I could get used to this.

Okay, I'll admit it. I now LIKE posting photos. It was a big step for me. But, dang it, it's just such an easy way for me to chronicle the changes in our lives. And, it's fun too! I am now over the fear of exploiting my children. They're cute. 

We decided to make a family trip out to the house again tonight to see some of the changes. Steve, working out there all day from his camper, gets to see the change as it happens so, to him, it seems much less dramatic I am sure. To me? Whoa. I swear something major changes every day.

I really try not to get attached to "things" and I am trying to keep myself in check about whether my excitement is about the building process (which I love), the designing process (which I love), the decorating process (which I love), finally having the ability to host many, many people for holiday dinners and Sunday afternoon brunches (which I WOULD love) or whether it's about the house. I don't want it to  be about the house. I want my excitement to remain being about creating something wonderful and beautiful and exciting for my family....and one day? For someone else's family. So I will keep sharing the process with you all. I will just share it because it's....well, it's cool. Really cool. And really fun. 

The end.

Adorable Adoration?

This adorable photo, rather, will be the one used as the background for the invitation. Forgive me. I'm a liar. Apparently, our director wanted a cute shot of Roan that made him look....um....alive.

Sleeping Handsome.

This photo of Roan might be used for the background on the invitations for our Crossroads fundraiser dinner coming up. What do you think? 

Explanation Necessary.

I don't have a whole lot of time or energy this evening but I feel as though I just threw pictures at you without saying a word. "There!" was what was likely conveyed, right?

Not my intent. I promise. It has been such a strange and hectic past week and weekend. My mom was in the hospital with a very dangerous blood infection (she is doing SO much better now), I came down with strep throat on Thursday afternoon and finally started some antibiotics ( Thank God for those!) on Saturday and am now feeling like a rock star! Well...probably better than a rock star and a whole lot less hung-over.

The pictures were just some random photos that I have taken over the last few weeks. If it seems like there are a lot of boys in this family, well, yes, there are. And if it seems like all Roan does is sleep, well, yes, that's true too. But if it seems like that house is HUGE, well, no, not exactly. Yes, it is a good size (4300 sq ft.) but it is awfully deceiving with the two side garages. Yes, both sides are garages; one has only one door and will be more of a "shop" for Steve and the other will have two doors and will be where we park our cars. Okay, I just felt like I needed to clarify so that we didn't seem so ostentatious. I have felt so darn defensive and secretive about it. I hate that. I am going to stop that now. Right now. Really. I am. Here I go.

A very good friend of mine had her sweet baby boy today. Steve and I will be his Godparents and these good friends will be Roan's. We are having a joint baptism and have just been waiting for this little boy to finally make his debut! We are so glad he's here; Isaiah Bendedict. Just beautiful. This is a friend who, like me, and Jill , and Celeste, now has three boys and one girl. I had no idea having so many boys would make me so happy. Okay, I guess I don't really have SO many. I suppose I could have four. Or five. Or nine. I should just stop talking now.

Anyway, this good friend of mine who had this baby today? Yeah, I watched her three kids, her two boys and one girl, and my three boys and one girl. You did that math right? It was a fun, busy day with much organized chaos. I have not been this tired since I gave birth six weeks ago. I can't think of any way I would have rather spent my day though. When their dad called, we were at the park. The screams that came out of these beautiful children reacting to the news that their newest sibling had entered the world were tear jerking. And that? That was priceless.

 

Family happenings.

Oh, that I might have one hundredth the grace...

...of this beautiful woman. This article is long and well worth the read. Willing to endure the darkness and, in the end, being able to see His Light. 

Needs vs. Wants

I enjoyed a full day of Mommy/Roan time yesterday. Grandma took the three oldest for a play day and I headed off to another town an hour away to get all those pre-school clothing supplies  i.e. more uniform polos an khakis, socks for each child, new shoes and new underwear for each child. Fun times. Actually, I really enjoy those things; taking pride in the desire I have to take care of my children's needs, even those that are completely mundane in every way, just as much as Danielle.

While Roan and I were happily strolling in Target yesterday, beginning to miss the other three people who usually accompany us, I overheard this conversation in the toy section.

Nameless mommy: Rachel, Mommy said no. I am not going to buy that.

Rachel: But....I just want to have it!

Nameless mommy: Rachel? Rachel, remember what we talked about last night? About needs vs. wants and about money? Remember? Now, Rachel, what sorts of things do we need?

Rachel: Um.....money?

In Rachel's defense, I think she was a little confused. Sort of like this morning, when Paxton asked me to please read him the book about security. The really "good one". Security? We have a book about security? When did we get a book about security? Oh my gosh, if there's a book in this house that I have never seen before I darn well better find it to make sure it's okay! I was getting frustrated because I just didn't understand.  After much banter, I was finally able to interpret that he was talking about our new book. You know, the one about electricity. 

I didn't understand Paxton and he was being as clear as he possibly could. Children really are so simple, beautiful, innocent and inspiring aren't they? I wouldn't trade this life of piles of dirty laundry, poopy diapers and baths, skinned knees and spilled milk, and exhausted days' ends where I just fall into bed. I keep learning more and more. There is little glory involved in full-time motherhood. But a whole lot of redemption. Every day.

And I need that.

Potty Mouth.

My children have it sometimes. 

As we're loading Shepherd, Ella and Paxton up in the car for a day with Grandma and Grandpa:

Grandma: Okay, are we ready?

Paxton: Yeah. I have a little diarrhea. It doesn't work very well for me.

Me: Oh?

Paxton: Yeah, but that's why I turned the fan on.

Thank you, Pax. Thank you.

 

A few of my favorite things...

The windows are open. There is a cool breeze. It's overcast and probably going to rain. The children sleep. I sip coffee and say some prayers. As soon as everyone wakes up we are going on a long walk to pick up some flowers.

Today is my big brother's birthday. He would have been 30 today. Happy Birthday, Jarrod Harrison. The kids and I will be stopping by with some flowers in a few hours.

Long walks, cool breezes, birthdays, Fall and family....these are a few of my favorite things.

The Evangelizer.

That'd be my daughter.

Today I decided that it was high time for a long walk. A neighbor girl, about whom I know little more than her age and what house she lives in, was playing with Ella in our front yard. She is six years old and lives on the street behind us. She rides on her bike with her older sister and stops regularly if she sees us outside. I get the feeling that she is just craving attention and a playmate. Most of the time I'm not even sure if their mother knows where they are. Her name is Miranda.

Miranda has asked to come into our house many times but I always say, "Not until your mommy meets me". It just makes me uncomfortable to have someone else's child in my home if they don't know about it and to be quite honest, I get a little irritated as well. The poor thing just wants to play but I know that if one of my children is playing with a child I don't know, I am watching like a hawk. That makes more work for me. That makes nursing an infant and wrangling a tantruming toddler difficult and more stressful. I just don't want to do the work.

So....back to the walk. I decided that the baby was fed and changed, Shepherd was in good enough spirits and Ella and Mommy needed some girl talk. I decided we should walk. But there was this problem. Miranda was begging to go along as well instead of going home. I told her that we would walk her home and she could run into her house and ask her mom (secretly hoping her mom would peer out the window and feel comfortable to come out and meet me). She agreed and we walked to Miranda's house. She threw her bike in the front yard and ran inside. She came out within seconds. Her mom had said it was okay. Her mom was in her bedroom watching t.v. I never met her and here I was, about to take her daughter on an hour long walk. I was irritated. 

We began walking and the girls were talking, rather sweetly about bikes and who runs fastest; boys or girls. They talked about preschool and kindergarden, about who can read and who can't and about princesses. My irritation began to fade and I started to enjoy this new, sweet friendship I saw forming. But something was eating at me.... what kind of family does this girl come from? Why is her mother so absent? I always see her riding her bike without shoes. I thought I should start getting nosey. I began asking Miranda questions, benign at first but getting increasingly more personal as I went on. 

