The Funky Clothespin

He's Here!

2012-01-11T17:27:00.000-05:00

We are so happy to announce the birth of our healthy, screaming son, Henry Quinn Weber.

January 5, 2012

8:56 am

6 lbs., 6.3 oz.

18 3/4"

Mama's little gnome.

After a few weeks of perpetual nervousness from strong Braxton Hicks contractions and one and a half full-blown false alarms, our doctor scheduled an induction of labor two days before my due date.

Failure to launch at 38 1/2 weeks.

Here I am, right before going to the hospital for the first time with false alarm #1. I was almost 39 weeks. Catch that nervous twitch in my eye? I had seen the doctor that morning, and all the way home had regular contractions. As I was making pizza for supper, I finally started timing them and realized they were coming every four minutes. They didn't really hurt that bad, but I remembered my labor with Quinn started with regular contractions that weren't very painful. And I thought about the hour-long drive to the hospital. We called the grandparents and packed. We arrived at the hospital, but after several long rounds of walking and 50+ flights of stairs, we ended up coming home. I had a lovely night's sleep, thanks to beautiful little sleeping pill that our wonderful, understanding nurse handed me. By the way, I do not recommend traipsing up stairs if you haven't been exercising for four or more months. I could hardly walk for three days, and couldn't cross my legs for five!

The next false alarm fortunately was stopped before we called the reinforcements. I had woken up with really strong contractions, tossed in bed for two hours with them, then alerted Jason. We got dressed, but then thought better of calling anyone, and settled down into comfortable spots in the living room to make sure it was the real thing. I woke up several hours later with the contractions gone and no baby in my lap.

Doctor's orders--it's time to move out, kid!

Our scheduled induction was a week later. Labor and delivery felt like a doubtful dream. I was afraid for some reason the induction would fail, and we would once again be sent home without a baby. I had even deeper fears that something would go horribly wrong. Despite all the confirmations that this boy was healthy, my heart still had issues with fully trusting God's decision in the whole matter. My nurses made sure I was put in a different L&D room from Quinn's delivery, and I was so glad to not have the same ugly print on my hospital gown. Despite my fears, I was super excited about getting that Pitocin drip, if for nothing more than the end of my uncomfortable pregnancy!

Partway through the shift, the same nurse from Quinn's delivery got called in, and I was reassigned to her! While she and the anesthetist were orchestrating that great relief from the intense pain of childbirth, the epidural pain block, my poor dear husband had his own drama, and fell out cold on the floor, smacking the back of his neck and head against a cupboard door. He came to very quickly, was helped to a chair by two more nurses and given a handy-dandy ice pack not customarily used for--um--head injuries. After we realized he was OK, we had a hard time with the giggles. Poor Jason.

Another shift change brought a familiar face--a friend from church who happens to be a very excellent L&D nurse. It was her daughter who had taken Quinn's pictures at the hospital. We were so very happy to see her, and she kept us distracted and entertained until it was time for business. Not quite two hours later, Henry made his entrance into the world, crying and flailing. I don't think there is a better sight or sound in the whole world. And then he promptly peed on my doctor.

Proud daddy!

So relieved and happy--plus I am NOT pregnant anymore!

Melissa and Henry

And of course, we cried.

When will the displacement reaction begin?

Mommy's already making funny faces at me!

The grandparents and kids arrived before the effects of the epidural had worn off. I still couldn't feel my toes very well at this moment. Helen--her sweet self came up to me a little nervously and asked if Henry was going to die. When I assured her that he was healthy and breathing great, her face lit up.

Owen got to miss school to see his new baby brother. What a fabulous excuse note his grandma got to write! When he held his brother at home, he laughed out, "He's alive! He moved his foot, and he's alive!"

Christmas 2011

2011-12-29T22:28:00.001-05:00

Even though our Christmas decorations are already packed up neatly and tucked away for next year, looking back through our kids' Christmas pictures makes me miss the prettiness of the season. After being surrounded by Christmas spirit since the day after Thanksgiving, I was good and ready to nix the clutter and cleanse the house of sugar! Anticipating a baby's imminent arrival added to my angst. By the way, the Christmas season and the last month of pregnancy are a perfect combination for packing on a few more pounds of "baby" on your hips and thighs.

Excuse Owen's head melting into the wall. I had precious few moments to snap pictures, as we were late for church, and didn't take the time to adjust the window shades. These pictures were taken the week before Christmas. Helen's dress was a hand-me-down from a cousin, Jack's flannel an Economy Shop find, and Owen's sport coat was purchased from a friend of a friend.

Jack is my snuggly buddy. I'm afraid he's not excited about his new baby brother.

Here I am, all glorious, round and sparkly at 37 weeks. And yes, I hear, "You're not that big!!" all the time, referring of course to my baby belly. Spare me. I'm 5' 8 1/2", this kid is everywhere at the same time, and he's been baking in there and displacing my vital organs for a long time. OK. Grumping over.

Helen is her daddy's girl! He took her for a day of present shopping. In the middle of J.C. Penney's jewelry section, he asked her which necklace she wanted. She said, "I have enough necklaces. I'm ready to go. Can we go to Bass Pro?"

My kids have no idea what a great dad they have. He works hard to provide for us, he takes time to play with them and he treats me very well.

On Christmas morning, our family traveled to church in waves. Jason was playing bass on the worship team, Helen was singing in a kids' choir, and Owen was accompanying on his guitar. These two were so excited, and both felt very grown up.

Jack felt left out, and was extremely disappointed not to be able to stand by the drummer on stage. The extra PBS programming he enjoyed all by himself apparently didn't make up for it.

At least Owen thought he was accompanying; he had all the motions down but none of the chords.

Of course, Helen had to adjust her elastic headband right before she got on stage; thus the hair pouf. Oh well. It's just my pride. Afterward, she told me she had admired her cousin Abby's skirt (extreme right) and her friend Kathlyn's dress (green dress, left screen.) "I wish there were two dresses, necklaces and bracelets like Kathlyn's, and then we could wear them at the same time!"

We had a wonderful, warm, quiet celebration with family on Christmas day, participating in the awe and joy of the Savior of the World born so many years ago.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you, whatever the state of your decorations! May you have true Peace settled deep in your hearts.

Mending: Boy's T-Shirt Edition

2011-12-19T15:21:00.000-05:00

I love my sonny boy Jack. But that child is sneaky and independent, and he currently has a li'l listening problem, manifested by the inability to hear and follow specific commands. Whisper, "Daddy wants to take you for a tractor ride," and I'm quite sure he would come running from the farthest corner of the house. He has been sleeping with Jason's Fastline magazine for the past few nights, and can name almost all the farm equipment in it. He is such a boy, and I love him head to squeezy buns to toes.

A few things we commonly hear from him (3 1/2):
(wailing) "I missed some parts!!!" when he is stuck in his crib and the others are watching TV.
"I meeda go potty."
"Fank-you Jesus for dirt."
"Owen/Heh-wyn, you're MEAN!" (translated--"You're not letting me have my way.")

And one trademark morning call he is outgrowing:
"Mommy/Daddy, I'n ah-WAY-yake!!!!! I'n ready for BREAKdust!!!"

I stenciled another shirt for him, because I want to do all I can to capture his heart while he is still my baby. He wasn't completely happy with the shirt, which puzzled me until I realized all his heavy equipment toys are made by John Deere. He was especially foul when another kid called him "Cat." We told him the other boy was just reading his shirt, but he took it as an offense, and probably has filed a grudge anyway. Oh well.

He is enrolled in Atmore's HIPPY program for 3 year olds, and when our instructor came at the beginning of the school year to give me his supplies and his first week of lessons, he immediately opened his school box and grabbed his! very! own! scissors! My mom alarm clanged to red alert, and I warned him a few times to be very careful and not cut anything, as did the instructor, but I was too polite to get up and remove them from his wiggly fingers. Two seconds later, he had a hole in his brand new Target clearance rack t-shirt. Growl.

This irritated woman put the shirt on her mending pile and went about her business as usual for four months before thinking of and completing a five-minute solution.

Our prayers for this kid, aside from physical protection and all, is that he would set his heart on God, and put his independence to good use, refusing to blindly submit to influential peers, authorities and ideas that don't reflect truth. In the meantime, we're working with his "hearing issues," and keeping our sense of humor about him.

Bibs from a T-Shirt

2011-12-16T16:36:00.000-05:00

Let's talk about being limited to a store's choices! Anyone out there hear me? Blech. This is frequently my story if I'm shopping for anything other than groceries: I get a hazy picture of an idea, I can't find anything anywhere that looks like my original thought, and then it's just another (very minor) exercise in dealing with disappointment. When it comes to kid gear, I am singing this tune all the time, and when it comes to fabric for kids, I'm surprised you can't hear my groans from in front of the stove, where you are standing, apron-clad, stirring a pot of black beans or marinara.

A friend asked me to make some non-babyish bibs for her daughter. I knew the fabric store would not have the right prints we wanted, so in a way I felt defeated before I even got started. I decided to look somewhere unexpected, and hunted through my own stash, which had about one known piece of knit in it. That's when I saw some (forgotten) brand-new t-shirts that I had purchased for sewing experimentation/transformation! And this is what became of them:

OK, I had to buy a few more t-shirts. I didn't have all of those at the ready!

I had a simple bib pattern. I cut two of each fabric and sewed them together with my knit-fabric strategy, which includes a ball-point needle, a slight zig-zag stitch and lots of holding of the breath. I turned them right-side out, top stitched them, then added Velcro for a closure. I made fabric flowers and used both hand-stitching and machine-stitching to secure them to the bibs.

My favorite part was detailing the plain red bib. I took strips of t-shirt, pulled them tight so they would curl up, then sewed them on in a slight curve. I did this before putting the back and front of the bib together. So what do you think? Take that, boring stores!

*Next time I make bibs, I will try adding an absorbent layer, like thin terry cloth, in between. And I'm ending that sentence with a preposition, which is almost killing me.

Salt Dough Ornaments with Cinnamon

2011-12-08T12:09:00.001-05:00

Snowflakes are so pretty, especially when it comes to Christmas decorations. I have crocheted snowflakes, paper snowflakes, plastic-and-glitter snowflakes and a metal snowflake on display. I learned to cut six-sided snowflakes in elementary school, and I've been fascinated with them ever since, maybe more so now because I'm not shoveling them out of my driveway.

So when I saw these pretty (unpainted) salt-dough snowflakes, I had to try them. I cringe at detailed painting with craft paint and tiny paintbrushes, and these snowflakes had pen! doodles! on them. I had the idea to create some words with alphabet cutters, too, and Helen helped me plan those the night before. Unfortunately, when it came down to cutting out the ornaments, my time (and patience) were thin, evidenced by my tardiness in the school pick-up line. I was determined to use all the dough I had mixed, so I hand-shaped some initials for the kids and a dove for Quinn. I also rolled out a candy cane and remembered why I stink at play-doh.

I substituted cinnamon for part of the flour, to see what it would do. Some of the salt crystallized at the surface. It looks like frost.

I strung the letters together with embroidery floss.

Helen suggested we write "beauty." I couldn't resist her.

They ended up looking more countrified than I would have liked, but they're cute in their own way. I think they would make great package tie-ons.

I ended up painting the candy cane with a tiny paintbrush and some craft paint. It's cute. Jack's thoughts were, "Look! A candyland is on our tree!"

So what happened to the snowflakes? They didn't turn out like my inspiration, to say the least. I plan to try again later, when my unofficial Cookie Plate Week is over.

Satsuma Season

2011-12-05T14:55:00.001-05:00

Despite our dry spring and dry summer, our satsuma trees are loaded with sweet fruit. These perfect small mandarin oranges have thin peels and hardly any seeds. The cute boxes of Clementine oranges imported from Spain we see in our grocery stores right now cannot hold a candle to these juicy, ripe babies. The kids helped their Daddy pick a wheelbarrow load, and it did not even make a dent in our crop.

This happened to be a colder day here in Alabama, but we're back to wearing t-shirts today.

So what to do with extra satsumas? Make a satsuma cake, for one.

And of course, make marmalade. Alton Brown's recipe turned out to be a good one, and it doesn't even require fruit pectin, so I didn't have to make a special trip to the store. I--uhh--lightly browned the first batch, so I made a make-up recipe the next day to prove to myself that I could indeed tend a boiling pot.

Start with satsumas and one lemon. I used my mini food processor to slice them, peels and all.

Boil them with water for a long time. This was an easy simmer that I stirred every ten minutes.

Add sugar and work out the lumps.

Boil again, watching carefully with a candy thermometer. I used the suggested cold plate method for testing the thickness of the marmalade, since I didn't want flopped satsuma syrup like I've made in the past--with pectin. Stick a saucer in the freezer until it is well chilled, then drop a teaspoon of marmalade on it. Give it a minute, then tip the saucer to see if it's runny or ready. Work on a Rubik's cube while standing in front of the stove. It's good for both sides of your brain!

And in the secondary or tertiary meantime, prepare your jars. I tucked in sprigs of rosemary and cinnamon sticks, hoping for a flavor infusion.

Seal jars with a 10-minute water bath.

Mmmm!!! Write "English muffins" on the grocery list, and make a cup of tea. Give the unsolved Rubik's cube to the kids.

Simplicity 2320

2011-12-03T12:09:00.001-05:00

I love it when people give me fabric! Not because I'm cheap, but because I like that my friends think about me when they're going through their scraps. I love to create new things from old, and to do it on a shoestring budget too. I had an extra lovely greeting one Sunday at church, when a sweet friend met me with a bag of fabric stash.

I thought this old-fashioned floral piece had some potential. I tried it out with Simplicity 2320, a Project Runway inspired pattern. The dress has a square yoke with a cute little split/dippy notched neckline detail and a pleated skirt front.

The sleeve variations on the pattern are all cute, but I went with the three-quarter length sleeves. I cut a size 5 with a size 6 length. I did the same with the sleeves, but ended up having to shorten them back to a size 5, because it looked like a little girl had quite outgrown her dress, and her mother was trying to make it work for one more wear.

The pattern sewed up very nicely, and the only nail-biting moment was setting in the square yoke. After I read the directions more carefully and then inspected my work, I figured it out.

When I finished sewing the dress, it looked like a pathetic floral choir robe. I didn't have enough of the right kind of trim for the bodice or sleeves. I went to bed that night scratching my head, but woke up with better ideas. I found a wide ribbon scrap and made some fabric rosettes to keep up with the crafty trend.

