped as the baby of the house. It really threw him off. Josh didn't seem to know if he was a big boy or a baby. There were days when he'd sit next to the rocking chair while I nursed Noah, just waiting for my lap to be empty and to have his snuggling time with mommy. But there were also days when it was such a blessing to have a 2 year old that could walk on his own, obey commands, sit still in church, and feed himself (however messy that might be!)

In addition, while we see the bond growing stronger between the older two boys, we also see that our youngest is often left to hang out with Mom. In part, that is the way it is with the youngest. Not only is Noah completely dependent on me right now,  but he also can't play trucks or build legos like the other two. Not yet anyway.

Hence the discussion on spacing. Close in age with double the work? Or longer spacing with potentially harder transitions? Is there even such a thing has preferred spacing? Does it even matter?

So sorry

So sorry for my absence of blogging genius this week. 

Has another week gone by already? Is it really Friday? This week has been packed, start to finish. Jam packed day followed by maj dekcap yad.

Wait. Reverse that. I did have coffee this morning, yet I'm still not thinking straight.

As I was saying, it's been a busy busy week. I enjoy being busy and having my days full,  but I think we've eaten  too many bags of Cheerios in the car (i.e. been out the door and on the road before breakfast) and had too few family dinners together this week.

Doctor appointments. Immunizations. Ladies' Bible Study (times 2). FRG meetings. Taxes. Grocery trips. Baking treats. Schooling kids. Phone calls. Play dates. Emails. Story time. Orthodontist consultations.

*Yes, I did say orthodontist consult. Sigh. Let me just say that I hope you all had braces when you were children because getting braces as an adult is going to be twice as traumatizing, I'm sure. Can't wait to be the only Commander's wife with 3 children, who actually looks like the Commander's children's babysitter. And to add insult to injury, of course, braces for adults cost TWICE AS MUCH as they do for the young. Good Bye, Summer Vacation. You're being swapped out for a mouth full of metal...I think.*

That just about sums up the week. I'd bore you to mention that each trip out the door involves endless finding, zipping, wiping, and feeding all before we actually get in the car. I know it will not always be this much work, but I'll tell you, I had no idea that three little ones would be so busy. I even remember as a full time career woman single gal, saying "I wonder what that mother of three does all day?"

Cringe.

Despite the work, busyness, and fatigue, I keep having dreams about pregnancy tests and twins.

Not that that is any prediction for the future. Or that we're even trying. I'm just star crazy after a roller coaster week.

So sorry.