I learned these things: Miranda has two sisters, one 10 and the other 14. The 14 year old babysits a lot because their mom goes to work at 2 am in a town an hour away and she sleeps when she gets home. Her dad works in a town a half hour away and gets home at 2 am. If you hit someone hard enough to "make a mark" you could go to jail. She has her own room. Her big sister is mean. And the bigger sister is meaner. Sometime she get a time-out and other times she gets a spanking first and then a time-out.

As we were nearing the end of our walk, Miranda asked Ella if she liked the two girls that live next door to us, who Ella only talks to through the fence. Ella said, "Yeah!" Miranda replied, " Well, I don't. They don't like me, so I don't like them." My beautiful daughter turned and gently said, "But Jesus told us we should love everybody. That was what Jesus said." Miranda said, "Oh, I love Jesus!"

Here I was, being irritated with a six year old. A six year old who wanted to go on a walk with a family. A family that she could feel love from. People with whom she would be accepted. She could just be comfortable to be herself and relax. She could just be six.

I don't know what Miranda's home life is like but I do know this; I better start listening to Jesus. He placed His message for me right on my daughter's lips.

Sustenance.

I love this recipe so much I have made it twice in two days (I made a batch for a friend who just had a baby so we didn't eat them all ourselves). Imagine, delicious AND high in fiber, low in sugar, high in moisture and low in fat. Now I will concede, usually if something is good for me I will convince myself it's delicious as well even if, according to Steve, it tastes like cardboard. I swear, though, these babies are different. They really ARE delicious. Really. Try them. Hey, the kids love them too. 

I cook a lot but I don't think I have ever posted a recipe here before. I should start doing that more often. Food is just so much fun; experimenting with flavors, herbs, and spices. Wouldn't you agree?

In the first couple months after I have a baby I find myself doing a lot more baking. I don't enjoy baking nearly as much as I do cooking so I feel a bit stumped as to why I feel inclined to bake post-pardom. All I can figure is that it must be biological. Or colonial. It's much easier to feed a whole colony with baked goods than it is to feed them with a chanterelle, courgette and goat cheese sautee'.

Enjoy.

Not a pattern I'd like to maintain.

I am not digging this pattern I have set up of only blogging once every 3-7 days. Not at all. I'm going to work on that. Just as soon as my life slows down.

I have been feeling like Melissa. Just so much to say.....and then where does the time go? I never seem to make it over here to say it. I guess I've just been focused on other things and trying to catch up with things that go undone in my free time. This blog is one of them.

While my mom was here after Roan was born she asked me about blogs. She asked me why people have them. She explained that, while she LOVES reading mine (right, Mom?), she just doesn't understand why people would feel the need to write about what they made for dinner, what they grew in their garden, who they went to lunch with, or why they don't like certain child-rearing philosophies. She said that she would feel a bit arrogant or boastful to assume that someone would be that interested.

Well, maybe I am. But, and I told her this too, it's a way for me to connect. A way for others, like me, or maybe not so much like me, to share in my life, my joys, my sorrows, my fears, my faith, my family, my vocation. To share. To give advice and take it. To be supportive and for me to reciprocate. For me to connect.  So, when I feel "obligated" to blog, what's usually deeper is that I miss the connection. Even though it's online, it's a connection. Strange, I know, but valid nonetheless. Online friends and "in person" friends. They are friends. Put there by God so that we may grow and learn; so that we may give something of ourselves. Isn't that what friendship is?

When I read from so many others like me, doing what I'm doing, raising the kind of family I'm trying to raise, striving to have the kind of marriage I'm trying to have, to be the kind of wife and mother I am trying to be, I feel inspired. I feel encouraged. I feel motivated. I feel at ease about where I am and I feel connected.

When I write about my life here, I know that I am opening it up for others to offer me advice and support, to be supported,  to find the same connection I look for, and for my family and friends to catch up on my life and get a glimpse into our everyday world. I open my life up in this way because somedays it's the only way I can. 

"We need others physically, emotionally, and intellectually; we need them if we are to know anything, even ourselves."- C.S. Lewis

Until I can go back to "lunching" with friends once a week and having two hour long phone conversations, I'll stick to this way of obtaining connection. It's right at my fingertips. I still have prayer group meetings, dates with my husband and lunches with friends now and again. I just have a lot less of them. For now, it seems God wants me amongst diapers I can change, tears I can wipe, hands I can hold, and minds I can help mold. God wants me here, so that I can know myself. The self he wants me to be.  

Happiness is....

...waking up to your one month old smiling at you. 

It's gonna be a good day. I promise, we'll post some pictures soon-- well, as soon as the baby starts looking a little more like a baby and a little less like a turtle.

Prayers and lunch!

Women's Prayer Group is this morning. Roan and I will be heading out after I shower AND maybe even curl my hair! Then, we're off to "lunch" with a good friend! I must say, it's getting easier and easier to plan for being out and about. People really are right when they say that adding more children after your third is a "piece of cake". Relatively? It really is. God is so good to us. (Of course, it helps a teeny bit that Roan sleeps 7 hours and last night? He slept 8 hours!)

What more could a girl ask for?

A sure-fire way to get out of your own self-pity....

...is to bake some delicious blueberry scones for one equally exhausted but STILL PREGNANT friend.

Poor thing.

Five Things I Love About Jesus.

Thank you, Melissa, for the tag.  This is the best Meme yet!

The five things I love about Jesus:

1) His majesty. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. I never need to worry. He is bigger than all of it. Always. Forever.

2) His gentle way. We have this beautiful print in our hallway. I think it does more for me than for our children, for whom I placed it there. Every now and then it catches my eye and I always have the same thought; I am His child, too, and He loves me. I need to stop trying to be too big for my britches. He can be the  Good Shepherd and I can just be the sheep.

3)His forgiveness. There have been times throughout my life that I have felt cut off from Christ's graces, from His forgiveness and aid. All from my own doing, my own retreat. He is always there, always waiting for me, always willing to forgive me. 

4) His candor in the Gospel. Jesus spoke clearly. He did not try to put things "delicately" to make it easier on the palate. Some things really are black and white. There is a right and a wrong. I love Jesus for that. Like Fr. Corapi says, " If you're too open minded your brains will fall out." Jesus gave us clear instructions, Commandments, for True happiness, happiness in Him.

5) That He gave us His Mother. Hanging on the cross, just before death, He said to the disciple, whom He loved (aka US), "Behold, your mother!" and to His mother, "Behold, your son!". Thank you, Jesus. She is beautiful and has never left us when we fled to her for assistance. We do NOT "worship" Mary. We adore her. We ask for her intercession. Our Father asked us to. And we worship Him.

Now, I tag Christy. Happy contemplating!

Spoiled.

Wonderful friends, indeed. 

Sweet Carrie came today to bring me some much coveted nursing tops that are actually cute. Really cute. And a nursing dress that I can wear to Mass! Thank you, Carrie!

Delicious meal #9 was brought today by another prayer group mommy who is due any day now. For dinner; baby spinach, chopped celery, carrots, tomatoes, yellow pepper, cucumber and radishes, bacon bits, sunflower seeds, salsa ranch dressing and potato rolls. For dessert? Fresh blueberries for Mommy and chocolate chip cookies for Daddy and the kidlets.

Blessed indeed.

My comeback.

Okay, so it HAS been awhile. For that, I am sorry. Truly sorry. I have had the busiest two weeks of my entire life. Whoa. Here goes....

I have learned many, many things since my family size grew, overnight, from five to six. I have learned that: big babies are better eaters, sleepers and poopers than small babies, that God does in fact know what he's doing regarding the timing of their birth. 

That three adults and four children in 700 square feet can feel a teensy bit cramped. 

That regardless of the time, who's throwing a tantrum, or who needs to eat dinner, when it's time to nurse the baby it's time to just sit down and take the next 20 minutes to nurse that baby. 

That babies don't understand that we're "busy right now". 

That it's possible to have four children crying at the same time, all for entirely different reasons. That it's possible to console each one, in the order the complaint was received of course.

That you can buy 12 different kinds of Binky's and the baby still prefers to suck on the back of the 17 month old's chubby hand.

That when you surround yourself with wonderful, faith-filled women who value family, you get about 8 HUGE meals which you can freeze and use to feed your family for WEEKS!

That most of those meals will be chicken enchilada casseroles.