I will definitely be making this pattern again. I think it would work great with a solid color, to really show off the lines of the yoke and the pleats. I think a bigger, more modern print would work too. I'm also curious how it would sew up in knit, but right now my machine is skipping stitches when I work with knit. (Fingers crossed that it's a bent needle.)

Helen and the Pink Poodle Cake

2011-12-03T11:10:00.001-05:00

Since it took a while to post Owen's birthday pictures, it was only fair to wait on Helen's as well. Her big day of turning five began with a breakfast date with her daddy at the Anchor, then a trip to Mr. Joel's coffee shop to get a hot chocolate. But he was out of milk, so he provided a verbal rain check for another special time.

We let Helen open her presents from us at supper that night. She was gleeful over the jewelry crafting supplies and paint-your-own-fairy-statue kit.

When we teased her about a birthday spanking, though, this happened:

Not one of our finer moments as parents! Nevertheless, I rebounded with her requested pink poodle cake. I have told my kids I hate poodles, that somehow they are a lesser degree of dog. (Sorry Aunt Dot!) Please don't send poodle hate my way. They are just sharp and little and yappy, and I don't like them. I guess when the Family Fun magazine featured such a cute cake, my little girl could not resist. She had it picked out for almost a year.

Helen is getting sillier and sillier, and it doesn't have much to do with birthday parties and sugar either.

We combined her party at a family celebration at Grandpa's house. She and her girl cousins each had a birthday to properly cheer.

I'm including this goofy picture for the benefit of viewing my side profile. (And this was a month ago!) Baby Boy is growing and kicking healthfully.

The cousins keep getting bigger. I couldn't be happier for such wonderful nieces and nephews!

And here's our little family. Please excuse the crooked eyeglasses! My last pair of contacts had torn, and I was still awaiting my eye doctor appointment.

The Reluctant Dining Room Makeover

2011-11-26T22:35:00.001-05:00

Is it any secret that I have disliked our dining room table and chairs for a long time? We don't even use the reproduction oak pressback chairs that came with our set because a) they are horribly uncomfortable, b) they are falling to pieces, and most importantly, c) they are not my style.

The dining set came by us at a time when we really needed a bigger table, and it was truly a blessing, so I have to temper my complaints about it, but it really wasn't my dream antique round oak or antique trestle table or something else indescribable that just captivated me. Not that I'm picky about furniture. Cough, cough.

After much talk and some Pinterest surfing, I got up the nerve to paint the thing. I chose to stick with the good ol' Benjamin Moore mayonnaise, partly because we had three half-used cans of it in the shop (which is mostly because underneath my furniture affectations, I'm immensely practical,) and partly because I thought a black table would be too expected, and partly because I thought a bright color (like red or turquoise) would be too, too wrong and startling, and it scared me to bits. Plus, I had a glimmering hope that using the same shade as my paneling would make the table fade away into nothingness.

Alas.

I also redid our mismatched yard-sale-find chairs with a different can of paint from the shop. The T-back chairs were already a lovely shade of blue, with fabulous colors peeking through, but they needed a freshening due to a replaced (and exposed and bare) support rail. The color makes me happy, but I'm not convinced it's what my dining room needed.

I was stuck on recovering the cloth seats of two of my chairs. I had $0 budgeted for this project, so I had to raid my fabric stash. I came up absolutely empty. And then my eyes caught some ratty jeans.

Denim? Nah. Too country. Way too country.

But it gave me another idea. I dove into my discarded clothing pile, and came out with a pair of corduroys.

All said and done, I'm not convinced on the table color or the seat covers, but they work for now. The table really should be finished with some sort of protective coating (after another coat of mayonnaise to cover up nicks, fingerprints, ink, and rings left from glasses.) I'm soooo not into country decorating, but I feel extremely locked into it with this table. Any suggestions?

At least the pumpkins on the table are cute!

And thank you, Daddy, for introducing the kids to the fabulous sound effects one can make while perched on a corduroy-covered seat.

Owen, Number Seven!

2011-11-26T19:09:00.001-05:00

I fully realize this was Iron Bowl day in SEC country, and our favorite team did not do well. Boo! But these pictures have been stuck on my camera for far too long--over a month?!

Owen had been wanting an Auburn football cake for his 7th birthday for a long time. We went with the football theme, and Jack, Helen and I brought cookies to school for him to share with his classmates. The girls got the pompoms, and the boys got the footballs, and this was all there was left!

We had his party on a Sunday afternoon, when Jason was sure to be off work and it suited the most family members. Owen was a little disappointed that there was no Auburn logo on his cake, which sparked a conversation about Mommy's limits.

It's still so great to see him blow out his candles! I'm proud of all the work he's done in speech therapy, all these years. It's amazing to think about how God is using him, even at his young age and despite his weakness with speech, to speak truth to others.

Owen also has the gift of rhythm. Jason and I cringingly bought him a small drum set. I put it together in the living room, just because it was more convenient. It was so loud it didn't stay there for more than a few hours. Back corner of the basement, baby!

Helen snapped this shot of me, the chief cake baker and crumb cleaner around here. Bless her for documenting me in my weary-eyed, swollen, pregnant state! Happy Birthday, Owen.

Just Another Busy Day

2011-10-26T22:44:00.000-04:00

My Saturday was B-U-S-Y, unusually so! I spent most of the day getting ready for Sunday's activities, which included a pastors' appreciation lunch at church and Owen's birthday party here in the evening. My time was concentrated in the kitchen, but the house screamed to be cleaned, and the fall decorations impatiently sneezed their way out of a dusty box under the basement stairs.

Here was my kitchen list, although a few tasks were meant for Sunday and a few I had to scrap:

The kitchen counter says it all, down to the half-eaten apple perched near the edge.

This is what happened when the bread timer sounded in spite of the mixing of pizza dough and cooling of cakes on the counter. The cupcakes were resentful of sharing personal space, and rudely shoved this loaf onto the floor.

When Jason got to come home (early!) from digging peanuts, he suggested we go out for dinner. This tired mama quickly agreed, even though the pizza dough and toppings had been prepared. (They served me well on Tuesday evening.)

With Jason behind the vacuum, and me on bathroom maid duty, the cleaning got finished. The house breathed a sigh of gladness and thanked me for the freshened decor. And I thanked my husband and our waitress at Dixie Catfish for the fried dill pickles and catfish po-boy.

Giftings

2011-10-20T10:25:00.000-04:00

I love to make and give gifts! I make what gifts I can, but sometimes I actually have the cash to buy something, and sometimes time does not permit me to get crafty. And sometimes the receiver may not appreciate a hand-made gift (enter big boys). And truthfully, sometimes I'm afraid my hand-made gift will be sniffed at in a not-so-nice manner. So a gift made by me versus a fancy store-bought something does not denote any type of favoritism either way, but the crafted things tend to be given to those whom I think might appreciate them. That's my disclaimer and I'm sticking to it.

Here's to catching up on some children's gifts I've made in the past months. Most of them were given on time, not that I would know anything about belated gifts and/or cards.

A onesie for Connor:

A onesie for Layla Grace:

A pillowcase top for Braleigh (and one nearly identical, not pictured, for Ericka):

A pillowcase top for Kathlyn:

Wouldn't that be cute with jeans and cowboy boots?

If only I could wear pillowcase tops and onesies, my closet would be set. My ever-expanding, now 28-1/2-week-pregnant belly is becoming quite the wardrobe challenge.

Start the Bathwater

2011-10-15T17:53:00.001-04:00

There are few things that grab me more than Jack-Jack and his dirt-lovin' heart. He has a good habit of quietly playing on his own for long periods of time. He also has a bad habit of silently wandering. When we're not sure where he is, we have a standard first place to look: beside the outside air conditioning unit where the mulch put down many years ago has finally disintegrated.

This fine substitute for a sand box isn't so nice for Mama after a rain, though.

One thing is certain--this little man earns his naps.

Because I promised

2011-10-11T00:49:00.008-04:00

Because it's hard to talk about your very own failures, I dreaded putting up this post.

We did a few things right when it came to remembering Quinn on her special day. We took the kids to Bass Pro, where they shoved quarters into the shooting range rifles, and I bought my first ever cast-iron skillet, an essential item in every southern cook's kitchen. We let the kids pick Chik-fil-A over the Mellow Mushroom. Apparently it's hard for my children to choose the unknown when the familiar is an option, even when the chicken is too spicy and the other kids in the play area are too loud.

Then we sped home for butterfly cake.

The cake. Helen had been imagining a butterfly cake for Quinn for months in advance. I agreed, remembering a cute cut-up cake my mom made for me when I was five. Helen helped me bake it. Helen also dresses herself.I tinted the frosting orange, a color I had fallen in love with while I was pregnant with Quinn. It got a little garish. We decorated the butterfly with bits and pieces of found candy. It got a little tacky. I stuck on Fruit-by-the-Foot antennae. They got a little droopy.When we finally arrived home, past bedtime, for butterfly cake, the anticipation of the moment had long since peaked, but Jason and I were determined to make this celebration happen. We lit the one candle and wanted all three kids to blow it out.

The mood started to change the moment we pulled out the camera.

And it just got worse with each picture.
Jason had to remove the sweet, sobbing daughter from the scene, help her into her jammies and tuck her into bed for the night. The boys ate their pieces of cake, and I choked one down. It was sickeningly sweet to me. I could hardly chew and swallow, it just felt so wrong.

So many times, my kids bring me back to reality. Are my dreams for them cleverly disguised dreams for me or my image? My wishes for perfect, glittery children frequently get interrupted by improperly extracted boogers, learning hurdles, embarrassing public behavior and bad attitudes. (And while some behaviors obviously need to be curbed and others eliminated, we can't tamper with basic personalities and talents. For example, we can tell Owen that he absolutely must stop playing air guitar on the soccer field, but we cannot make him cease to love music or turn him into the star athlete on the team. We can tell Jack that he absolutely has to tell us before he tries to go stinky at church, and that he may not walk around with his pants around his ankles in the lobby, but we cannot change his independent, confident outlook.)

I had really built up this moment in my mind. This cake that I thought would be the perfect way to remember what would have been Quinn's first birthday was a disaster, and in hindsight, more about me than about what our family needed. Forced moments. Can't we all recall those from our own childhoods? Yuck.

Pretzel Chocolate Chip Cookies

2011-09-16T17:39:00.004-04:00

Oh yes. I am one of those who loves a good salty-sweet combo. I admit to breaking pretzels into ice cream. I like leftover frosting schmeared between Ritz crackers. I love Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby--which involves peanut-butter-filled pretzel mix in. It doesn't take much to gain my affection.

Recently I got started on Pinterest, an online bulletin board system of keeping pictures that catch one's fancy from around the internet(s). (By the way, internet/internets, which is correct and why? Anyone?)

Last night I was browsing other people's recently pinned items and came across an absolutely fabulous idea--chocolate chip cookies with crushed pretzels baked into them.

Today I just had to make them. I waited until the kids were down for their rest, so I could work without interruption, and do a neater job of it in the process. But somehow this managed to happen: WHAT?! Yes. That is a bag of bread.
Apparently this is what can happen if you knock over your mixer, the switch hits a burner knob and the laid-over beaters start spinning with no one at the controls. Seriously, I cannot understand myself.

I dutifully chilled the dough, hoping to prevent the dreaded cookie spread. I carefully measured out dough, slightly flattened each mound and sprinkled away with Kosher salt.

The end result? I had to pour myself a glass of milk to find out. Then I had to brew a fresh pot of coffee to really find out. If YOU want to find out, here's my chicken-scratch recipe. But I wouldn't trust it. I still can't remember if I used baking soda like I was supposed to, or if I grabbed the baking powder instead.
Here's the link to the real cookie genius.

More Memories of Quinn

2011-09-13T14:14:00.007-04:00

What followed Quinn's death was a blur. Family members were waiting for us back in our hospital room. The nurses brought our precious girl to us, all cleaned up and ready to be held, loved and admired. She wore a little white outfit printed with soft pink angels that had been Helen's. And then our kids came. We heard their excited voices in the hall.

How do you explain death to children?

We could do nothing but tell them the truth--that she was dead. There was something very wrong with Quinn's lungs, and she couldn't breathe on her own. Her body died, and her spirit went to live with Jesus in Heaven. Their hearts were broken. We gave them their gifts from Quinn; a Leapster case for Owen that his nosiness already knew he was getting, a cute doll for Helen that she named Nicholas, and a homemade hobby horse for Jack.

Auto-pilot kicked on and we smiled for family pictures. We passed Quinn around, savoring each moment, delaying the inevitable end.

Here we are, finally holding our baby!

Some sweet moments of Daddy and his little girl.

Gene helped out with positioning. I may have been having one of many wardrobe malfunctions.Our kids couldn't wait to hold her.
Our family for a moment in time.

We treasure our pictures. It's what we have. One of the kindest things our hospital did for us was to call a photographer, whom we happened to know! I can't imagine that it was easy for Abbie to take pictures, but we were so grateful she used her talents to give us such a priceless gift.

After all of my reminiscing, I would be absolutely lying to say I'm still overcome with grief. Of course some moments are still very hard, and not a day goes by that I don't think of my little girl. But slowly, surely, I've yielded my hurt to God, trusting Him with my heart. In spite of my stubbornness, He has done amazing things in my life.

I'm letting go of bitterness.
I'm learning to empathize with others in their pain--it doesn't scare me so bad anymore.
I'm reevaluating where I find satisfaction and what really matters.
I'm realizing that my children do not belong to me, but are merely entrusted to my care for a time.
I'm gripping hard to Truth--that Jesus, the Son of God, the Creator, has overcome Death and Hell, and His power is at work in me!

Stay tuned for pictures of Quinn's one-year birthday!

September 9, 2010

2011-09-09T11:51:00.000-04:00

We were transferred to a mother-baby room, where we waited for news. Dr. Sims, the hospital’s pediatrician, came and talked to us, though I don’t remember much of what he had said. Jason had already called our parents and our pastor Gene, officially telling them the baby’s name—Quinn Ruthie—but that she was in trouble.

Soon Gene came. He waited with us. We told him what had happened. He prayed with us. I remember wishing he would leave, because I believed we were all done with him. I had no idea. Even though I expected the worst that could happen, I had no clue about the total emotional and physical incapacity we were about to experience. Since Sacred Heart Hospital has a high level NICU, and is well respected for treating babies and children, we had authorized a transfer. The transfer team came to us, although I don’t remember the names of the two women—they were dressed in purple jumpsuits. We had seen them as we were wheeled past the nursery, thinking we could go in and see our baby. We couldn’t peek at her after all, because they had just arrived and were evaluating her.

They told us straight-forwardly that our baby was very sick. Ordinarily, they would have brought her to our room before transfer, but they wanted us to see her in the nursery. I asked if we could hold her, and they had to tell me no.

We were breathless as we went down the hall. Gene came along. Jason and I stood beside Quinn, touched her, talked to her, leaned to kiss her. The nursery workers and transfer team gave us time and room. Jessica, a nursery nurse, took our camera from Gene, or he gave it to her, and started taking pictures of us. Quinn was so beautiful, but she looked awful hooked up to the ventilator. She had an umbilical IV and another IV in her hand. She had a pulse ox on her other hand. She seemed to be looking at us, but only one eye was partially open, her left eye, and she never blinked. I wiped the shiny ointment of her brows and eyelids. It was a joyful time, but such a scary and trembling one too. The atmosphere around her was still charged. We went back to our room to wait again. Soon the transfer team came back in, stating that she was getting worse. They were giving her 100% oxygen at the maximum pressure, and her oxygen saturation had sunk to the 30s or 40s. They wanted to know if we wanted to continue with the transfer. Sacred Heart had better ventilators, and her life might have been prolonged a few more hours. We looked at each other, and both said we just wanted to hold her. I felt my heart gasping. I couldn’t believe this was happening to us. I was wheeled back to the nursery once again. I sat in a rocking chair someone pulled up for me. Quinn was in my arms, at last. She felt so good. She smelled so good. We kissed her and stroked her. We laughed delightedly over her. We checked out her cute little folded up ears. We looked at her hands and feet. Her little arm was so small. She didn’t have enough strength to move. Her eyes were closed. Jessica checked her heart rate, taking her off the vent to be able to hear it. I felt panic about Quinn not getting oxygen for those extended seconds. Her heart rate was 20. Jason and I passed her back and forth, while Gene sat with us, took pictures and made phone calls for us. While I was holding her, something felt warm on my lap. I unfolded her blanket, and realized she was bleeding out her umbilical IV line because it had been pulled in all of our shuffling. Jessica helped me change her diaper, the one diaper I got to change on my baby. Someone else helped me change into another hospital gown. I sat back down with her, and realized she felt cold, but I didn’t want to say anything, to anybody.

I finally had to pee so bad, I couldn’t take it anymore. I hadn’t been able to go yet after her delivery, even though I had tried, and I still had a bunch of IV fluids in me. I asked a nurse for some help. I was wheeled back to yet a different room, yet another alarm as I realized it was on the “baby-less” hall, and all of our things had been moved for us. I peed and peed, all the while desperately wanting to get back to Quinn. When I returned to the nursery, Jason told me he thought she was gone. I was broken. We wept over her. Dr. Sims confirmed it, at 9:00 am. We gently surrendered her to the nurses, and walked back to the room, staring at the walls all the way. There were no dry eyes.

September 8, 2010, part II

2011-09-09T08:30:00.003-04:00

Shannon rushed an IV bolus of fluids and my labwork to get my epidural quickly. One of the nurses’ first questions is always “Do you want an epidural?” I had replied that I would appreciate it. I was so ticklish getting the epidural. I couldn’t stop giggling, which made Shannon laugh too. She commented that my pain tolerance was amazing. She joked about her boyfriend, an ER nurse, getting pale when he once overheard a woman scream in labor pain.

After the epidural took effect and the initial monitoring was over, I was about 7-8 centimeters dilated. She switched out the lights, told me to recline my bed and get some rest. Jason stretched out on the chair/bed. I rested for what seemed like an hour. Shannon came in the room to tell me she had called Jenny Allen, the nurse-midwife on call for Dr. LaRose, who wasn’t able to perform deliveries due to rotator cuff surgery.

Soon Jenny showed up, introduced herself, checked me and told me it was time to push. Jason woke up. I had Nurse Allen and Shannon rescue my good running socks off my feet. I apologized for my non-pedicured feet. Nurse Allen broke my water, and I didn’t even realize it. She mentioned I would have to push a little, and then she would need to suction the baby because of the meconium. I couldn’t understand how she knew the baby had pooped already, and that’s when she told me she had broken my water, which by the way was green. This situation made me nervous, but there was nothing I could do about it. Shannon got the suctioning device ready, and I gave one good push. Nurse Allen commented I was a really good at pushing, and had me stop while she suctioned Quinn. Then I finished pushing, except I remember the baby just slipped out. She held Quinn up very briefly for us to see her, and then all of her attention was on the baby. She let Jason cut the cord quickly, and then she started suctioning Quinn with the blue snot sucker.

Quinn didn’t cry. She looked like she was gasping for breath, like someone emerging from a pool, and her arms were flailing. Panic rushed through my heart. Instead of the relief of a newborn cry, suddenly Quinn was on the cart, surrounded by eight to ten people. More and more people poured in by the minute. Shannon stood by my side, patting me, rubbing my shoulder as if to reassure me. That made me even more nervous, because I knew she knew more than I did. Nurse Allen reported, “Mom and Dad, Baby’s got some sort of a syndrome. I don’t know what it is.” She went on to describe clubbed feet and twisted hands, low-set ears. We heard the code team calculating how much epinephrine to give her, based on her weight. She was given two doses before her heart sped up enough to be satisfactory. An hour passed in that room, with a hushed, fervent frenzy in the corner around Quinn. The Life Flight team of guys came in, and I pictured her being flown out immediately, but they were just there to manage the code. I remember, before the code even started, wondering if she was going to die right there in front of our eyes. She was born at 3:02 am on September 9, 2010. We found out later she was 5 pounds, 7 ounces, our smallest baby yet, even at 41 weeks.

Shannon took over, asking me if I needed anything, after Quinn was finally taken to the nursery. I remember asking her if SHE was OK. I knew if I felt the horror and trauma of the event, she certainly did. She looked me straight in the eyes with her own bright, swollen and red-rimmed blue ones, and said, “My job is you. I’m here to take care of you.” I didn’t feel like I wanted or needed anything. I certainly wasn’t hungry, but she brought me graham crackers.

I had seen them bagging Quinn and doing two-fingered chest compressions on her little body. I had wanted to be in the middle of it, watching my baby, but knew I needed to stay back for her wellbeing.

Dr. LaRose was called in, even though it was still the middle of the night, so I could see a familiar face. He gave me a hug, and stuck around until it was all over.

September 8, 2010, part I

2011-09-08T21:37:00.002-04:00

As we near the one-year mark for Quinn’s birthday, on September 9, we can’t help but look back on our brief memories of her, so I’m publishing some of my early writing, with editing to make it more readable.

When I was pregnant with Quinn, Jason and I had our usual ongoing discussion about labor and delivery. With the other three children, I was medically induced into labor with IV Pitocin, always after my due date and with the approval of my doctor, but with this baby, I really, really wanted the experience of my body going into labor on its own. I half-joked that it was Jason’s paranoid belief that we would either schedule an induction, or have a baby by the side of the road on the way to the hospital. I was nervous about not being able to note my own labor, or calling a false alarm and mistaking normal pregnancy twinges for labor pains. Furthermore, I was distrustful of my body actually being able to put itself into labor, and wanted to prove a point to myself!

Is This the Real Thing?

On Wednesday afternoon around 3:00, I started having contractions that felt like more intense Braxton Hicks. I charted them to help me think more clearly. The kids really started to act up, and they were getting on my nerves! I knew Jason’s target time to be finished spraying in McCullough, about a 10-15-minute drive by car, and longer by tractor, so I waited to call him since I didn’t want to sound a false alarm and cause him precious time in the field. Ruth was forty-five minutes away in Brewton, too, and I didn’t want her to have to come home early from work for nothing. I wasn’t hungry, and felt too nervous and excited to eat, but the family needed to be fed. I made a very simple meal of rice and beans. By the time we sat down, around 5:00, I was able to eat a little—thinking if it was real labor, I didn’t know how long it could take and didn’t want to be starving in between contractions! Jason kept rechecking to my timed list on the wipe-off board, measuring the intervals between my contractions. He noted the continual, gradual increase in frequency. He was in GO mode and was nervous himself! He took a shower, we finished packing the kids’ stuff (he stuck their whole toothbrush holder in with their things), and then he took them down to his parents’ house for the night. I wasn’t feeling at all social, and he gave me the option of staying behind. I was so grateful. When he came back, I decided to escape reality in a book, and sank into the green chair for two hours. The contractions slowed.

I told Jason it was time to go for a walk! The first really big contraction hit as we were walking up the hill beside his parents’ house. The contractions upped in frequency, but not in pain. The first one that made me stop and bend over happened at the end of the lane, a mile away. They were coming exactly three minutes apart, but were very bearable. Since we live a little over an hour away from our delivery hospital, we decided it was time to go! We got our things ready. Ever careful with vehicles, Jason put a garbage bag and a towel over my seat in case my water broke on the way. We left, and called our parents. Of course, the contractions slowed to every eight minutes while he was driving, but we knew we could walk in Pensacola! We walked for an hour in the parking lot at Baptist, until it wasn’t fun anymore for me. My contractions were every two minutes, and my back was aching, whether from contractions or walking or both, I didn’t know.

We entered through the Emergency Department, since it was midnight and it was the only door open. I tried not to smile, so people would believe I was really in labor. I felt stupid being pushed in a wheelchair up to Labor and Delivery. Even when the L&D nurses looked up, not expecting me, I felt goofy, grinning and excited, but supposed to be in labor. I was wheeled into Room 2, and Shannon introduced herself to me as my nurse.

After I got changed into a gown and seated in the bed, she checked my cervix. I was between 5 and 6 centimeters dilated! She sang, “We’re gonna have a baby!” and said I wasn’t going to leave the hospital with the baby still inside. My body was doing it! I was in real labor, and had figured it out. I felt vindicated, relieved, celebratory. We were so excited to finally meet our baby, Quinn.

Dirt

2011-08-28T10:34:00.005-04:00

When your Daddy is a farmer and has to fix a part on a tractor, grain drill, or disk, you beg to go to work with him. When your Mommy is grumpy and needs a break at the same time, she will look at your Daddy and do something funny with her eyebrows. It will work almost every time.

When you come home from school on a Friday afternoon and your Mommy discovers you have a fever, and then your sister gets a fever too, your Mommy will be sad at having to miss a wedding that night. You were going to have to take a bath and get all dressed up. She will also be sad about having to miss her date with Daddy the next night. You were going to play at a friend's house, and you are very sad too. And then your Mommy will say that it's time to make pig cookies again, and that she is glad she can take care of you. But she will fuss about the crumbs on the floor.

Cute Pig Cookies

1 c. butter or margarine, softened (I use part butter and part Crisco)
1 1/2 c. sugar
2 eggs
1 c. sour cream
1 t. vanilla
3 c. all-purpose flour
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. salt

Frosting:
1/2 c. butter, melted
4 c. powdered sugar
2 t. vanilla
6 T. milk
3-4 drops red food coloring

Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs, sour cream and vanilla; mix well. Combine dry ingredients; add to creamed mixture and mix well. Drop by tablespoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheets. Bake at 375 for 10-12 minutes or until edges are lightly browned. Cool.

Decorate cookies with frosting, pink sugar wafer cookies, halved large marshmallows and Reese's candy bar sprinkles or whatever you can find at the store.

Oink away.

It's Time

2011-08-23T08:57:00.004-04:00

Three weeks ago, we found out we're having a boy! He looks healthy so far, but I'm having a hard time simply believing and hoping that everything will turn out according to the way I want. I want this baby to make it to my due date alive, survive the labor and delivery process, and be totally healthy and normal, where my worst problems might be colic or regurgitation issues or a bit of jaundice, but I know that I'm not guaranteed anything. I have a more in-depth ultrasound scheduled for next week with a perinatologist. My regular OB assures me that although this pregnancy is technically considered high-risk, he is treating me as a low-risk patient with the exception of referring to Dr. Maher, a consult which I requested.

When our 17-week ultrasound showed male anatomy, my heart sank. I had hoped so much for a little girl to step into the empty nursery that Quinn wasn't able to use, to wear her special clothes and to use the girly things I had made and bought for her. In a bizarre sort of way, I thought having another girl would keep me from having to sort the baby room, keep me from going through memories that I didn't want to face, and allow me to deny how great a loss we have.

Our gigantic church yard sale is coming up next month, and with that in mind, something clicked inside me. Without a lot of forethought, I walked into Quinn's room, opened up drawers and started removing all the baby girl things. Pretty onesies, pink sleepers, cute pacifiers, hair bows, tights--all on the floor. I opened her wardrobe doors, and the pink hangers went flying. I soon called Helen to help me, and we admired all the little clothes that she had worn as a baby. Somehow I was able to handle all those precious things without sitting in a puddle of tears. I had angry moments and sad moments, but overall it felt good.

And then I saw this:Quinn's sweet, sweet dress that my mother-in-law made for her. Ruth had picked out the fabric, and I chose the cut, smocking pattern and colors of embroidery floss. She used antique buttons from my stash to close the back of the dress. It was and is precious, and it's not going anywhere.
At the MOPS Convention in Nashville, I had the privilege of hearing Mary Beth Chapman speak about the loss of her five-year-old daughter. Those were tender moments, but believe me, I saved my ugly cry for meeting her at the book signing. Oh yes. She said that her grief had been like a dark forest that she didn't want to leave, for fear of leaving Maria behind. God showed her that all around the forest was a beautiful meadow of flowers, and that Maria wasn't in the forest, but in the light, joy-filled meadow. Leaving her intense darkness behind was actually a step toward her daughter. She also said that you never get OVER it, but you get THROUGH it.

Here's the thing: Heaven is real, and Quinn is there with Jesus. She is not living in my memories. She actually is alive in Heaven, right now. As someone told the Chapmans, my future with her is definitely going to be longer than my past with her! It's those truths and the grace of God that help me move forward in hope. Knowledge of an eternity in Heaven helps my situation fall into perspective.

So I do wait in hope for this new baby boy, with the confidence that God's grace and compassion are perfectly sufficient for me in any situation. (And we're still stuck on the name!)

Looks Who is in First Grade!

2011-08-20T00:13:00.003-04:00

Owen was so excited to start school this year, and he is still excited after the first week and a half. He started his first day right with a pancake (from the freezer.) This mama is not in the habit of getting up earlier than 6 am to fix fresh-from-scratch pancakes for her darlings! I did put one candle in it though.
New uniform pants, new school supplies, new box of Kleenex and roll of paper towels! (That is NOT toilet paper in the Winn Dixie bag.)
New teacher, new classroom, new curriculum! We pray this is another great school year for Owen.