That the vacuuming and the laundry and the dishes and the cooking and the baking and the sweeping and the 22 "thank you" cards and the phone call returning and the dusting and the toy cleaning up and the paper reading and email responding must all be done during that time period that people are referring to when they say, "sleep when the baby sleeps". Um, okay.

That it is totally possible to go to Walmart AND get items that you are in need of with four kids. It might not be quiet. It might not be quick. But it IS possible. And it's possible to feel a certain amount of pride when people look at you strolling along, with your 17 month old strapped in the cart, your two week old in the Bjorn on your chest and the 3 and 5 year olds with "one hand on the cart at all times". Pride in your family and pride in your children. Each one of them.

That the recounting of an entire day can be summed up in one small sentence, the very first sentence in fact, that your toddler has learned to say; "I'm sorry, Ella." And, no, he still can't say Mommy.

That even though you're back into your size 8's, they don't quite fit the same way. In fact, they're a little more snug than they were pre-pregnancy. They must have shrunk.

That hand-me-downs are beautiful gifts from GOD.

That building a new house while also welcoming a new member to your family has the potential to make a 29 year old grown man giddy like a teenager. I don't know who has been more excited, Steve or the kids.

That grandparents, like hand-me-downs, are beautiful gifts from God. Invaluable in every way. That parenting is made so much easier with their help, their supplement.

That structure and routine are not only useful, they are necessary. They make one who is sinking able to swim. They make unruly and bored children entertained and enjoyable. They make a "surviving" family able to thrive. We do not have enough of these two things right now. We are working on it. We are getting there. But we don't have enough. One more week.

That cell phones die during the most critical moments in an important conversation and 3,000 ants can somehow find and survive on a single cheerio. Even if you use ant bait. Even if you spray them. Even if you sweep 17 times a day.

That each child still needs alone time with Mom and Dad every now and then. Even if they say they don't. Even if they say that they'd rather just play with their sister or brother. That giving a child a sibling is sweeter than giving them cotton candy.

That my marriage just got stronger. My family just got bigger. My life just got busier. That although our quaint little rental just got exponentially smaller, the room in my heart just expanded. We just became richer.

So, that, my friends, is what I have been up to, what I have been learning. I thank you for your love, your generous and regular comments and prayers and your support. I thank you, sweet Grandma and Noni for your help over these last few weeks. You mean more to us than you can ever know and we can only hope to be able to fully repay you one day. 

Check.

First time making it through Mass with four children. It was a beautiful thing.

(They ALL slept! AND we had Noni here. I have a feeling the real test is to come.)

God's Grace: Our Roan.

We did it. We did it! Seriously, we did it!

Thank you so much, prayer warrior friends, family, and all those we love. As most of you will recall, my faith in this whole process was seriously faltering. I was losing all trust. I kept asking God why he was making me PROVE that I trusted him. I began to lose hope, even being willing to go into the hospital on the night of the 11th and have a little prostaglandin "nudge" to get me started. 

God is good. He is just so dang good. The morning of my birthday started out lovely, with breakfast, cake and cards. My mom got here around 11 and was such a lifting presence. When she got here, she started playing with the kids and helping out right away. My spirits were still down at the thought of being a "dud" and the fact that I might not be able to do this myself.

I knew that if I was going to go into the hospital that evening for a little nudge, I should rest. After Shepherd went down for his nap I got Curious George for the kids ( and Noni) to watch. I totally let go, relaxed and rested. Labor began.

I couldn't believe I woke up from a little cat nap in true labor. I didn't really trust it, but the contractions were stronger and varied between 3 and 7 minutes apart, slowing down only when I did. I just couldn't believe it.

I called the hospital to tell them I was in labor on my own now and we took our time, loading up, preparing, showering and I did a lot of praying. Prayers of thanks, mostly, and few requests for help and trust.

When we arrived to check in, my midwife was there waiting for me. God really blessed us with her. I cannot believe what a strong bond I felt and continue to feel with her--after having delivered three out of four of my children. They put me on monitors and she checked me. I was dilated 4 cm and was prepared that this natural labor might take longer than I thought. After being on the monitors for 20 minutes, we were free to walk and labor.

We walked, slow danced, Steve whispered in my ear, we walked. Noni walked with us, trying to stay out of the way and be supportive, but all the while I could feel her prayers on me. I could feel her presence. Steve was such an amazing "coach"--calm, gentle, strong, and faithful. He never wavered.

We went back up to be on monitors and for them to check me again. I was at an 8! They called the midwife. She was already on her way. Divine? Absolutely. Straight from God? No doubt about it. He just wanted me to trust Him. All along.

Sherry (our midwife) broke my water. We knew things were going to get intense and go fast after that. I had prepared myself for it and started saying some of my labor meditations and prayers. Things DID get more intense. They did NOT go fast though.

Pretty quickly, it became apparent to Sherry and me that something was wrong. The baby was posterior. This was going to be a little rougher than we thought. Let's just say, I owe everyone in that room earplugs. While Sherry tried to hold my cervix out of the way I tried to push. The baby just wouldn't come down. I tried to sit up, sit forward, lay back, lay on my side and rock. Sherry asked me to get up and get on all fours. At that point, I would have stood on my head if she had asked me to.

I rocked and swayed and screamed on all fours for what felt like hours and seconds all at the same time. (I've heard it was more like 30 minutes). I rolled back over and felt the baby move into position and drop from his stuck position behind my pubic bone. It was beautiful. I FELT it. It was painful and exciting and scary. I asked God why He had forsaken me. I couldn't do this anymore. I am not that strong. Within about a minute, our beautiful son was in my arms. I DID it. 

Roan Harrison made his entrance with One. Big. Push. It was amazing. It was just amazing. Christ Centered, difficult, powerful, and amazing. I would do it again in a minute. Or, a couple years. 

Grandma and Grandpa brought Paxton, Ella and Shepherd to meet their new little brother. Seeing them running down the hall toward us brought tears to my eyes. They were so excited, bringing presents, kisses and laughter. Paxton still wants to name the baby James. Ella keeps wanting to refer to him as a "her". And Shepherd likes to stick his fingers in the baby's mouth and eyes and give him kisses and "pats". 

We are a family. We are blessed. We have God's Grace with us always. We have our Roan.

Eat your hearts out!

Roan Harrison Prentice was born 7/11/07 (on Mommy's birthday) at 10:00pm. 8 lbs, 6 oz, 20.5 in long.

Much more to come later!

Dud no more!

We're off to have a baby--I was going to be induced at 7pm tonight...but, God wouldn't have it. 

My mom arrived this morning to sing, bring presents and play with the kids on my birthday.  I couldn't be happier that THIS is the day God decided that a new one should enter the world. He did it for my mom 28 years ago. Now He's doing it for me. 

Thank you, God, for not giving up on me. Thank you, all of my beautiful prayer warrior friends. You have lifted me up like the eagle's wings and now I will prepare to stand in the radiant love of the Lord as he carries me the rest of the way.

Oh how ready we are!

Feeling better today. Still sad and a bit disappointed, but better. We'll see what the day has in store.

Title: Weakness.

Again....no title because blogger won't allow it. Nice. 

So, I am getting in the car in 20 minutes. I am driving to Seattle. The driving alone will kill 5.5 hours roughly. 5.5 hours where I don't have to bend over, pick anyone or anything up, and I can cry all I want. I can can just sit there, drive and cry while my children zone out on Milo and Otis. 

I contracted ALL day yesterday, convinced that we'd be making our "child care phone calls" by mid-evening. Uh, no. Nope. Didn't happen. Then I went to bed. Then I woke up. Still pregnant. Still uncomfortable as hell, with a foot permanently lodged underneath my right ribcage. Still on the verge of tears. Redemptive suffering for me, personally? Totally okay. Important now and then, really. Self denial. Growth. Redemptive suffering for my three children and poor husband who never signed up to ride this ridiculous roller coaster? Redemptive suffering for a 17 month old whose Mommy can't really even play with him except from a chair because she's so uncomfortable? Not fair. Not at all. Nothing THEY signed up for.

So, I changed my appointment. I knew I might need to buy myself more time. I was supposed to have a doctor appointment this morning. I moved it to Thursday. After I see my midwife (who is really more like an allopathically trained physician who routinely practices medical inductions and who has induced me twice now) I will likely be induced on Thursday. I will likely feel like a failure, like something is just wrong with my body that I cannot seem to just cook a healthy child in a decent amount of time and then spit them out on my own. I will likely feel like I don't want to tell anyone how I feel. I will feel disappointed. I will wonder if this is all part of my own personal torment and suffering. I might also feel so relieved to be done with all of this. So relieved to have some mobility, a reprieve from daily tears, joy, frustration, exhaustion and irritation, from self-pity, and feelings of just being sick and tired of being sick and tired. The novelty has officially worn off. I have prayed rosaries. I have walked. I have prayed. I have walked. I have asked two different prayer groups I am in to pray. I have stayed busy and active.  I have tried natural induction methods. I have tried to "just relax". I have tried to distract. I have really tried to maintain a really positive outlook and complained as minimally as I could (with everyone except Steve, of course. Sorry, Love.) asking for grace MULTIPLE times throughout the day. 

Sometimes, it's okay to just lay it on the table. Right?

I can't do it anymore. 

Just when you're about to give into self-pity...

the daily Gospel reflection and prayer reminds you to try to be a little more like sheep. 

No title because blogger won't allow it. Good times. 

Please tell me it's okay to cry. I am so uncomfortable and really starting to give in to despair. I swear, if one more person calls me to ask if I've "had that baby yet", I am going to lose all grace. It's quite amazing the people that come out of the woodwork, people you don't hear from in six months, to ask you when you're going to have that baby. Why?

Hi. Just me. Still here. Getting bigger and bigger and....

A little cheese, mushroom and olive pizza and some Peter Pan. This Friday family night? It's sure to be a good distraction.

Learning lessons.

We had such a wonderful day yesterday, filled with a slice from a cherry pie made to feed 3,000 people, walking around listening to live Christian entertainment in a nearby small town called George. George, Washington.

There was BBQ-ing, contracting, lots of water for everyone, lots of heat to go around, festivities, minor crankiness (never from Mommy, of course), napping, fireworks until quite late, and more contracting. I know Steve was nervous about how I'd hold up throughout the day. I think I impressed him. Right, Honey?

I forgot one very important detail. Our children? They went out to our property with Daddy early in the morning. They met with Vic, our excavator. They climbed up in the track-hoe with Vic. They OPERATED it "for" Vic. They LOVED it. So, between fireworks, at giant cherry pie, and operating a $200,000.00 piece of machinery, the fact that they STILL haven't gotten to meet their newest little brother or sister seemed immaterial to them.

See? In God's time, not mine.

Added to the list.

Now my precious 17 month old can also say "No way!", "hat", "balloon", and "Thank you!".

What's that you asked? Can he say "Mommy"? Um, yeah. No.

Again, if I were the sensitive type I might take this personally. Thank goodness I am always calm, cool, collected and very rational about these sorts of things. Yes, thank goodness. Now, if you'll pass me the tissue..

Dud.

When I was in labor with Shepherd and peetered out at about 4 cm, finally needing to have induction medication, I took on the label "Dud". I was really hoping to redeem myself with this baby.

I am a very miniscule 1 cm dilated and 75% effaced. Dud?

You decide.

And, no, I don't care at all that it's supposed to be ONE HUNDRED AND TWO DEGREES outside over the 4th and 5th. I am perfectly content still being pregnant. I'll just be naked. Indoors. Sipping lemonade.

God, please help me to bring this baby forth like you designed. And soon. I am so sorry that I made a mistake when praying to you earlier on in my pregnancy. I prayed for patience. I'd like to scratch that now. Instead, can I pray for strength and excitement and no fear and ......expedition? Oh, great! Thank you! I love you. I knew you'd be totally cool with me changing my request.

Just me.

Still here.

Stay tuned.

Nothing but upsides.

In a little over an hour we have the second official meeting of the Elizabeth Group we kicked off a month ago. I am so excited to see the people I've been praying for again and to welcome any new faces. God willing, this group will just grow in strength and love--resulting in even stronger families in faith.

Then, I'm off to the baby shower that's being thrown in my honor (well, more like in the honor of this precious little person inside me). All gifts are going to be donations to Crossroads (our local crisis pregnancy center where I have volunteered for four years). Is that not the coolest idea?! A fellow prayer group member, volunteer at Crossroads, pregnant lady, and very good friend had this idea. I am so grateful for it. I think she hit it right on the money. I can't wait to tear into all those gifts and see what some very lucky, needy, and all too nervous mommies are going to be receiving.

Hopefully, all this excitement will thoroughly wear me out and I will sleep tonight. And then the baby will come out. Or not. We'll see. I'm cool with whatever. Really. I am. Hey, now the baby will surely have a July birthday just like me! Now that's worth waiting for.

iHuh.

I really want the new iPhone. I really do. Just to see what all the hype is about. If only I could figure out any of the buttons on my current, very simple phone. I am clearly not in Generation X or Generation Y.

Maybe more like Generation LY.

Nicole: The Putterer.

That's me. I am officially a "putterer".

How much longer can this continue?! Am I in labor or am I not? Day four and counting.

If only the feminists' angles were....

this:

"To a great extent the level of any civilization is the level of its womanhood. When a man loves a woman, he has to become worthy of her. The higher her virtue, the more her character, the more devoted she is to truth, justice, goodness, the more a man has to aspire to be worthy of her. The history of civilization could actually be written in terms of the level of its women." ~Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen

Whoa. Imagine the powerful marriages our culture would have!

Time?

We've poured foundation. We're pouring stem walls. We have power, a honey bucket, a trailer and wireless so Steve can start working from our property--instead of the little office space he's been renting downtown. We signed papers to close on our loan this morning.

Good thing the baby hasn't come just yet because, frankly? We just have no time to labor right now. Maybe tomorrow.

I'm still here.

I just thought I'd update in case anyone was starting to wonder if I had dropped 13 pounds or so in the last couple of days. I haven't. Not yet, anyway.

I had pro-dromal contractions almost all night last night, waking up only for the duration of the "cramp" and then going back to sleep. I must say, as crazy as it sounds, it was very cool. I really visualized what my uterus was doing, with each wave--the work that it was doing. I am really excited about labor. Prayers have been answered. Mine and others. I can really honestly say, I am not afraid. Only excitement fills me now. I know it will be a lot of work and intense, but I am not afraid of it.

I have had some indicators that labor is close but, as my husband asks, aren't most of them pretty correlational? For the most part, yes. But, I'll take em' anyway.

We are keeping busy, researching and buying a used second family car, excavating land, walking, going to swimming lessons, walking, cleaning, walking, reading, walking, and visiting friends and walking.

In other news, I seem to be finding myself making vats of chicken noodle soup and chicken enchiladas. It just seems the thing to do on this HOT summer day.

Happy 29th Birthday To My Sweet, Beautiful Husband.

I love you.

We are breaking ground today. We are having our land blessed at noon. We are blessed with three amazing children. We are about to welcome another member to our family any day. Our parents cheer us on and support us, our children see us as heroes, and our friends enrich us. Our faith sustains us. All of these make us grow. I am happy to grow right alongside you, Love. Every step of the way.


So appropriate is today's Gospel reading. Matthew 6:19-23:

..."For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be."

You might be tempted to think yourself insignificant in the life of your seventeen month old.

Don't.

So what if he can say "Bye Bye!", "Daddy!", "Doggy!", "Kitty!", "Hi", "Balloon!", "Dora", and "Night Night" but he can't say "Mommy"? It's No. Big. Deal.

He's not completely broken. At least he can 'high five' you. And in this house? That's a milestone.

How to know when you're nesting.

1) There doesn't seem to be enough bleach in the world.

2) You have been baking. Lots. To fill up the freezer. For when people come to see the baby.

3) When you're at the store you buy baby nail clippers. You have three children already, one of whom still requires baby nail clippers. But you buy new ones anyway. Because new babies need new baby nail clippers. All to themselves.