Jack and the Birthday

2011-08-18T13:45:00.007-04:00

Whoa Nelly! We've been so busy this summer I forgot all about posting pictures from Jack's third birthday--way back in June. That little man has been such a joy for us, and he has also offered his share of challenges. He brings a lot of humor to our family, both the wacky physical feat kind and the complete sentence variety. He had a great year of being 2, and it was hard to let him grow older.

Jack loves cows, second only to roosters. I don't know why. He had been insisting on a brown cow cake for months in advance, and since I had never baked him our family's traditional lamb cake, I thought the two were close enough for a go.Although maybe not. But at least it was eaten quickly. And at least there were plenty of hay bales to distract the naked eye. Poor anatomically incorrect Jersey cow.Daddy gave him a boost for the candle blow-out,and continued to hold him for the obligatory first bite of lamb-cow cake.But cousins are really what make birthday parties fun! As are empty Elmo backpacks borrowed from brothers.

A few recent and/or odd Jack-quotes:

"Good morning, noodles!!!" (running into the kitchen and seeing fresh pasta hanging from a drying rack)

"Old MacDonald's taking a shower." (declarative on the Atmore McDonald's indoor waterwall)

"Mama is a lady...'cause she gives us treats."

(praying) "And Jesus, this is my pedometer I wear when I'm picking up toys. It tells me what to do. That's what it do's. Yeah."

Helen's Going to Sleep Poem

2011-07-27T15:30:00.002-04:00

Our Weber family reunion was held at Berea College in Kentucky in June. It was a beautiful setting, a cute town and perfect weather, a lovely frame for connecting with family and eating famously good Weber-prepared food. The college put the whole reunion in the Elizabeth Rogers Hall for the weekend, and our family bedded down as comfortably as possible in our assigned dorm room for the night. We tucked the kids into floor nests under the high loft-style bunk beds and said good night, and we all went to bed at the same time so the kids wouldn't be frightened about sleeping alone in such an unfamiliar setting.

Owen zonked out immediately, as normal. Jack and Helen whispered and giggled with each other for a long time. Eventually Jack fell asleep, but Helen continued to talk very softly and quickly to herself until she finally drifted off to her dreams.

The next morning, I asked her what she had been saying. She rattled it off to me, so quickly she had to repeat it several times until I understood:

"I want to sleep like this for a while.
I want to close my cute little eyes.
Please let me breathe whenever I want to.
And sometimes I have to swallow spit."

Rain

2011-07-21T16:50:00.004-04:00

Wow. This is embarrassing! This poor blog has certainly not been a priority lately. I'm still thinking of posts, finding I have a lot to say, but nothing to say. I want to write things perfectly, but can't figure out the right words. Some of my thoughts are worthwhile, but most of them are forgettable.

I did write something lately, requested by Jason's uncle Lloyd, to be read at our Kauffman reunion at Bethel Camp in Kentucky. Other than having to publicly read something I wrote, I had a great time catching up with uncles, aunts and cousins, meeting their kids and eating fabulous food from the camp kitchen. Here it is:

Wednesday I was outside, huge Tupperware bowl at my feet, picking blueberries as fast as I could. Suddenly storm clouds covered the sun, thunder sounded in the distance and a cold wind whipped through the trees. The blueberries danced out of reach. I grabbed onto leaves, fiercely determined to steady the waving branches, angry at the timing of the weather and angry at the thought of losing blueberries to yet another rainless storm.

It had been so dry for so long. When our regional summer weather pattern of localized pop-up afternoon thunderstorms had begun, it was our fields, our property, that got missed. Hope would arrive in the shape of cumulonimbus clouds, but it was others around who reported their relieved joy, measured quantifiably in tenths of inches. After a time, I felt my heart hardening each time the sky darkened. Certainly we had been praying for rain. Certainly it seemed our request fell on uncaring ears. "God, have you forgotten us?!" I had to ask, knowing the truth, but feeling something different. I wanted to leave when the storms blew up. I wanted to drive somewhere, anywhere, so I wouldn't have to be home when the clouds left our property rainless.

We want to protect ourselves against physical disaster, and to some extent we can. We wear seatbelts. We eat our vegetables. We own insurance policies, for crying out loud. But if only there were some kind of emotional insurance, to protect our hearts from being damaged or shattered. We live to please God. We make choices to honor Him. We expect His blessings, but we don't expect His blessings to come in a package of pain. Ironically, James says, "Consider it pure joy...whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

The evening of the blueberry picking did end in rain. I was thankful, but in a begrudging sort of way. I felt like the spoiled child who had pitched a fit, manipulated parents, gotten what she wanted and then not enjoyed the undeserved result.

I felt guilty because I had been refusing the trial of drought. Instead of embracing God through my fear and receiving joy in His truths, I was choosing bitterness and hardheartedness.

The truth is, that even if the farm dries up and all is lost, God will still be in control. He will still be available. His presence is far more important than our present circumstances, though He cares about the details of our lives. The far greater tragedy would be success on the farm and loss of access to Him.

_____

We traveled to northern Indiana, my home area, after our reunion. While we were there, it rained buckets back home, so much so that Jason and all his farmer friends joked that we should have left a long time ago.

When I wrote this, there was more than weather on my mind. We are expecting another baby, due January 6th! While we are incredibly excited about the pregnancy, we are also scared out of our minds that it will once again end with no baby in our arms. I wish there were some way to protect our hearts from being smashed to bits. But as one of Jason's cousins articulated, "It's the risk you take by choosing to love."

One thing of which I am particularly fearful is that people might think we have moved on from our loss, and this is our replacement for Quinn, and that everything is neat and tidy in our emotional lives by now. Just the thought of that makes me so angry, and it's one reason I've delayed announcing my pregnancy. So please pray for us as we choose to love this baby, no matter what the outcome may be. We are choosing to trust God, our perfect Father, who has perfect knowledge and perfect love for us.

Owen and the Baler

2011-05-24T15:51:00.004-04:00

Owen loves to be with his Daddy, and can easily drop whatever exciting thing he is doing under my supervision to join the work down at the farm shop or jump in Jason's truck for errands in town. Because of his inquisitive nature, he has been to places I never have and knows more about farm equipment than I ever will. I love to watch him identify with Jason and try to fit himself into his Daddy's world. The other day when our family walked into the farm shop to say hello to Jason, I saw that light in Owen's eyes and a very awed grin across his face and knew it was the beginning of the end.

One person Owen met and loved was Mrs. Beth, who worked the parts counter at Smith Tractor. She paid attention to him, and he definitely noticed her. When Mrs. Beth announced she was quitting, and her last week of work came up, Jason took Owen with him into the John Deere dealership. While Jason was conducting his farm business, Owen must have been perusing the toy aisle, because he came away talking about a round hay baler that he wanted to buy. That night, Jason helped him count the change in his bank, which happened to be a very small sum. Since Jason had promised Owen he would ask about the baler, the next morning he brought the toy up to the desk at Smith Tractor to ask Mrs. Beth how much it was.

That kind woman would not name the price until she had heard the contents of Owen's piggy bank. "And that's how much it is," she pronounced definitively. She took the hay baler, placed it under the counter and told Jason to bring in Owen.

Jason called me before I picked up Owen for school and gave me the low-down. He was in the fields and was not able to come into town, so he asked me to take Owen and his money in to Mrs. Beth.

The parts counter was hopping, so we waited our turn to do business. The vending machine guy was refilling his machines at the moment, and it was a little hard to pull Owen away from his place of observation. Mrs. Beth had everything ready, invoice included, and had figured a price that left Owen a little money to rattle in his bank. She and I counted the rolling coins, and the transaction was made official.I saved the invoice, made out in Owen’s name. When he is older, I think he will understand better the gift Mrs. Beth gave him, which was more than a 75% discount and a glimpse of her heart. For now, he is just enjoying the hay baler.

And here's a little glimpse of what the other two kids were doing: holding hands after fighting.

Shadows

2011-05-05T12:44:00.002-04:00

I took this picture last December, a few days after my nephew Bryce was born, at a time when I felt thick pain all around me, as if it were a physical substance. It was everywhere I turned--I bumped into it in my kitchen as I was struggling to remember how to cook. I heard it in the surface chatter of friends.

I was also clinging to God as never before. No, let me say that I remember realizing that I couldn't even hold on--I had to trust him not to let me go. In those still, painful moments of quiet before God, He began to speak His truth to my heart. I felt his discipline, but I also felt his unfathomable love.

And so when I looked out from my kitchen window and saw that the suffocatingly grey sky had been transformed by the light piercing through the clouds and spilling itself over the dull earth, I was moved to tears. There is beauty in shadow.

Can't Believe It

2011-04-20T09:01:00.002-04:00

We took a new step in parenting the other day when four-year-old Helen showed me this:I could even see the adult tooth barging its way into her mouth, the pushy thing!She toyed with her tooth for over a week, and finally when it was hanging off her gumline, I convinced her to pull it. Her timid, feathery attempts were cute and short-lived, and then she turned the job over to me. So proud!I often tell my kids to stop growing. They know I'm joking with them. It's both sad and wonderful that they're getting older, bigger and more complex.

For the record, Owen has had two wiggly bottom front teeth for the past several months, and it surprised my socks off to have Helen lose one first!

300th Post!!

2011-04-19T10:07:00.002-04:00

Blogger Dashboard tells me this is a monumental post, so I'm sharing some recent kid-quotes to help me celebrate.

Jack:

"Mom, I told the tea not to hop out." (He had been exploring the fridge and its contents.)

After passing gas, "My buns popped!"

"I don't like mouse's tracks." (After getting his hand caught in a mouse trap.)

"My shie's untooed!!" (A double knot doesn't always keep that shoe lace neat.)

Favorite song: "The House is a Rocket," or "Cows in a Rocket," by Stevie Ray Vaughn. ("The House is Rockin'")

Favorite music artist: Blinkin' Rooster (Lincoln Brewster)

Favorite Bible story: Peter and the Rooster

Helen:

On her Sunday School lesson: "God told...uh....somebody...to bang on a rock with his cricket, and he did, and water fell out of it, and there was enough water for everybody."

parcort = carport

Princesscola = Pensacola

spoom = spoon

At night: "I hear a mower." Daddy--"A MOWER?!" Helen--"I'm making a mower sound with my snot!"

"Mommy, when I grow up and get married and have a baby, my baby is gonna not die."

With a true sparkle in her eye: "When I grow up, I am going to marry James, because he is NOT my cousin." (Watch out, Ava!!)

"Mom, I like my dad. And I like my mom."

Owen:

"Mom, we don't say 'Oh my God.'
We don't say 'Oh my gosh.'
Well, we could name a boy 'Josh,' and then, could we say 'Oh my Josh'?
No. That would sound funny."

After getting into candy that was off-limits and enduring the discipline: Mom--"What were you thinking when you saw the gumdrops?" Owen--"YUMMY!!!!"

"Mom, are you sad about Quinn?" Me--"Yes. Are you?" O--"No! I am happy!" Me--"Why?" O--"Because she is in Heaven!!"

precious kiss = Hershey's Kiss

After a quiz session on Kindergarten content, "Am I catching up to you?"

Hearing the story of Peter's denial of Jesus, "Was the rooster Peter's spanking?"

"You're a nice mom. I like you."

Gifts for My Newest Nephew

2011-04-05T10:52:00.003-04:00

I love living in the South, but I sure miss my family back in the Midwest, especially when new babies arrive! Fortunately, I got to greet my brand new little nephew Deacon Liam over Christmas. He sure was a sweetie, and I think he still his, although he probably needs some Aunt Joyce kisses to keep him in line.

This was my welcome gift to him:

And a follow-up gift in the mail, because things got too crazy around Christmas to finish it then:

The Growing Awareness of Others, Kindergarten Version

2011-04-03T17:25:00.005-04:00

Our six-year-old, Owen, has loved every day of Kindergarten. Most schools around here require uniforms, and his school is no exception. I love uniforms! We bought three pairs of pants and three shirts at the beginning of the year, and we'll make it through to the end, too, with only an inch or two of sock showing.
When the order form for school spirit clothing came home in Owen's backpack, the very first thing I noticed was the extremely high price of expressing spirit. In fact, I may have snorted my coffee through my nose or something like that. I couldn't get past my feelings over the cost, but I wanted Owen to be able to have a mascot shirt. I did what any other crafty mama would have done; I stenciled my own version of the ACS Ram on a plain blue t-shirt I just happened to have hanging in my sewing room. It more than satisfied Owen. He was very pleased.

And then, he started noticing all the other kids who wore Atmore Christian hoodies, and we began to hear a new theme around our house. Owen wanted his own, very specific hoodie. We knew what he wanted it to say. We knew what picture it was supposed to have on the front. We knew it needed to have a string *right here* like the big kids. And then, the naming of the cousins who had Atmore Christian hoodies began. With that came more questions of why their parents had chosen to buy hoodies.

Finally I borrowed a card from my sister in law, and told him he could have one if he paid for half out of his chore money. Oh, the joy in that kid's heart! I had some excitement too, because it was golden motivation for completing his work.

He saved his money, and the big day finally came, just in time for a too-warm-for-a-hoodie spring. His daddy took him into the school office. The secretary had a few on hand, and Owen came home looking like the cat that ate the cream. Here's another picture of that proud boy. He had changed for P.E. and put that hoodie right back on!

Slightly unrelated, but every once in a great while, Owen will fall asleep during his Saturday afternoon rest. I couldn't resist taking his picture.
His little sister Helen was amused at how solidly he was sleeping.

A Closer Look

2011-02-28T09:08:00.003-05:00

Here is a close-up of that wallpaper in the stairwell.
It was installed in the late 70s, as was the carpet:Sometimes I need a reminder of how far we have come in our remodeling. (I refused to walk on this carpet barefoot.)Can you see why wallpaper scares me?

Old Post: New Oven

2011-02-25T12:30:00.005-05:00

Sometime in the aftermath of Quinn's birthday, when everyone was bringing us meals, I realized my old oven had quit. One friend brought me a dish that needed some baking time, and when she got here, my preheated oven was still cold. Since I had had absolutely enough out of that beastly appliance that continually heated up the kitchen and set off my smoke alarm, I wasn't interested in any diagnostic testing, and I'm quite sure had we had it looked at, any serviceman would have laughed himself silly over us. It was, of course, 32 years old. Not that that is a bad thing.