Bleach, nail clippers, and baked goods. One can just never be too prepared.

What could be more fun...

...than a freshly tilled dirt pile to play in every week at Grandma and Grandpa's house?

A dump truck dropping off ten more yards. Just for your playing pleasure.

This just in.

This came today in an update that I recieved from the American Life League:

Last week, Planned Parenthood quietly issued its latest annual report. As always, the report was packed with lies about its “mission” to provide “quality health care” to women.

The one big truth in the 20-page report is that it got a total of $305,300,000 in free tax-funding last year. That’s a whopping 11.95% increase over the $272,700,000 it got the year before.

Let’s put that $305,300,000 in two equally important perspectives:

Perspective #1: Last year, Planned Parenthood surgically aborted over 264,943 preborn babies. As a ratio to the funds it gets on the government dole, that’s $1,152 for each baby torn apart in the womb!

Perspective #2: During the same year, the top five national pro-life organizations continued to receive exactly ZERO dollars in government funding. In the first six months of 2007, our own contributions are $160,000 behind the same point last year. And we’re the number one enemy of Planned Parenthood!

Dear Lord, thank you for the beautiful life in my womb and thank you for the work of these pro-life organizations who operate without pay, government tax dollars, or recognition for the MILLIONS of lives they save. Please continue to bless them and their efforts until Roe v. Wade is finally overturned.

How can this be?

Am I really old enough now that my baby brother has graduated high school? That he's almost 18? That he might no longer need the advice of his older sister? Never. I refuse to give up the advice giving. He might not need me for much more than that but I am sure, the advice will always be welcomed. Right, Kellen? Always.

Paxton and I drove over yesterday and watched as my little brother (all 6'3 of him) walked down the aisle, picked up his diploma, and moved his tassle to the left. Another ending. And another beginning. We sat next to my mom, noticing the tears streaming down her face every now and then. I am sure it's the strangest combination of happiness, relief, pride, and sadness that's occuring. It's an ending and beginning. It's exciting and it's scary. It's taken forever to get him here and it's flown by, almost overnight.

Being a parent is probably the most profound thing to ever happen to someone. It makes us grow, it tests our resolve, it strengthens us, weakens us, transforms us. Most of us will never make it out unscathed. The upside? God gave us each and every child for a reason. Gave US. You and me. These children. A reason. He wouldn't have given them to us if He weren't also planning to equip us with the graces necessary to do our jobs. As Danielle Bean says in her book, "God doesn't call the equipped, He equips the called." We just have to keep listening and heeding the call.

As an aside, does anyone have ANY idea when they started having more than one valedictorian? LIke, say, oh I don't know, EIGHT? No kidding. My brother graduated from a fairly large high school in a bigger city. Does that warrent more than one valedictorian? Um....I'm thinking "NO". Is it a sign of the times? Are we just beginning to celebrate mediocrity? Isn't the valedictorian supposed to be that one stellar student that excelled in every area, not only academically but socially, emotionally, intellectually? That one student that goes above and beyond in every area ALL the time? Isn't that like having four or five mvp's in a game? That was just a head scratcher for me. Steve and I had already decided that we were homeschooling after the 6th grade, but that really drove the decision home for us. For the most part, we're a society that seems to be raising children and therefore adults, who believe they are special just because...well, just because. That, my friends, does not breed humility, motivation, charity, mercy, generosity or Christ's love for neighbor.

And aren't those virtues the ones which we most want our children to embody?

Emotional? Hormonal? Me? Nah.

I can admit it. I'm sensitive.

My ability to filter information with any degree of accuracy or rationality might be compromised. I am weepy. I cry when I think of how blessed my marriage is and what a great team we are and five minutes later I cry, convinced that I am going to have to call in reinforcements when this fourth baby comes because our lives are entirely too overwhelming. I feel defensive when someone says I'm not big enough to be nine months pregnant and I feel like slapping someone when they say how big I am. Or when they guess that I'm carrying a boy/ girl because I'm carrying low/high or because my hips look wider/the same . I have heard it all, really. Like my midwife says, "It's amazing the things that people think they can or should say to pregnant people, as if by being pregnant it means one no longer has any feelings at all."

I cannot filter any longer. I am ready to stay in seclusion. Ready to hide for the next three plus weeks.

Okay, Nicole, snap out of it. Whine session over.

I have read the "Bradley Method", "Christ Centered Childbirth", "Spiritual Midwifery", and "The Bradley Method" again. I have note cards with scripture passages on them, juice boxes ready to be chilled and another pregnancy massage schedule for next week. I finally packed "the bag" last night and came to terms with the fact that, even though it won't, labor could begin any day now and with three small children, I can't really just leave it all to the last minute. For Steve's sake and mine.

I got some great advice from a friend of mine who has labored, at home, naturally, for hours, three times now. Are you ready? Here it is: "Stop thinking so much". In deciding that I am going to go "naturally" this time, I have developed this horrible habit about thinking all the time. Can I do it? Will people think I'm ridiculous? Will I be nice to those I love? Will I be a whiner? What if Steve doesn't pick up on that serious emotional signpost as I'm approaching transition and then we don't make it to the hospital and then I have the baby in the back of the van and then my memories of natural childbirth will involve blood-stained leather and awkwardly gawking pedestrians? See? It's just way too much thinking. I am going to stop now.

There. That feels better.

Realizing that I haven't blogged in about 11 days, I am feeling the need to talk about the Elizabeth Group that I kicked off two weekends ago and the beginning NFP training session that Steve and I went through. I say "Elizabeth Group" instead of Elizabeth Ministry because I just didn't like how limiting the Ministry was, only really being something for mothers who are childbearing. I really wanted something for all mothers of young children, a prayer group, a bible study. Our parish has SO many young families and we all need to be connecting and praying for and with each other. I am SO excited about it and our first meeting went off without a hitch! We'll meet the last Saturday of every month, praying for each other every day until then, when we'll have new prayer intentions. I wish I could convince every woman in my life to join a women's prayer group. It is just so wonderful to have the emotional support, fellowship, bonding and healing that is so important for women to have. We are not whiners (with the exception of me, see: earlier in this post). We are not husband-bashers. We are not gossipers. We are sisters. We are optimists. We are faithful. We are Hearts of our Homes.

The NFP training was great, too. After reading Christopher West's book, "The Good News about Sex and Marriage" over three years ago, I could not go on living in the bubble that I had. I could not pretend that it didn't matter any longer. Once you know and have heard the Truth, you can't "un-know" it. It's right there, in the biggest book of all. It's the difference between asking God to enter into your marriage at ALL times and telling him, "No thanks. You're not invited in here right now." NFP isn't natural contraception. Because it isn't contraception at all. At no time are you telling God that He's not welcome. Oh....I could talk about this for hours! I'll shelf it for now though. Suffice it to say, it'll definitely be more work to be keeping track, charting, and...GOD FORBID.....talking. To be communicating about our marriage, our humanity, our fertility and our family. On a regular basis. To be in it together. Truly together. An interesting tidbit? To paraphrase, "while there is little difference in the divorce rate between couples who say they are Catholic and couples who aren't, the divorce rate amongst couples who soley practice NFP is virtually non-existent." How about that.


Do you feel caught up with me yet?

What does one say?

Me: Working out at Curves this morning, minding my own business.

Woman next to me on a machine: So....you don't work, right?

Me: Um....at home, all day. I have children.


I either sounded like the biggest village idiot that ever came around the pike or I sounded like the most judgmental shrew for insinuating that I work HARDER because I stay home. Will this ever get easier?

Last Days.

This morning, we got up and made airplane and helicopter pancakes for our 5 year old and talked about big things to come. Today is Paxton's last day of 4 year old preschool. He will officially be a "kindergardener" at the end of the day. Can he be old enough? Can Steve and I be old enough?! This morning felt like the end of an era.

Yesterday, the Kindergarden teacher invited all the parents to come sit in on a regular class session during the morning period and then to come back with our future kindergardeners for about an hour and half in the afternoon for a meet and greet with their new teacher. I took advantage of both and was so grateful I was able to. I watched how she interacted with those sweet, almost 1st graders. How she commanded their attention without yelling, threatening, or demeaning. I watched as they read aloud to her, as they wrote STORY PROBLEMS for their math equations and as they helped each other. I watched as they began their Read Well program, sitting on the floor. Then, outside, a siren could be heard. Immediately, they put their books down and began making the sign of the cross. They waited for the teacher to begin her prayer for anyone who may be injured. She concluded her prayer and they resumed with their lesson. These kids knew that that's what we do. They began before the teacher. Can I ask you how cool that is? How cool is it to have your children be educated in an environment where the teacher gets to utter the phrase "In Jesus' name" and not have to worry about prosecution?

We are so blessed to have what we have in this parish and this parish school.

Ella gets to spend the weekend with my mom, having some one on one quality "Noni time" and we get to play around here with the boys--who are looking more and more alike every day and making me realize just what a family we have become. Paxton helps buckle the baby into his seat, Ella watches out for him when they're in the front yard. Paxton helped Ella put her shoes on yesterday and when Ella locked herself in the bathroom on accident it was Paxton who began to look very worried and started to cry a little. When Shepherd heard Ella banging on the door and crying, he started crying. Can you guess who wanted to cry then?

Families who cry together stay together. We are a family. We talk. We laugh. We sing. We cry. We play. We grow.

I have a feeling that when I go pick Paxton up I might cry. On this, his last day, it feels like a beginning. Beginnings are beautiful things. And so, sometimes, are endings.

Holy articulation, Batman!

Ella: Mom, do you want a bite of my sandwich?

Me: No thanks, honey.

Ella: But, mom, it's wonderfully delicious!



I have a feeling that 3 year old preschool is going to seem wonderfully unchallenging.

Gratitude.

I could tell how many people were praying for me this weekend. I thank you and them. It was completely evident that I was not alone.

The retreat was amazing, just the right balance of structured time and "homework" and time to just be. Time to just reflect and pray and let the Holy Spirit use me, breath for me, speak to me. It's amazing the calmness and peace you can feel when you take away external distractions. It's amazing where you see God. Where you feel His majesty and undying love. I am not worthy.

I also realized just how much women need other women, specifically mothers. We are so hard on ourselves. We doubt ourselves. We can isolate ourselves and punish ourselves. We can live in fear and torment. We can get so fixated on what others might think of our motherhood that we forget that it's God whom we are doing this for. It is He who will strengthen us, comfort us.

John 15:11
I have spoken these things to you so that my joy might be in you and your joy might be complete.

Labor has been on my mind a lot latey. (With just over 5 weeks to go, how could it not?!) I decided about four months ago that I was going to offer my pain to God, as redemptive suffering. There are a few people in my life who live with pain all the time. They suffer a cross that is heavier than I would want to bear. Having had three inductions, and three epidurals, I have yet to endure the entirety of labor pain. I want it to be different this time. I want to trust God's timing. He has a birthday for this baby. He has a plan. Three times in a row now I haven't been willing and/or able to stick it out and trust His plan in the timing or in the ability to survive the pain.

II Timothy 1:7
For God did not give us the spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self control.

John 14:27
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

His peace is much different than the peace given by worldly things. We may not be able to overcome the fear of birth, but God is perfect and it is His perfect love that can cast out fear for us. We have to let Him take it from us when we are unable. Fear is from Satan who wants to torment us. (Christ Centered Childbirth).

1 John 4:18
There is no fear in love. But perfect love casts out all fear because fear has to do with torment.

I am reading "Christ Centered Childbirth" and "The Bradley Method". I have been laughed at and questioned. "What's the big deal?", "You're crazy", "Why would you do that to yourself?" have all been comments I have received. I do not feel judged. I feel sad for these women. I feel how much they are not understanding my purpose. I do not believe pain relief medications are inherently evil. I have three beautiful children to prove that. I do not believe that people who seek relief are weak. I do not believe that it makes you "less of a woman or mother" if you get an epidural. I do not believe that it means you are lacking in faith.

I do believe that I, personally, can offer this pain up and pull Christ into it with me. I do believe that I have been fearfully and wonderfully made and what a better opportunity for me to prove to God just how much I love and trust Him. I do believe that I can use this as a prayer of supplication for me, for my family, for my children, for those I love who have to endure pain on a regular basis. And even, dare I say, a prayer of gratitude. Gratitude for a body that allows me to bring forth life. That allows me to carry a baby. Because there are so many women who cry themselves to sleep at night because they can't.

Because of original sin, childbirth is supposed to be painful. Because of Jesus' love we are supposed to seek His grace and comfort.

Retreat.

Literally.

I am retreating. I am heading up this weekend to what is sure to be the most peaceful and calming retreat. We have a Marian theme this year and I will be surrounded by friends in faith--the best kind.

I am so grateful to have the blogger friends that I do, the kind who give support and encouragement all the while inspiring me to look deeper and to see farther down the road. I am grateful for family and extended family who understand my vocation and make me feel appreciated. I am grateful for my children who make me laugh deeper, make me cry harder, and make my life immeasurably richer than it ever could have been otherwise.

I am grateful for my huband. I am grateful for his unwavering strength, calmness, and gentle love. I cannot imagine what I would do if I were gone all day, working, and then came home to a wife who just seemed to fall into a puddle of either tears or anger. I cannot imagine myself being so gentle and compassionate in the face of personal weakness. God truly blessed me with Steve. He really did.

I'll check in after I get back and, until then, know that I am thanking all of your for your support and love.

The grass is always greener at the cemetary.

Today was exhausting, without glory or gratification. It was an everything-seems-to-be-going-wrong kind of day. Nothing measurable or tangible. Little things, really.

Regardless, I found myself sitting out on our front lawn, at 5pm, crying. Just crying. Life just felt like too much. My sweet Paxton and Ella were oblivious to my crying as they happily played in the grass. Or so I thought. Ella came up to me and, as I tried quickly to wipe my tears said, "Mommy? Why do you have raindrops on your face?" I didn't answer. Out came more tears. Paxton said, " Oh Mommy, don't cry, we won't run away." Oh, the sweetness and innocence.

Shepherd is at a very difficult age for me right now. An age that I remember strongly disliking with both Paxton and Ella. An age where one must repeat "no" --repeat everything in fact, multiple times. An age where there is a communication breakdown, an utter disregard and misunderstanding of authority. An age where the idea of sharing is as foreign as multiplication or taxes.

So, I just cried.

And then? Then I found myself on a long drive after Steve got home from work. A long, quiet drive. For two hours. I decided that I was hungry. I bought some california rolls and headed to a place where I knew it would be quiet, no one would bother me or ask me questions or directions. A place where no one would speak. The cemetary. It was beautiful. And quiet.

After enjoying my solitude and self-pity it was time to go. I did not realize it was time to go until I had this thought after looking around at all the headstones: "Oh *sigh*, they all have it SO easy."

Yeah, time to go.

I called my mom to get some comic relief and tell her my pitiful thought. Her reply was eloquent, beautiful, understanding,and gentle. It went something like this:

"Oh, Honey! Get the hell out of the cemetary!"

Pool party.

This post is a little overdue. Mother's Day was amazing, complete with lemon curd crepes and fresh strawberries in bed in the morning, Mass and babies baptisms, a lovely afternoon backyard brunch with friends, visits with Grandma Great and Grandma, and a quiet backyard dinner with barbequed lobster, prawns and steamed asaparagus. I am so blessed. My husband is amazing and I know how lucky I am that he really tried so hard to make the day relaxing and special--all for me. Thank you, love. The kids were so good and I really felt just how lucky and blessed we are, that God gave us to each other. It was probably the best Mother's Day yet.

The Mother/Daughter Tea was a hit as well. Steve got home at midnight on Friday, got up early the next morning and helped (okay did it FOR me) to find all my china, servingware, and glassware for the table from our huge storage unit. It was so much fun to go up to the gym and see all of these tables, each carefully decorated with each hostesses personal style. One was Betty Boop themed, another western themed, complete with bandanas for napkins and cowboy boots for teacups, and another was decorated with ALL lace. My mom said that she could have picked mine out without even recognizing my china. I'm a calalilly, tulip, and lots of white sort of girl. Clean, simple, pretty. Or so I think. Everyone was dressed up. At one table, all the ladies and girls had big, fun hats on! I loved that idea. It was so nice to have my mom there, sitting next to me and Miss Ella. Some great friends and their little girls came. There was even entertainment for us. A Barbershop Quartet, clogging 3 and 4 year olds (who were rather scantily clad and overly made-up. Don't get me started), and even drawings and prizes. I had heard about, but never been to one of these "Teas". I will definitely be hosting again next year.