I have a second old oven in the basement, so I wasn't without a paddle, but after a while, the trips up and down the stairs to check on my food's progress got annoying, not to mention dangerous when I was carrying hot pizza back up the steps, blindly dodging kids and toys.

So Jason measured our cabinets and went to the appliance store. It's such a small wall space that we had only two choices in one brand--regular or self-cleaning. We did what any self-respecting, hurried homeowners would do. We bought the self-cleaning variety.

The oven had to be special ordered, since no other Atmore resident in a right state of mind would install such a tiny thing. Jason still had to modify a top cabinet to make room for the oven, and he hired a cousin to make new doors for it.

George the appliance man delivered our Frigidaire one exciting afternoon. I was happy, but immediately skeptical of one thing, the thing that had been bugging me since before the oven was even a twinkle in Jason's eye.

Sure enough. My favorite pans wouldn't fit. Not even close. Bless my heart. I had been volunteered to make a fancy dessert for a Christmas gathering, and I chose a chocolate cake roll. It had been a long several years since I had baked my recipe, so a few details were cloudy. I chose my smaller jelly roll pan, which was a mistake.
When you're pressed for time and have to make a decision on your feet, Cool Whip folded into melted chocolate chips is a clever disguise for a dessert flop. (I didn't have time to take pictures of the ugly-but-delicious finished product.)

And I'm still getting to know my new friend, who can be a little uneven tempered, and possesses an overall maladjusted, narrow outlook. But I bought some new pans, and everyone is making nice, even the smoke alarm, which has only squawked three or four times.
P.S. How d'you like my stairwell wallpaper?

Mmm...Smells Like Lacquer in Here!

2011-02-21T18:41:00.002-05:00

Four long years of mattresses on the floor have finally come to an end with the delivery of our brand-new bed today! I'm just so happy, I don't know how to act. I feel like a real, true adult now. New furniture can do that to you.Jason worked on this project off and on for a couple of weeks, with the help and tools of a cabinet maker across the road from us. I am so proud of him! (Aren't you proud of him?) I printed a picture of what I wanted, sketched a few details, gave some measurements, and he did it!
My Dad lent a hand too. He and Jason mixed three different colors of stain to grant my picky-picky wish.
I should have removed the boxes of Kleenex and stacks of running magazines before I took pictures, but the room is a lot cleaner than it normally is. And look! I'll be able to reach my lamp all calm and sophisticated-like now, instead of heaving myself skyward, flailing for the switch. Ooh.

Sweet dreams!

About that Drug Test

2011-02-14T00:22:00.003-05:00

After my earlier post, can I just say, "What in the world?"

First of all, I never knew one could purchase such a thing as an at-home drug test. Call me naive, but I've never been in desperate need to know the levels of certain illegal substances in my urine. Second, why would anyone throw that out of a car window? What would make a person say, "Hey, I can't wait to stop driving to pee in this cup!"? Third, I wonder how the "sample" was kept steady. Would it have spilled as the driver swerved to miss a pothole? Isn't texting while driving enough? And how would one go about explaining the need for carpet shampoo to the auto detailer?

Comments, please! I love this.

It's Not Exactly a Gift Registry or Crazy Things I Do for Fun

2011-02-13T22:42:00.007-05:00

It's no secret to most of my friends that I enjoy running. It took me until I was an adult, trying desperately to shed pregnancy pounds, to discover this fabulous way to keep my heart healthy and my buns in check. My husband isn't so much concerned about his buns, but he loves to run too, and we like to race together. And yes, that means we PAY MONEY to wake up early, safety-pin signs to our shirts, stick in earbuds, then sweat and pant alongside a great crowd of other crazies doing the same thing.

We have friends who run too, and in fact were running long before we were, so we know we really aren't that weird. OK, at least we're not alone in our weirdness.

Last Saturday, we ran Pensacola's Double Bridge Run, which is a 15K (9.3 mile) distance that begins close to historic downtown, goes across a 3-mile bridge, over Gulf Breeze island, another bridge, and then ends at the beach. Since I was not in 15K shape this year, I opted for the 5K. See Lisa? She's well over 20 weeks pregnant! (And she's still faster than I am.) Her husband Jason chose to chauffeur us to our start lines and be on Daddy duty instead of competing. Post-race, he also did a great job of maneuvering to the nearest Krispy Kreme and buying a box of hot.

Here's Jason, getting pumped up for one last trip to the porta-potty before the gun. The poor dear looks so cold!
And here the two of us are after the finish. We had long cooled off, and had begun to freeze again, but we were happy because each of us had pulled off a new PR (personal record.)Racing is always fun, but training is not. I've had to rebuild my fitness since Quinn was born, since I was a huge slacker during the last half of the pregnancy, and the road has not always been an adrenaline-pumping success. I'm still working on endurance, but I've come a long way. One of my current challenges is fighting boredom. My body can run for a long time, but my mind can get pretty tired of it. And so.........

a tried-and-true remedy? I've started collecting! It's quite amazing what people toss out of their vehicles. Among the fast food wrappers, beer cans and at-home drug tests, there are some treasures.

My first (and most exciting) find was an aluminum 9x13 pan. At first sight I passed it up, thinking if I still remembered it at the end of my run, I would drive back to retrieve it. Then I thought better of my forgetful self, decided I really wanted that pan, and doubled back. I carried it the last mile and a quarter of my run, switching it from left to right and back again every hundred strides. It made the time fly, and I was hooked on collecting!
A few runs later, I found a companion for my pan.It's really not fit for dining use, since the tines are all bent out of shape, but what a great sandbox toy or plant poke or beginnings of a wind-chime!Wednesday I found a perfectly fine bucket to inspire some cleaning. I'll give it to Jason?
And today I found a grapefruit spoon, which is perfectly fitting since we have a huge box of grapefruit sitting in the garage and a shortage of grapefruit spoons.
Who knows what I'll find next run amid the litter? I have no desire to pick up the faux evergreen Christmas garland that has been not decomposing for over a year, nor the red camp chair that has faded to pink, but I'll certainly be keeping my eyes open for new stuff, and in the process, train for our next race!

Dreams of Cupcakes

2011-02-02T22:05:00.003-05:00

After my earlier post about Helen wanting to see Quinn again, my sweet cousin e-mailed me.

"I just read your latest post about your sweet and precious Helen's thoughts and wanted to write you. It got me thinking... I just wonder if it would be appropriate to pray with Helen and ask Jesus for a special dream meant just for her. A dream where maybe she can give Quinn a great big hug and kiss... I don't know. I have just found in our family at least, that there have been times when -as a mom- I don't know how to respond, and sometimes Jesus can take care of things in really creative ways. Does that make sense? You might not be comfortable with that, but it may be something to consider?"

I never would have thought of asking God for something like that. As Jason and I tucked Helen into bed that night, we talked to her about it, then prayed that God would give her a special dream about Quinn.

In the morning, I asked her if she had a dream about her sister.

"Yes," she said, as if I were doubting. "There was a cake and cupcakes and butterflies and sprinkles!"

"Was Quinn still a baby or was she a little girl?"

"She was still a baby."

"What color was her hair?"

"Brown." Then, "She didn't have any hair!"

We tried not to suggest anything with our questions, but since it wasn't our experience, we didn't really know what to ask or think. She is not characterized by lying, and furthermore, her details stayed the same all day.

She was very happy about her dream, and we reasoned that cupcakes and sparkles are the happiest things that Helen can think of. Maybe God used Helen's own personal symbols of happiness to communicate to her the excitement of Heaven, and that Quinn is having a great time there.

More Freezer Paper Stencils to the Rescue

2011-02-02T21:30:00.004-05:00

This fall I snatched up some long-sleeved shirts for Helen at a discount store in town. They were brand new, only fifty cents, or maybe a dollar. Either way, I was glad to pay the puny sum, and thoroughly delighted that they were plain. I over-bought, thinking either of my gift stash, or the way little girls attract stains on their clothing.

When I asked Helen what she wanted me to paint on her shirt, she landed on a strawberry. I tried to influence her toward something more winterish, but her choice was solid. It got complicated when she wanted a letter H too. I sketched some designs, and she chose her favorite.

She was a satisfied customer, especially delighting in the tiny strawberry seeds carved into the stencil and the paint with sparkles.

I didn't make too many Christmas gifts this year, but when my sister-in-law mentioned what she wanted in a new bag for my 2-year-old niece, I got to work ~~right away~~ the night before our gift exchange. I found a plain denim bag at JoAnn and embellished it with a big bow and a monogram. Is that Southern or what?
I also lined it with some of her leftover quilt fabric.
I loved it almost enough to make one for myself.

Four-Year-Old's Thoughts

2011-01-27T22:42:00.003-05:00

Tonight after supper, I sent Helen to the bathtub. I let her soak while I was cleaning the kitchen. Several minutes passed until I checked on her, letting her know I was ready to wash her.

She said, "Mom, I just want to die."

I wasn't sure I heard her correctly, so I asked her to repeat herself.

"Mom, I want to see Quinn again."

Sweetheart.

I explained that Jesus had a different plan for Quinn than He has for her, that He has something special for her to do here on earth while she is alive, something special for her to learn. "And besides," I told her, "Daddy and I would miss you so much, and we would be so sad if you died."

Her solution? "Then our whole family should die together."

Late Christmas Projects

2011-01-15T14:53:00.005-05:00

This Christmas, we filled stockings for the kids. As usual, I wanted to make my own version.

I found the perfect fabric at JoAnn, so perfect in fact that I bought more to make myself a blanket. I drafted a pattern for the stockings, and cut out and sewed one late at night while watching the latest Bond movie. Neither turned out well. I gave up for several days, then finished the other two later. Of course, each stocking needed to be marked with its owner's initial. And once again, no crafting supplies have my heart as much as felt and embroidery floss. Since I've learned to move when inspiration strikes, I scissored up the initials in between adding product to and blow-drying my hair one morning. I used a diamond-shaped cookie cutter as a pattern for the ornament, and frantically sewed them the day the kids opened their stockings.
The cookie cutter pattern gave me an idea:

A gingerbread man in the hand is worth two in the....cookie jar? This poor guy will have to wait a whole year to join the ornaments on my tree, since I made him in January during our Life Group's getaway to Pine Mountain, Georgia.

On our way home from Pine Mountain, we stopped in Auburn for lunch and some shopping. Do you think the kids love their new shirts?

Thinking about...

2011-01-07T13:28:00.004-05:00

...dead babies and crooked landlords.

One gracious hand of God holds us tightly. The other is hidden, for the time being.

"Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
my hope comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
My salvation and my honor depend on God;
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
Trust in him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge."

Psalm 62:5-8

Dress for Bella

2011-01-06T15:09:00.005-05:00

Here's a little dress I made for a friend whose baby girl is due in February.
In my typical last-minute fashion, I was sewing on the buttons as Jason drove to the party. (The little Swiss Army knife scissors in my truck's console has been a lifesaver on more than one occasion.) I've made this pattern before, but it has a few problems. I was extremely satisfied with myself for figuring out some of the kinks, one being that the collar always stuck up funny, and another that the sleeve hems looked frumpy.

Sometimes I am timid to give handmade gifts because I'm afraid they won't be liked. Hit or miss, I still love to make things, and when I make a gift, I'm thinking of and praying for that person. At any rate, I look forward to meeting little Bella some time next month!

Cooking with HIPPY

2010-12-14T14:48:00.004-05:00

This summer, I enrolled Helen in her first non church-related organized event, and this fall she began the HIPPY program in Atmore. And if you wonder what in blue blazes HIPPY is, skip to my link.

Helen was standoffish at first, and dreaded the initial testing. Gradually she warmed up to our home educator, Mrs. Teresa, and now she looks forward to doing a little fun activity with me each day, even though we don't get to it every day.

Most of the lessons are literature-based, and follow the theme of a children's book that we get a copy of, but last week we had a cooking lesson. We took two completely different substances and combined them to make something different. In our kitchen, it was pudding mix and milk. Complicated, I know, but Helen loved it. She even chose the pudding flavor in the grocery store. I opened the box of lemon pudding, poured the milk, and she whisked for a long time while I yakked on the phone. I totally missed the part where we were supposed to taste and feel the separate ingredients. Oops. Then we divided the pudding into espresso cups, and Helen put three snowman marshmallows on each cup. She counted the cups, counted the snowmen in each cup, and counted the total amount of snowmen. It was fascinating for her, and fun for me to see her learn.

Saturday

2010-12-11T09:36:00.003-05:00

Our day began with junk food cereal and Tom and Jerry cartoons, both Saturday morning traditions around here. For the record, Marshmallow Pebbles cereal is a little too junky for my taste. I felt queasy for a long time after my bowl full.
When Jack woke up, his first words were about needing his "scoon." I peeled back the covers in his crib and found my slotted serving spoon, which apparently was his choice sleep aid last night.

I had a hard time leaving last night's memories behind. The moment the hospital came into view, dizzying emotions slammed into me. The parking lot where Jason and I had walked to get my contractions going strong was torn up, making way for new construction. A small blessing.

We visited the labor and delivery wing and dropped off a beautiful white poinsettia for the desk. They hadn't forgotten us.

The grief counselor that had worked with us was finishing her shift. I handed her a blanket I sewed after Quinn was born, along with Quinn's birth announcement, to be given to the next mama that needs it.
And we held Bryce. And it was hard, but it was good.
We felt God's peace in those moments. We still trust that his peace is always near, even when we choose to ignore it and give in to despair.

Patches

2010-12-10T10:19:00.003-05:00

Thank goodness for my large supply of felt and embroidery floss, two of my current favorite sewing supplies. They come in handy when my children get snippy with scissors.

Jack cut a hole in the sleeve of his dump truck shirt. It took me a little bit to think up the solution, but I thought the road sign was an appropriate warning for his sometimes difficult-to-maneuver self.
Helen, age four and fabulous, must have wanted designer gauchos instead of the off-the-rack pair that Aunt Jan found for her. The first time she wore them, much to my shame, she gouged a hole in them on purpose. She confessed, but only after I questioned her. Grrrrr...

And the kitty tore a hole in her beloved snowman jammies. Felt and floss to the rescue!

December 9

2010-12-09T14:26:00.005-05:00

What an emotionally tumultuous day. 3 months ago, we held our precious baby for 1 hour. We're left with a few pictures and memories. We don't have baby spit-up on our shirts. We don't have sleepless, newborn nights. The few rattles scattered on the floor are cat toys.

But we have a God that is good. Our future lies securely in his hands. Nothing comes as a surprise to him. Before Quinn was born, he knew her. He wrote the story of her life, and he wrote himself as the main character. Our arms are aching to hold her, but we know she is safe in heaven.

We swallow hard as we realize God has other stories for other people; it is no use to rant and rail. Our peace lies in accepting the path he chose for us, learning from his Word, and running into his presence.

And so we welcome with joy our sweet nephew, Bryce Andrew, born today, December 9, at the same hospital as Quinn. We plan to meet this new little person tomorrow afternoon. Congratulations, Brent and Janice!

Gotta Love It!

2010-11-18T18:11:00.004-05:00

Jason drove to McCullough to check the fields. Along the way, he saw a mud flap,a rude pumpkin man and a posted sign that was pretty clear, I think.
Although, I wonder if you could sneak a goldfish?

Helen Turns Four!!

2010-11-15T20:32:00.007-05:00

I love celebrating my kids' birthdays, but for some reason, Helen's recent birthday was a hard one for me. The night before, I hovered in her room, telling her and myself this was her last night of being three. I think part of my sadness relates to the fact that we won't know her little sister as a three year old.

Here's the birthday girl on Sunday morning before church, posing nicely with the requested pink princess castle cake. Her sweetness quickly morphed into rocking the world with her silliness. (Motherly roll of eyes.)
The Castle. Those little pink candies are pink Whoppers. I can't bring myself to call them strawberry because the only thing strawberry about them is the picture on the box. After a futile nap attempt, we let the kids lounge while we all watched the New York City marathon and cheered for Meb and Shalane Flanagan.

Helen showed off her cake one more time. I think the most beautiful thing about this picture is the husband vacuuming in the background. Mawmaw was the first guest to arrive, and Jack could not stop belly laughing for the sheer joy of parties.We ate and then opened presents! Grandpa and Grandma Weber hit the jackpot with this preschool workbook. A huge artist's tablet and new paints from Uncle Brent and Aunt Jan were also well received by Miss Can-I-Paint-Mom-Can-I?!!And wonder of wonders--a musical jewelry box with a twirling angel ballerina from Uncle Conrad and Aunt Les! Well. What a pleased four-year-old girl we have!

November 9

2010-11-09T14:27:00.002-05:00

This is kind of a cruddy day for me, since it marks two months since Quinn came and went. I've been writing down all the events and emotions that were crammed into that time, but it takes a good bit of emotional energy to make myself do that, even though I know it is important. I was back in Quinn's room this morning, journaling about how we had to tell our other children the sad news.

For six hours one Thursday morning, we had four children. Now how am I supposed to answer the get-to-know-you question "How many kids do you have?" The first time, it took me by complete surprise. "Three," I stammered to the clerk at the pharmacy, and then ran for the door. I don't remember if I put on a bright smile for her or not, but I know the tears were streaming as soon as I hit the parking lot.

My mom called this morning and asked how I was doing. She had some other sad news for us. A cousin lost her baby this morning, mid-way through pregnancy. It seems everywhere we turn right now, people we know are facing unexpected outcomes with their babies. I don't have a lot of words to say about it. God, help us.

I cannot collect all my thoughts and emotions, but one thing I know: God is holy.

Whew. I can't stay too long in an emotionally heavy moment, so I'm posting some pictures that make me laugh. Here's Owen, being his goofy self. There is no love of a pose in this boy's heart, although he is acutely interested in seeing himself in my camera window.
Here's Jack, looking like he's ready for shuffleboard. Meet you after coffee?
And Helen, with the pink princess castle cake she wanted for her birthday.

Felt Hair Clips

2010-11-08T09:57:00.002-05:00

These clips went to a sweet little friend who has the cutest, most seemingly alive hair. Helen was plastered to my side while I made them, scattering her opinions and questions. It was sweet, until I needed elbow room. (The kids are still learning about personal space.)

Six Years Old!

2010-11-04T14:38:00.008-05:00

Our kids are always happy when there is a birthday to celebrate. They are abundantly happy when there is a birthday amongst our own household! Owen turned the Big 6 on October 19.
The younger two and I took cupcakes into his class on his special day. Helen quickly figured out which classmates were which, as she has been salivating over every word of Owen's school descriptions since Day 1.

The birthday supper took place in the back of my truck, complete with the birthday banner and presents.Tailgate suppers are what happens when Daddy is playing in the dirt.Peanut harvest has most everyone wishing that their houses weren't downwind.
We celebrated with more family members later in the week, when I made Owen's cake. I had some cake batter testers in my kitchen to ensure all ingredients were properly measured.
The cakes had multiple tunnels in them. Can I blame my kids' involvement? That would be nice. Unfortunately, I don't need help to screw up a cake mix. Or Jell-O. All the same, I chose to decorate the cake after everyone under four feet tall was tucked into bed. The next morning brought a jealous admirer and an enthusiastic birthday boy.
We waited to place the dirt bike until we arrived at the party.

Happy Birthday, Owen! We love you.

2010-11-02T14:12:00.002-05:00

Once upon an afternoon,
our children were happy to be together.

And they all coexisted peacefully ever after.The End

2010-10-14T14:17:00.004-04:00

The thirteenth of October marked one month since Quinn's funeral. That month lived like a year. So much of our thinking has been rearranged, and we're still unsure of ourselves, stumbling on wobbly emotional legs. I'm distrustful of myself in public. I'm relearning how to buy groceries, how to cook, how to avoid diaper ads. Some days are good, and I can tune out the immediate heartbreak. Some days are horrible and I want to give in to the grief and let it swallow me whole. Some days I feel OK, but then I meet a friend in the produce section, and instead of choosing the perfect bunch of bananas, I'm wiping my eyes again.

I find myself having a good morning, but then suddenly getting outrageously angry at small things, like the inept repair of potholes in the road. In the same vein, I might have a tearful day, feeling like I'm going to vomit the whole time, but end the day with laughter around the supper table.

People ask what they can do for us. I don't know. Bring Quinn back.

But please keep praying. Please keep using Quinn's name. Keep asking how we're doing, but be OK with an in-the-moment answer. Some times we want to talk about it, but sometimes we need to forget about the grief for a time.

Kidspeak

2010-10-11T20:04:00.003-04:00

Over a year ago, I began keeping a small notebook for the things my kids say. I've kept that up over the past month, and the entries reflect their thought processes.

Jack
Gwue's Cwues = Blue's Clues
I meed it! = I need it!
No! I just went! = automatic response to the potty question
pockin picker = cotton picker

"I don'wanna talk nice!" (after being reprimanded for whining)

Helen
"Mom, what was that square thing with the windows in it back there? It was on the ground. It was something that you live in and has carpet in it." (I figured out later it was an abandoned roofless building.)

"Mommy! I'm obeying the TROOF in the truck! I am just growing up. In the bathroom I was thinking--and I was sooooo tall."

yong = yawn
clown = crown

"Mom, is Quinn's body at her grave, under the ground? And even her face and her eyes?.....I wish we should have another baby girl named Quinn." Parental explanation. "Well, I wish we should have another baby girl with a different name."

"I need a Q-tip to check my teeth. Q-tips are for your teeth to make a lever."

Owen
On Quinn:
"Did the ears on her body hear you?"
"Is Quinn going to drink milk from Paw Paw?" ????!!!!!
"Are there numbers on the houses in heaven? What is Quinn's number?"
"Is Jesus holding Baby Quinn? Can we call him?"

While being tucked into bed: "Mommy, I think you need to get out of here. You are talking to me too much."

Lately

2010-10-05T15:45:00.002-04:00

Abandon yourself to the nap!

Naps are located in the top drawer of my coping toolkit. They are especially useful as we're shooing away the flu virus. (Yes, one faint positive flu swab at the doctor's yesterday.)

The Week Before Quinn

2010-09-30T19:46:00.003-04:00

In reminiscing, we realize the week before Quinn came was a blessed time. We had decided to let her come on her own and not induce labor, as we had with our other babies. We trusted God to work out the timing. I have to admit I was extremely frustrated as my due date came and went, and each day after held its own struggle of acceptance.

I used the time to finish getting a few things ready for Quinn. I whipped up a blanket for her to match her diaper bag. I painted her monogram on her wall art.One day while sitting in front of my sewing machine, I was irritated with whole world, as only a 9-month-pregnant woman can understand. It seemed as if right then God whispered to me that this day was a gift for me to enjoy. I suddenly realized that Helen and Jack were playing happily together in the baby room, it was a beautiful day outside, I had a schedule cleared of any outside responsibilities and there was peace in my home. I had all this time to be creative, to live in the moment, and here I sat, grumpy and irritable. It changed my thinking, and I quickly made a little mattress and quilt to fit my old doll crib that we had put in Quinn's room, enjoying every moment.

The last Sunday before she was born, we went to church. Before we left, the whole family naturally gravitated toward Quinn's room. Owen took a belly shot of me.
Jason took another one.We goofed off until it was time to leave.
Jack loves the "two babies" that were mine when I was little. My Mom reminded me that they came from my cousin Andy. So thanks, Andy, and forgive me if I never sent you a thank-you note back when I was 2 or 3 or 1.
We tried Jack's new shoes on him, my Economy Shop find of the month. American made, leather upper, I forget what brand, hardly worn, for a little bit of nothing. There's obviously still room for growth.
Owen loves to show off the fan and light switches. It's his little piece of control.

And Helen, mostly sunshine that day.

There is no doubt that Quinn's room is our favorite room in the whole house. Jason worked so hard at finishing the walls and ceiling in time. Our family gathers there for prayer at night. It feels like a sanctuary.

On Our Way to the Funeral Home

2010-09-21T10:27:00.002-04:00

How do you choose a burial outfit for your baby? A terrible question. One I asked my friend, who 3 1/2 weeks before Quinn was born, gave birth to a sweet little baby boy with Trisomy 18. He lived for almost 2 hours.

Lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place. Or is that just made-up saying we quote to reassure ourselves against disaster?

I think we all would much rather recite the Lord's Prayer metaphorically than actually walk through the valley of the shadow of death ourselves.

Nothing in Quinn's closet was appropriate. Most of it was hand-me-downs from Helen that I couldn't bear to lose. I didn't have time to sew anything. While I was crying to Jason about it, he gently suggested I make the dress, stating that if I was going to sew for her, now was my chance. We begged God for help.

I found the perfect piece of material in my stash, in a box from cousin Heather. I had been saving it for something special. I closed myself in Quinn's nursery and carefully cut the pieces from the pattern.

Then Life happened--exhaustion set in, kids bickered, visitors came, meals were served and conversation took over. My mom offered to sew the dress if I trusted her enough. I gladly let her.

We tweaked the dress, turning up cuffs and adding rosebuds to the collar. I found a ribbon from my baptismal dress that made a perfect sash.

We knew the tiny dress would swallow Quinn whole, but we also knew it wouldn't be seen. It was the act of making that was therapeutic.

The dress was finished just before our appointment at the funeral home. I got a few quick pictures.

Plastic Thank-Yous

2010-09-16T11:34:00.003-04:00

"Thank you for your kind expression of sympathy" sounds sterile and pathetic. How do you thank people for loving you so well through their actions--buying paper supplies for meals and cheese balls for the kids, cleaning the house, washing embarrassingly dirty windows, mowing the overgrown yard, laundering the contents of smelly hampers, bringing platters of chicken wings, buckets of fresh fruit and foil pans of lasagna, flying from out of country, feeding the fish, running after toilet paper and cereal, taking and arranging pictures of our little girl, cleaning up after crazy family meals, going to the funeral home with us and listening to us spell the names of our deceased grandparents, sewing a burial dress, softening the visual impact of a tiny baby casket, sending a huge arrangement of the most tiny, delicate pink roses to the graveside, singing "Safe in the Arms of Jesus" just the way I heard it in my head all that long, terrible first day, and making a funeral so....beautiful?

People love much and well. Thank you for all you have done.

Quinn Ruthie, September 9, 2010

2010-09-12T11:29:00.002-04:00

Quinn was born at 3:02 am after an easy delivery. She could not breathe on her own. Because of expert medical intervention, she was able to live for almost six hours. We held her alive for almost an hour. It was a precious time, and we were full of awe. She was beautiful, and she smelled so good.Her heart rate became slower and slower. She was peaceful for the entirety. We don't know exactly when she slipped away, but we suspect it was while I was holding her.

We loved you with all our hearts, Quinn!

Grieving

2010-09-10T23:53:00.001-04:00

Today we left our dead baby at the hospital and drove home with a silent back seat.

Window Solution

2010-09-04T11:37:00.010-04:00

Around 15-17 years ago, when Jason's grandpa and grandma still lived in this house, they bought a hot tub for health reasons.

That independent clause makes me smile.To make room for the tub, they added a room to the house, right off the master bath. It served its purpose, but the room was never an inviting space. By the time we moved in, it needed major repairs. We delayed the project, more pressing needs catching our attention. Baby #4 forced our hand.

It had been my dream to repair the leaky valves in the tub, make over the room and create a little retreat, but in the bright light of practicality, we sold the jacuzzi to a[nother] young farmer for $100. Jason's dad helped him extract the tub. It was a feat that required a whole wall removal. Even Henny Penny was impressed.

They then installed new, beautiful windows. We hired a friend to do some exterior work that Jason didn't have time to do--a new roof!--and then Jason and Jim hung new siding. They had plenty of help.

When my parents came down this past spring, we put Dad to work. Up to that point, we still weren't sure how we were going to finish the walls. We had kicked around the idea of corrugated tin, and I hadn't decided about the exposed brick, but we ended up going with good ol' sheetrock on all four walls, and reserving our pine floor boards leftover from the whole house remodel for the ceiling.
Once again, lots of help was present.

Dad and Jason had a great idea for the interior window that no longer served any purpose. I cannot tell a lie: watching it being removed gave me great satisfaction. (Picture wide grin of mouth with exposed teeth, sucking in of breath and clapping of hands three times quickly in succession, Aunt Mary Jane style.) It had been one of those decorating nightmares that I had tried to ignore. I mean, what do you do with a dysfunctional, useless window to nowhere? Hang a curtain? I didn't even clean it, I was so annoyed with it.I loved their idea, and Jason worked hard on the carpentry. Here's the completed window project--Bathroom side and baby room side! The changing table is directly under the shelf in the baby room.
Now it's one of my favorite parts of both rooms. From shame to glory!