I know I keep saying it, but I am starting to feel a lot more tired. Wah. I know. I'm sorry. The good news is that there are lots of things I can do about it and I have been--including going on longer walks, trying to carve out rest time during the day, and letting myself just relax more when I can. In fact, I have what's sure to be a very restful, prayerful retreat coming up this weekend that I am SO looking forward to. It's about three hours north of here, almost to the Canadian border. The drive alone will be so nice to just meditate and say a few rosaries for specific intentions.

Today we are heading to some friends house for a "pool party". You know, the kind of pool that's about 5 feet in diameter, heavy plastic and has fish stickers on the bottom? It'll be so nice to let the kids splash around and even nice to just let us pregnant mommies rest,  talk and swell up in this 90 degree heat. We will snack on cold, crisp cucumber slices, grapes and sip lemonade. We will slather on sunscreen and discuss luxuries of the past. Belts. Pants with zippers. Red wine. Sleep. Our ankles.

Mother/ Daughter Tea.

I am trying to gear up for the Mother/Daughter Tea tomorrow. I am hosting a table and three girlfriends, their young daughters, my daughter and my mom will be there. I am so excited about being able to do it this year, having my own little girl to take.

The part I am NOT excited about? Going to our storage unit bright and early in the morning with Steve, who gets home tonight about midnight, and rummaging through trying to find my china, my linens, my glassware, and my flatware. Um, I think I know where they *might* be. If I can't find them in time to head up to the school gym and set the table? Well, I suppose disposable can feel just as special. Um, NOT.

I didn't really anticipate needing my china until we were at least in our new house. How wrong I was. I better just bring it back home after the Tea tomorrow. After all, Steve's birthday is coming up in June and we'll be having another baby in early July. Both will require some china, right? Er....maybe just beer. Yeah. Nothing says "Happy Birthday" or "Welcome home, New Baby!" like beer.

I am tired. This might be a longer 7 weeks than I expected. Is it possible that they could have my due date wrong? By, say, a MONTH?

Pink Popcorn.

We're back!

We (Paxton and Ella and I) got back last night and were soon thereafter greeted by Grandma and Grandpa delivering baby Shepherd. Um, he grew. He was HUGE! We missed him so much and it was so sweet to see how excited he was to be around his big brother and sister again.

It was sad to leave Daddy in San Diego and even sadder to come home to the empty refridgerator that would need to be filled and the mountain of dirty clothes that would need to be laundered. But trudge on we did. I picked up the dog, washed the clothes, got Paxton to preschool and back, had photos developed for the kids, and returned phone calls and emails. 41 to be exact. Man, we're popular people when we're unavailable!

We had an amazing time. Arguably one of the best family vacations yet. We went to SeaWorld, Legoland, Coronado, the Beach, The Mission Basilica, ate wonderful sushi (even the kids), swam in the pool, and laughed a lot. We drank water, applied sunscreen, and then drank more water. I walked slowly. Very slowly. Much like a sumo wrestler or a three toed sloth. That, my friends, must be a combination of late pregnancy and heat. It reminded me of all the Bahamians we met on our honeymoon in Nassau. They, too, walked very slowly. They were dressed up, looking wonderful and professional, and walking VERY SLOWLY. I am assuming there could be a potential chafing issue if one is not careful in hot weather like that. I think someone said that San Diego was having some kind of heat wave. It was awesome. Beautiful. And hot.

Any parent knows that no family vacation is complete without someone vomiting. This time? The lucky girl? That'd be Ella. She was vomiting throughout one night and one day and fought a fever so high ( we didn't have a thermometer to tell us just how high) that she started hallucinating. She was completely confused, hot, and laughing about pink popcorn. Pink popcorn. It was 2 a.m, and our 3 year old was naked, jumping up and down on the bed, reaching for pink popcorn.

After one final episode of vomiting, at the Basilica very near a beautiful life-size statue of the Pieta no less, she recovered beautifully. She was required to follow our strict guidelines for the remainder of the trip. Hat. Sunscreen. Purchased insulated toddler cup from Target. Gatorade and water. Lots of it. Little walking. Ella and I were a pair. Me, waddling through legoland, and her, sucking down grape gatorade like it was going out of style. Both of us peeing about every ten minutes for two very different reasons. The boys had a great time on rollercoasters and Miss Ella and I had some great talks. Afterall, what can two people do who are either too short or too pregnant to enjoy most of the fun rides? We did have a great time though. We reallly did.

It's good to be home. There really is no place like it. Although, maybe I'm calling it home too quickly. Upon entering every elevator on our trip, Ella needed to say to anyone who was already on or about to get on, " Hi. I'm Ella. I'm three." To which they would usually reply, " Hi, Ella."

But one lovely woman said, "Hi, Ella! You're three? That's cool! Where do you live, Ella?"

Ella: Um....in a rental.

Down by the river?

San Diego or bust!

We're off to San Diego this morning. Bags have been packed, camera is charged, backpacks are sufficiently overloaded with activity books, kindergarten workbooks (Thank you, Grandma) and Sesame Street Uno cards (Thank you, Noni), and a doctor's note and prenatal records for Mommy. Apparently, 8 month pregnant women make airlines nervous. I should just tell the lady at the ticket counter, "Look, my huband says he refuses to EVER have a baby in California. So, let's not worry". Somehow, I don't think she'll be comforted.

Seaworld, Legoland, the Zoo, Pacific Beach, The Mission and SOME GREAT SUSHI! await us. Oh, and a maternity swimsuit. That'll be fun. What you wear in San Diego stays in San Diego.

Steve will be staying down an extra four days for a conference for work. The poor guy is going to have to suck it up, enjoy all that sunshine, those great restaurants AND "sleep in". He'll be in my prayers. It's gonna be rough.

Thank you, Grandma for keeping, entertaining, and loving on baby Shepherd. He will no doubt have MUCH more fun with you than he would being dragged to and fro, skipping naps and riding in rented strollers. Five days on 'the farm' with slides, tractors, and kitties is just what the doctor ordered for this 16 month old!

This little vacation is long overdue for this family! We'll check in after we're home.

How can there possibly be a reward big enough?

I was on the phone in our bedroom. I heard lots of silence. I walked out to find the boys playing cooperatively on the floor (which is really saying something that a five year old and a sixteen month old are playing together at all!). I walked further, into the kitchen. And there, right before my eyes, was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen: Ella. UNLOADING THE DISHWASHER. Seriously. I don't know what came over my precious three year old daughter but, whatever it was, I can only pray it never stops coming over her.

Let's just say, that girl? She scored some major stickers. Big stickers. With kitties on them. She can wear them while she eats the chocolate I got her for dinner and while she rides the pony I am going to pick up for her tonight.

St. Joseph and his beautiful wife.

Today is the feast day of St. Joseph the Worker, my husband's chosen confirmation name and his patron saint, my step-father's name, and the patron saint of fathers everywhere.

"He is that just man, that wise and loyal servant, whom you placed at the head of your family. With a husband's love he cherished Mary, the virgin Mother of God. With fatherly care he watched over Jesus Christ your son, conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit."

Today is also May Day, May 1st, the Crowning of Mary. May is Mary's month and that of mothers everywhere. Taken from the Magnificat - " The Blessed Virgin comes to generate in us the union that she experiences with the Son in her womb. Only this puts to flight all our crippling individualism and insularity. In Mary's face, in her voice, in her gaze we find what we have been lookng for amidst all the trying and frustrating moments of our life."

Afterall, it is through Our Mother that we have the Greatest Gift of all; Christ the Healer, the Good Shepherd, the Peacemaker.