Tales from the Fritz Files

2010-09-01T12:22:00.005-04:00

Little Fritz-man has finally discovered how to use a chair to his advantage. Chair events have included one in his room to select his preferred shoes of the day, and one by my key cupboard to obtain my truck keys for his own pocket. This means my two-year-old clomps around the house with huge blue crocs on the wrong feet and real keys in his waistband.

This was one day before lunch. He was hungry, and took matters into his own hands. I only know that there had been less than half a bag of chocolate chips left. He had the number down to two when I found him.
It's fun to observe his imagination. One Friday, Owen came home from school with the most obnoxious prize ever--a noisemaker. Jack seized the toy upon its owner's abandonment, and it became Mr. Eddie's airplane, complete with loud sound effects.
Mr. Fritz gets quite silly at bedtime, when sleepiness starts to set in. This particular evening, he found the stickers and the Mr. Potato Head glasses. I confess I put the sticker on his schnoz, but he loved it, and left it until the next morning.

He cried when I removed it. The extraction didn't hurt him; he was just sad to say goodbye.Here he is, back in his culinary perch. Jack is extremely comfortable up on the counter when I am baking. This was a batch of mocha whoopie pies, inspired by my sister-in-law's amazing creation of yester-month. Licking beaters is an amazing event. I usually attempt a sneak-slip into the sink before the kids know what is going on, but this time I folded to his cuteness. It took him a while to glean every morsel, and even then I had to...err...coax him to relax his grip. Jack's other hobbies include unsolicited ketchup and mustard retrieval, starting the VCR and kitty dunking in the bathtub.

Waiting

2010-08-30T14:52:00.004-04:00

Thursday is the due date.

Unfortunately, I have a feeling that she'll be like most of my library books--overdue. So, in the meantime...

While the Older is Away, the Younger Two Play

2010-08-30T14:24:00.005-04:00

They are the best of friends,
they are the worst of friends.

But regardless of how they feel and what they do, they leave a footprint.Don't you love how the corn settled into the door mat?

Whereupon I spend a Saturday afternoon sniffing glue

2010-08-17T20:54:00.006-04:00

Saturday was restless. It rained off and on. The kids were nutso from being away from home the day before. Jason was tied up with errands for the morning. I had zero motivation. By the afternoon, I was resembling a crazy woman, but fortunately, I was able to hole myself away in the baby room and work on a few decorating ideas I've had forming.

Jason helped by running on the treadmill in the basement; for some reason, the kids love to play downstairs while he is working out. He also had brought in a ladder for me and hung up a mobile I've been working on for oh, I dunno, two years. I gathered all the other necessary tools
and got to gluing! The good ol' E-6000 did the trick, after the failed attempts of thin gauge wire and needle and thread.
The masking tape held the birdies while the glue dried.

I have to admit, I talked to the birds while I hung them. Didn't I mention approaching crazy? Anyway, what good is a project if you can't take out your frustration on it? Here's another secret: I have favorites.

Thank you, Deb, for posting a link to this birdmobile so long ago!

Here's the good ending to this story: We went out for supper.
And though some of the birds have, uh, a more relaxed posture than I would like, none of them had fallen off the next day.

Coming soon--
the mish-mash of yo-yos.

Mutant Turtle

2010-08-16T08:54:00.002-04:00

Years ago, I picked up a $5 chair on a Saturday morning yard sale. Jason thought I was crazy for even spending that much money on such an ugly thing, but we needed something to sit on! I recovered it, halfway successfully, and it was OK for the guest room. When we found out about baby #4, we knew we would have to renovate our hot tub room and create more space for this sweet little one! But furniture? Help the needy. I robbed the guest room.

Thanks to a fresh coat of paint, and the help of a MUCH more experienced sewing friend who recovered the cushions, I have a new chair! And we like it!

We're not so happy with Little Miss Turtle. Jason's grandpa had made this cute little thing, but it needed an update. This is her second color. The first coat was a little too appley-green, and I was going for chartreuse. We agree that the ribbon and her skirt are wrong, but I'm stuck. I think I took this picture before her second coat of chartreuse, so she's looking a little more perky now. She's also missing her eyes, which are to be reinstalled upon her finish. Is the zebra fabric wrong too? I think my creativity got out of control.

New Diaper Bag, Amy Butler style

2010-08-14T15:32:00.001-04:00

2 1/2 weeks until the due date, and my sewing machine and crafty tools are busy. I finished up this diaper bag at least a month ago, using some fun, new, luscious fabric.

Here's the smart little cell phone pocket. Since I made this same bag for Jack and my phone has changed, (approximately 27 calendar months ago--what's that in technology years?) I double-checked the fit of my new phone, and it was a go.
I included a loop for a diaper bag tag this time.
I also modified the inside slightly by creating a small Velcro pocket for my keys--sorry you can't see it very well! I eliminated the bottle pockets on the inside, since the directions were written in such a way as to seriously compromise the use of other interior pockets. I couldn't find another way to sew them in, so I ditched 'em. I made the cute little changing pad and its drawstring carrying case, but alas, no picture.

If you see my husband carrying this girly-girl diaper bag, just smile and pretend you don't notice that it's not a very manly creation. Unless, of course, you see him without the baby, without me, or any of the other kids, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he's packing his laptop in it. Then, by all means, give him a polite cough.

I give up

2010-07-24T14:28:00.002-04:00

Guess where he learned this trick?

Mirabel

2010-07-22T15:35:00.002-04:00

I love indoor cats! I'm not so much into flea-bitten barn cats, but I have to love those overindulged, spoiled inside cats that arrogantly stalk the house, claim a spot on top of the refrigerator or jump into your lap at their whim, as long as they purr contentedly.

When Jason and I were first married, I considered my home incomplete without a fat cat lounging on the sofa. My husband had other ideas. But later, because of his great love for me and maybe due to some pleading on my part, he deferred to me and procured a nice, big, orange specimen that had already been fixed and declawed. Mort was a great birthday present! And best of all, he won Jason's affection. Mortimer was famous for falling asleep with all fours in the air, usually when company was present. Unfortunately, when we moved to another house, he developed a fascination with the outdoors, and due to his lack of claws, fell prey to some roaming coyotes one night. It was tragic.

Through our ten years, we've gone through several cats, some with better personality than others. Bristow, a hunter at heart, had to eventually be banished. She caught lots of wild animals in her forays outside, and left them headless on our doorstep. The last cat we tried to domesticate was a disaster on four feet who couldn't figure out how to use the litter box. We never figured out whether it was male or female, so we named it Meatball and sent it outside to live. Meatball tried to cross the road one day, and met his/her demise. The kids were unaffected by what might have been to some a tragedy, but there was simply no attachment.

Life with a cat provides endless humor and entertainment, and we missed having one around. So when we found this kitten through a Facebook friend, we jumped at the opportunity.
She came just in time for Father's Day. We named her Mirabel.

So far, she is a very smart kitty. She easily passed the litter box test. She plays energetically. She sleeps curled up in the cutest places. She is very curious about bathtubs. And the kids love her.
Jack especially has taken to her, and will even refill her food bowl, unprompted. Here he is roaring at her.

Some words I have been repeating lately:

"Don't hold the kitty by her neck like that!!!!"
"No, no, NO!!! The litter box is NASTY."
"Stop dumping her water into the litter box."
"Mirabel has enough food now."
And our favorite--"Why is the cat wet?"

Party Party!

2010-07-19T08:59:00.006-04:00

One of the things that is so nice about a two year old, or any young child for that matter, is that they don't really understand that a birthday is supposed to be celebrated on a particular day. Since we already had plans for Jack's actual birthday on June 26, we delayed the big celebration until we could throw some more party in the pot. Jason celebrated the big 3-5 on July 1, and since the Fourth fell nicely on a Sunday this year, we invited the family over for a bit of hoopla.

It took Saturday to make the cake, which was again lifted from the pages of Family Fun. Here is the empty barnyard that Helen helped make. I can't resist the nod to my pun-prone inlaws to say it was desserted. You can all throw pie at me now.
Then the animals gathered. Owen helped with the livestock, mostly in the hopes of candy rejects.
Here's my tell: a can of black olives shoring up the rickety structure. You'd think that being a builder's daughter I would know the importance of a good foundation, but I was just following the magazine instructions.
Here are the birthday boys! Jack had already gotten into the chips, and had to be torn away from the bag. Poor deprived child whose mama hardly ever buys chips!

He extinguished the candles on the first puff.He and cousin Allison had the best seats in the garage. Look at their plates. What in the world?! After supper, there was plenty of hang out time before the Poarch Indians' fireworks, which we watched from our house. The kids roamed the soybean field and raided the blueberry bush.David and Jace brought their new potato gun. The younger ones played with their hands over their ears, never knowing when the next potato would be launched. OK, so it was mostly Helen being fearful. In all of my pictures from that evening, she has her hands clenched over those ears. It reminds me of her response to automatic flushing toilets.
Jack opened his loot, and by the end of the day, was quite spoiled. The favorite was the John Deere truck, trailer and tractor. We had a great evening, and I felt quite spoiled when my mother in law and great aunt Lois washed all the dishes. We love our family!

Jack Jack turns 2

2010-07-18T22:09:00.004-04:00

2 years! Unbelievable! 2 candles on that pancake! What? The days go slowly around here, but the years travel fast. On his big day, Little Man went out for the traditional birthday breakfast with his daddy. We had a special breakfast-for-lunch in his honor, since we had plans with our Life Group that evening. He nailed the candles on the first and second blows.

He loved his new dump truck that we found at Ross for $8. We loved that too. I made rainbow cupcakes for our Life Group's meal. I snatched the idea right out of the Family Fun magazine. Those cute little cupcakes got clouds of whipped cream just before being served.
We are so thankful for Jack! He makes us laugh. Doesn't that pose make your neck hurt?
More pictures of the actual birthday cake to come. Silly Blogger is acting up.

New Dress!

2010-07-18T21:53:00.004-04:00

I love my new non-maternity dress that fits over my big pregnant belly! After the baby comes, I'll just cinch that belt up a little tighter, and the gathers on the skirt will be a clever disguise for the postpartum pudge. Ahem.

I used some super-cheap Walmart clearance knit fabric from my stash that I had bought to practice sewing knits. I've used mostly woven fabrics in my short sewing life, and it was time to learn a new skill. This probably wasn't the easiest pattern to use for that purpose, but it worked. I had used it before, so at least I wasn't struggling with a new pattern for an even bigger headache. I used some non-stretchy iron-on interfacing in the yoke (or whatever you call that part of the bodice other than "neck opening") and the waistband. It helped the fabric keep its shape in those areas where I didn't want the dress to stretch out of proportion. Most importantly and most restrictively, I tried not to rush through the project in an afternoon.

I was 29 1/2 weeks in this picture, but I'm finally posting it when I'm 33 weeks along.

A Story

2010-07-05T14:32:00.002-04:00

Today, as the natives were restless after a late night of feasting and fireworks, I sensed a distraction was necessary. I pulled out an activity I remembered from my 1st grade class--collective story writing.

Only Owen was interested. Helen hollered about her paper being bent and Jack scattered chalk. Here is the result:

Once upon a time there was a squirrel named Owen. Owen liked to work on the baby room, because he was going to get a new baby sister squirrel. The new baby's name was Helen. One day as Owen was working on the baby room, he saw some acorns. So he dropped his wood and his chop saw and fell out of the window. He scampered to the acorns, picked them off the tree and brought them home for supper. The End.

By Owen and Mommy

Proud of You!

2010-06-25T16:54:00.004-04:00

For most of the population, correct speech formation comes naturally, but Owen has had to work long and hard for every consonant sound he's learned. He's had countless speech therapy sessions, starting before he was three years old, from a total of three different agencies. Two years ago, he had a pharyngeal flap surgery to help reduce his nasal air escape. It has not been easy, and he has not always been willing, but sometimes you have to reflect on where you've come from to appreciate where you are!

We are so proud of him for mastering the "K" and "G" sounds! It's been a long time coming. He was promised a new Leapster game when it happened. That was not a forgotten promise by any of us, and when the sounds started slipping out of his mouth, his request became very specific--a "Racecars" Leapster game. He got his game on Friday morning.

Before we bought the reward, he said lovingly in my ear, "Mom, I'm so proud of you and Dad for getting me a new Leapster game."

Yard Chicken

2010-06-21T15:23:00.004-04:00

Instead of the expected dog or a cat for a pet, my children have one goldfish, Fred, whom they don't care about, and Henny Penny, the quirky chicken that roosts on the back porch.*

Henny Penny is a Rhode Island Red that was pecked to near death by the other chickens in the pen. Jason rescued her from their beaks and freed her to roam in the yard. After weeks of dazed, skittish pecking about the grass and keeping somewhat close to us humans, she laid her first egg. I don't remember where that first egg turned up, but she now has a preferred laying spot.When we hear Henny Penny's characteristic pre-egg bawk-bawking, we open the garage door so she can get in to lay her precious. Sometimes she even flaps against our sliding door to let us know it's time.

Following her loud post-egg clucking, the kids will check to see what she's produced. They love to discover that small, clean, warm egg. Jack shouts, "Hay-Penny AI!!" We pulled in the other day mid-act. We waited around, but she was too shy.

*We now have a kitten added to the mix, but it's only been two days. Pictures to come.

Freezer Paper Fan

2010-06-19T15:45:00.004-04:00

My shopping trip the other day was a bunch of fun, except that I was worn out when I was only halfway done. WHAT?!!? I know!! What has become of me? I don't like seeing cash leave my purse, and I knew I had work to do at home. I got a few stores in, hit the Taco Bell drive-thru, and in spite of the napkin tucked into my seatbelt, dropped the last bite of burrito on my white maternity shirt. Lovely.

The new fabric store was definitely a good one, though. I had a few ideas in mind for the nursery and for a framed picture in the living room, and even had my inspiring pictures riding in the buggy, but got overwhelmed by all the excellent choices of fabric. I chose some bolts that just happened to be 60% off, and purchased some yardage for a new diaper bag. I'm still waffling on new curtains and crib bling for the baby room. The practical me tells me to use the white stuff I have, since the baby doesn't care. The creative me wants something totally different. *Sigh.* I know I can't justify spending a ton of money on my decorating pride. It's like eating the leftovers in the fridge instead of going out for supper. So dull, but so necessary.

Because I was weary of shopping, the hot pink fabric paint on my list got postponed until another day and another fresh Joann's coupon. That freezer paper stencil is still is my mind, however.