Marian adoration and devotion are of great comfort to me these days. I feel so blessed to be able to call her Mother and to flee to Her for help when I am at my wits end, when I feel like I have no more love or patience to give at the end of the day, when all I want to do is whine about my aching back or my ever-swelling cumbersome belly. The Mother of all mothers.

John 19:26-27

When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, "Dear woman, here is your son," and to the disciple, "Here is your mother." From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.

Vocabulary.

After Michelle's AWESOME post, with which I couldn't agree more, I had to share:

Me: Ella, you can wear these shoes if you'd like.

Ella: I love these ones! I just wore them yesterlater!

Huh? Looks like Daddy and I have more work to do.

Minor Adujstments.

Okay, I'm back. I have missed you all! Have you noticed my absence? Steve even asked me the other day if, in fact, I still had a blog.

So here it is. We are officially and completely into our *cute* rental. I say cute because it's quaint, charming, quirky, and utterly too small. So, it seems that *cute* is a suitable word.

So far, we have learned some things since having lived here over a week now:

1) It is altogether possible to wash your hands in the sink, sit on the toilet AND wash your feet in the bathtub all at the same time.

2) In order that the toilet may flush all the way, one simply has to hold the handle down for a count of 4. 1...2...3....4. Not 3. Not 5. 3 is not long enough. 5 is too long. 4 guarantees a perfect flush almost every time.

3) Living in town is louder. One may hear two trains, mating cats, barking dogs, sirens, cars backfiring and church bells ringing all in a matter of one hour; specifically, the hour between 3am and 4am.

4) It is not possible to fit our entire family in our kitchen at the same time. Seriously. I mean, I guess it's possible, but certainly not productive or comfortable in any way. With about 4ft x 5ft in which to work, I have become adept at washing the dishes, putting them away, answering the phone, and doing some light sweeping all in one full rotation. If you want to know where I keep my cutting boards, they're under the sink near the cleaning supplies. And where do I keep my pots and pans? Well..some under the stove of course but, yes, I do use that all-too-convenient space IN the stove as well.

5) You always have an audience. With neighbors just over 10 feet to our left and our right and a porch-sitting chain smoker across the street, we never get lonely. NEVER.

6) If you go to plug in a lamp and sparks fly out of the socket, don't panic. Don't continue to try to plug in the lamp either.

7) Smoke alarms placed RIGHT above the stove are a bad idea. Whoever came up with this particular *safety* precaution should be fired. In the name of sleeping toddlers and pregnant mothers who cook multiple times a day, this person should be shot. This house is 700 square feet on each level. There are about NINE smoke alarms.

8) One does not necessarily NEED faucet handles on the outdoor water spickets. Those are for high maintenence sorts of people. No, all one really needs is a metal stump and a wrench. And here I was, always thinking we needed handles.

9) If, before you move into a new place, there has been a *cute* spider's nest full of tiny baby spiders about to hatch, placed by some loving mother spider right at the bottom of the stairs, those babies WILL indeed find their way to the top of the stairs and out the back door. Don't worry. They will. It might just take a week or so. Just be willing to THANK GOD EVERY DAY that they are so tiny.

10) Children are happy in dirt. They love getting to count when they flush, the closeness of the colorful neighbors, the funny spiders going out the door, the *cute* kitchen (which spells very easy access to the fridge any time of day or night), and the sounds of town living. They don't care about sparks, or small bathrooms, or faucet handles. They are happy and content to be wherever our family is. And so am I.

Steve and I moved on Saturday and Sunday, laid sod in the entire backyard on Monday, moved more and cleaned more on Tuesday and Wednesday, had visits from Noni, Popi, some family friends, and Grandma, signed closing papers last night, and Steve just moved into his new office downtown (aka about three blocks away right on the main strip of town) this morning.

Tonight is Friday Night Family Movie and Pizza Night. I couldn't be more thrilled. Wizard of Oz, Mary Poppins and a little cheese and olive pizza are in our near future. This family is blessed beyond words and constantly given things to make us laugh and to make us grow stronger. We just have to remember that last part. Trials which are meant to strengthen us.

God bless and keep you all as well.

Remind me...

why I don't let my children play with empty boxes more often again?

This might be the cheapest entertainment known to man.

I know, I know.

It's been far too long since I've made a decent blog entry. It's only going to get worse.

We are MOVING! Yay. So...this means that I might be out of commission for the next week or more. When I come back, I am sure I'll have lots of stories to share about the five of us, our big dog, my midsized pregnant belly, our little rental and the inevitable humor that will have to accompany us.

Many blessings to you, friends!

Jesus Christ is risen today.

Hallelujah.

Today, we wait.

Luke 24:1-12
But at daybreak on the first day of the week they took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb; but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were puzzling over this, behold, two men in dazzling garments appeared to them. They were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground. They said to them, "Why do you seek the living one among the dead? He is not here, but he has been raised. Remember what he said to you while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners and be crucified, and rise on the third day." And they remembered his words. Then they returned from the tomb and announced all these things to the eleven and to all the others. The women were Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James; the others who accompanied them also told this to the apostles, but their story seemed like nonsense and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb, bent down, and saw the burial cloths alone; then he went home amazed at what had happened.



We wait in silence, or as much as there can be in a house full of spirit-filled children, and enjoy this one last fast today. A fast from too much busy-ness, too much chatter, too much bickering, from too much indulgence. We wait and we fast because we shall feast very soon.

My faith journey has taken me deeper than I ever knew existed and yet, I can say in complete confidence, I am still just scraping the surface. I cannot believe that just three short years ago I had left our beautifully rich faith. I did not know. I had not appreciated. I wanted Jesus, oh yes, but just not that hard, painful cross that always seems to go along.

I am grateful to be back and I am grateful to see that cross again. Yes, grateful. I am grateful for the indescribably gifts and graces it has brought to my life--to share an ever-deepening faith WITH my husband and my children. I am grateful God didn't give up on me. Not for one moment. He kept putting people in my life who would challenge my reasons for "taking a step back" and "trying out other things". I could name them, but there really is no need. All along, it was just Christ speaking to me through them. Christ saying, "Nicole, my child, I love you. Now turn around and face me. Stop running."

He'll always find a way to talk to our hearts. Always.

Today, I am going to listen and wait. Though we dyed Easter eggs, stocked plenty of goodies for tomorrow and have been inundated with lots of fun bunny dot-to-dots, we will still wait. Easter, I have learned, is about so much more than pretty dresses and egg hunts. That is just the beginning--an opening. A gift. The "gift" is that, through our children's excitement about the "bunny", the "eggs" and the "candy", we are able to relate it all back for them to the One True Gift. That which is Him.

We will wait. We wait for the hands and arms softer than even the softest bunny's fur, the Life that is even greater, brighter, and whiter than those eggs, and sweetness greater than any candy we have ever tasted.

Holy Saturday, indeed.

How to truly embrace the "Passion" of Passion Sunday.

This day is interchangeably called Palm Sunday or Passion Sunday. Passion, referring to Christ's passion, or suffering.

How did we experience The Passion today--aside from the profound Gospel and blessed palms?

As we're entering the church for Mass: Casual Acquaintance walks up to Paxton, who tells her that it's his birthday tomorrow. He's going to be five. Then he tells her that he is going to start wiping his own bottom tomorrow. Lesson one: Humility.

At Chuck E. Cheese for his birthday party this afternoon: Well, that's all. Just enduring that whole place for longer than 5 minutes feels like "passion". Lesson two: Mortification

At home: walking into house and realizing that you left it a disaster this morning before church and you still have to clean up AND pack for the trip to Seattle you're taking tomorrow for a couple days. But first? First you really should call and thank all those sweet and precious people who endured "the passion" at Chuck E. Cheese, all for your son's 5th birthday-- at least giving back verbally. Lesson three: Charity.

Ah, what a day. Paxton is growing faster than I thought he would, faster than I hoped he would. But I am also so amazed by him almost every day that I'll take the sad with the amazing. I love him so much, my five-year-old, hand-holding, McQueen- drawing, airplane and train-loving, spelling and vowel-discerning, taller-than-most-every-other-child-his-age, bottom-wiping boy.