Instead, here's another one I finished:
It was my trickiest stencil so far, and I'm not completely happy with it, but Owen absolutely loves his fan shirt!

Mending

2010-06-18T22:38:00.001-04:00

Little Boy Jack, in all of his inquisitive cuteness, had a mishap the other day. I didn't find the evidence until I was dropping him off at Grandma's house. In the middle of his nice play shirt, there it gaped--a neatly cut hole. Owen and Helen then informed me that Jack had been playing with Owen's school scissors. Who knew an almost 2 year old could use a dull child's scissors to such effectiveness?
I called on some dormant creativity to help me mend it. A rummage around the sewing room produced a leftover scrap of orange fleece and some perfectly matching embroidery thread.
Helen was concerned that I forgot the other eye.
Now Jack has a shirt to match his mischievous nature.

New Inspiration

2010-06-11T08:43:00.002-04:00

I'm nearly ready to head out the door, but just had to share some inspiration. I stumbled across this idea last night, and can't wait to try it. My embroidery skills aren't that great, but they are fake-able. I'm planning to check out a (new for me) fabric shop, looking for ideas for Baby Girl's nursery. I hope I'll find something I can't leave behind.

My alarm clock didn't keep me from sleeping last night, but my late cup(s) of coffee did. I had some crazy dreams, one of which involved me pulling a very conspicuous hair out of homemade pizza dough at a make-your-own pizza supper that someone I refuse to name was hosting. I'm still cringing. Another, which I will choose to dwell on, left me with an absolutely fabulous idea for a new freezer paper stencil. Bright pink fabric paint is now on my list.

Time flies, especially if you're an alarm clock

2010-06-10T23:34:00.003-04:00

If there's one thing I hate, it's an annoying alarm clock. The blaring start to the day can trigger some instant rage, and my arm goes a-whacking for the snooze. I'm an extremely light sleeper, and Jason is not, so when it's HIS alarm going off, well, sometimes I have to apologize for my rude shoves.

A long time ago, before the overhaul of the downstairs bedrooms, I bought new, grown up, non-battery-operated alarm clocks for guests to use. Not long after, our remaining travel alarm clock surrendered to its regular beatings, so one of the new clocks migrated up to Jason's side of the bed. Since I don't have very good uncorrected vision, I wanted a closer target to squint at in the middle of the night if I awoke for some odd reason, so the other got plunked on my nightstand.

But we soon noticed something funny about these two clocks--they gained time. Every day. We didn't pay much close attention at first, because who notices a minute or two here and there? When we would realize our clocks were wrong, it would be by a good half hour or more. It was easy to blame the kids, because we knew their penchant for clocks and other electronic devices, and we considered Timex to be a trustworthy brand.

Not so much. I got slightly more investigative with it and figured out mine was gaining about 1 1/2 minutes per day. What a nice, polite amount of time, hmm? Not over-indulgent, just a slight mincing of my getting ready time, a little nudge-nudge to hurry it up in there already. But 1 1/2 minutes a day turns into nearly 10 minutes a week, and if I reset my alarm clock as often as I dust my bedroom furniture, it could quickly become an hour or more--fast! I'm all for setting clocks a little speedy, but the changing time has been getting on my nerves.

I'm going shopping tomorrow after my 28-week check up and lovely glucose tolerance test, and as much as I hate plunking money down for a new set of alarm clocks, I just might. I am that fed up.

An Afternoon on the Farm

2010-04-30T14:43:00.006-04:00

Two weeks ago, on a gorgeous southern Sunday afternoon, our family had the chance to visit our county extension agent at his home in Fruitdale, in Washington County. We enjoyed the trip there, traveling south and then north again to get around the Mobile River delta. The extremely rural South is most definitely beautiful.

Mr. Richard welcomed us with some bags of bread and crackers to feed the poultry. The guinea were amusing to me. I had never seen any before. Their bodies are shaped like tanks, but they have skinny little necks. They were friendly and noisy. We asked about the eggs they lay, and found out that the shells are so hard, they can fall out of a tree and not break.

Tom the turkey was quite impressive. He and his mistress, Ruby, strutted around the property. He would gobble back when we gobbled at him.

We moved along to see the goats next, but stopped to pet the horses and mules on the way there.Along the way, we fed the mama horse with her brand new baby colt. He was still skittish, since he hadn't been around people very much yet. Helen's hand was so little, she had to have help to hold out corn.The pasture was planted in clover. It was just beautiful.We waited while Mr. Richard called the goats. Their charge was like an epic battle scene. We stood our ground. Owen had really warmed up to the animals by now, and held out lots of corn on his own.Helen loved it too.And so did Jack.We tramped onward to see the baby goats.Otis the Billy Goat was a constant, close companion.As was this pretty nanny. Isn't she a looker?! We held some babies. Their squeals at being caught weren't like what I had imagined the polite bleating of a goat to be. I think I will need to adjust my animal sounds when reading to the children.

I never knew goats were so cute!
Jack was in wonderment.So was another kid."High on a hill stood a lonely goatherd..."
This proud rooster strolled by us. After we checked the chickens and gathered the eggs, we went inside to the incubator to welcome some new little chicks to the world.
The kids were amazed and a little confused. Since we don't have a rooster amongst our chickens at home, all the eggs are infertile. One of the kids' theories was that roosters lay the eggs with the baby chicks in them.

I cringed repeatedly and apologized to the baby chicks for all the rough handling, but we learned that for the first 24 hours of their lives, they are extremely resilient. After the first day, they become fragile. At least I had that knowledge to keep me from panicking...too much. The baby chicks held our attention for a great long while.Mr. Richard brought Rudy, the miniature horse, for some quick rides.
We stayed for a very nice supper, then went on our way home with 4 new chickens and a goose egg.

We had such a great time, and hope to go back again to see our new animal friends (and Mr. Richard.)

Easter Makey-Makey

2010-04-29T14:50:00.005-04:00

I started Helen's Easter dress several weeks before Easter. I finished it several days before Easter. And now I'm posting about it nearly a month later.

I used fabric from my stash. The bias tape around the neck and sleeve holes was vintage; the zipper was also truly vintage, all thanks to my sister-in-law Leslie's late grandmother. The zipper even happened to have been used already, but carefully removed and saved by the same grandma. I chose to be slightly amused, but simultaneously grateful that I didn't have to speed to a fabric store to buy one.It needed something else, so I messed around with the leftover bias tape from the hem. I didn't have quite enough to make a rosette, so I ended up adding a few buttons and beads from my stash to make a pin.

We got a few snapshots of the family before the kids dropped food on their clothes from lunch and fell apart from needing naps.That afternoon we got together with family for an egg hunt and Easter dinner. I made Easter Egg Bread, which was more of a novelty recipe than a dying-to-eat-that-one-again recipe. At least it looked pretty! The leftovers made an excellent bread pudding.The bunny ended up as part of an egg, ham and potato casserole.

A Seasonal First

2010-04-20T23:31:00.004-04:00

I just finished unclogging my camera yesterday; fortunately, it wasn't anything similar to unclogging the kitchen drain, which we also did yesterday. Wow. I still want to scrub the inside of my nose out with a Brillo pad. When the garbage disposal makes the stuff you put down the previous day bubble up into the other sink, you know it's time to get the ol' snake out. Thank goodness for a husband who was sympathetic enough to stop work for an hour and come to my immediate rescue! But all that was an aside, and hopefully not a seasonal first.

Several weeks ago the kids enjoyed the first ice cream cone of the year. They didn't care that it was a cheap-o box of Joy cups and not-so-premium (but totally free) bucket ice cream. They licked and chomped their way through, then of course, begged for more. That's when this Momma was grateful for the "You've had your limit!" phrase. Ice cream tastes so much better when you're surrounded by friends!
And do you think Jack loved his very first ice cream cone ever (in my memory)?

Pasta Night!

2010-03-18T22:18:00.006-04:00

Several weeks ago, I braved the inevitable mess, and brought out the pasta machine. I had written "fresh pasta" on the menu, and I wasn't in the mood to back down from my inked commitment. Since I'm a messy pasta maker and drop a lot of it, the first step is cleaning the kitchen floor. I swept it thoroughly.

I managed to sneak the mixing of the dough past the boys, but Helen caught me right away and dragged a chair squeaky-screechy across the floor to help. Flour, salt and eggs. Maybe a little EVOO? Can't remember.

By the time I was ready to roll out the first quarter of the dough, Owen was keenly aware of what was happening. He and Helen were to swap roller duties off and on, but to Owen's great delight, Helen lost interest after her first turn.

It really is tricky to make noodles by yourself anyway, so I embraced the mess. We whooped and made up silly songs. All three kids ate as much pasta as they could get their fingers on. It was an extremely happy occasion in the life of a young child.

The finished product is always satisfying to behold. The kids agree.

Jack was content on the floor with some heavy duty equipment.

And everyone helped clean up! I may have turned on a TV program so I could finish properly, but who knows, it's such a fuzzy memory.

Lots of fun, but I probably won't do it again for a little while!

Oogly Boogly

2010-03-17T21:30:00.004-04:00

My sister in law recently redecorated her boys' room, and called me in for a special project. She sent me some links to what she wanted, and I got busy. Both boys loved the pillows, and each claimed two right away. My kids enjoyed the making of the monsters, but didn't request their own, though I did save the patterns....

And now for some successful sewing

2010-03-16T16:03:00.002-04:00

Oooookay. After that last post, I think I need to remind myself of projects that have turned out better. After winning an apron I made for a Dirty Santa exchange,

a friend of mine hired me to make a similar one for her daughter. The pleasure was all mine! I think her fabric choice was really cute.

Another friend asked me to sew something sweet for her little darling out of fabric swatches that were sentimental to her. I came up with this cute lovey for the Little Miss. Her mama was happy with it, and so was I.

And what would I do without my helper? She loves to watch me make stuff. Someday in the future I'll be watching her try her hand at the sewing machine. I hope she loves it as much as I do.

I might have made a mistake...

2010-03-04T17:03:00.004-05:00

You know that feeling of inspiration? When a project idea comes to you, and you're in love with it already? You may not know how it's all going to come together, but you had a vision, and you're sold!
Or not.

For a long while, I was collecting scraps of vintage doubleknit fabric. I liked the individual pieces somewhat, and I pictured them melding into an extremely hip creation. Instead, I got this:
Which looks like the 70s threw up on my kitchen floor. I tried to like it, but the only emotion it grabs is sympathy for my lost time and energy. Now I have a scrap rug that will never wear off its ugliness. It's currently in the garage, but if someone wants to make an offer.....

A Household Task

2010-02-18T22:04:00.003-05:00

Yesterday as I stood in the laundry room, folding warm clothes right out of the dryer, I felt very housewifely and much too responsible, but I did have to give myself a pat on the back. My characteristic move is to fling load on top of load onto the living room floor, let it settle for several days until my favorite TV show comes on, then sit on my butt and get to work, which is pretty efficient in its own way, for a number of reasons. Arguments can be made for either method, so I'm not committing myself to anything here. I'm flexible like that.

But one cringingly boring routine that has me sold is meal-planning. For years I fought it, reasoning that it would cramp my creativity since I frequently get inspired by new recipes in magazines, on the Food Network, on the internet or in a re-read cookbook, and I tend to act on my inspiration immediately because That is My Style. But with three kids, I've decided that sometimes creativity is overrated. Yes, survival mode played a large part of my conversion.

I plan our menu once a week, usually a Sunday night. First I take a quick inventory of what I already have in the freezer and pantry. I also check out the remaining life span of any produce. I grab a cookbook or two that I fancy, my cute little magnetic menu planner and my datebook. I sit down, swallow the nerd-like vibes I give myself, and get to work. Ironically, I find at this time I have the opportunity to introduce creativity into my meals. Planned creativity is actually nice, not restricting like I thought it would be. I get to browse through recipes and choose new and interesting ones that fit our budget and nutritional needs. If I'm really thinking ahead, I can incorporate grocery items that I know will be on sale for the week.

Two nights are always a given. We have pizza on a weekend night, and we have a breakfast meal another evening. That means I only have to scratch my head for five days, or fewer if we'll be having a date night or if something else is on the calendar.

Here I will insert some disclaimers: I cook a lot, but I like to cook. I actually love it. I don't like to do dishes, and I do get sick of the kitchen, but I have a high tolerance for endlessly long ingredient lists and from-scratch recipes. Our budget dictates some of this, and nutritional reasons also play a factor, but so do our taste buds. For instance, we prefer homemade pancakes to a purchased mix. They're much cheaper to make, I control what goes into them, and we like their flavor better. I also cook a lot because we don't eat out much, because we have three young children. I repeat, three little ankle-biters who don't always behave in socially acceptable ways.

I went through a spell where I planned out every meal we ate, including snacks, but that got a little too intense. I discovered I wasn't a great estimator of how many leftovers we would have, I got too irritated if things didn't go according to my plan, and I would get exhausted by all the prep work and then go into shut-down mode. Never mind how long it took to come up with those menus, it was a waste of time! Now I just plan the supper menu, and it feels appropriate. Not too controlling, not too difficult, just plain liberating.

I'm free from the 4:30 what's-for-supper panic!!

Now to that new pile of clean laundry on the floor...

Leather Cleaning?

2010-02-15T16:33:00.002-05:00

Last night as I sunk into my retro, err, vintage green leather arm chair for some good ol' Winter Olympics, I noticed something that about unglued me.

Pen marks on the arm of the chair.

If it would have been on my ugly oak table, I wouldn't have cared. I've ruined that thing myself with scorch marks a time or two. But it wasn't. It's my beloved, comfortable, coveted-for-years green chair.

I haven't tried anything yet. I need some time to cool off and think through my strategy. I've got some saddle soap in the cleaning cupboard. I'll try an internet search. But I was wondering if anyone has had successful personal experience with this same issue?

Announcement of Great Importance

2010-02-02T22:54:00.003-05:00

Surprise!!!! We're expecting a baby!!

FAQs:

Q: So, are you done?
A: Did you just ask me that?! You mean with having kids, right? I don't really know how to answer that. I love big families, but I'll just smile and say I really don't know!!

Q: You figured out what's causing this yet?
A: Umm, well, Grandma W. said all Grandpa had to do was hang his pants over the end of the bed and she ended up pregnant, but we don't have a footboard, so......

Q: When are you due? How far along are you?
A: Sometime around the beginning of September. Haven't been to the doctor yet. I think I'm around 10 weeks.

Q: How are you feeling?
A: Gross. I cannot stand the smell of coffee, and a whiff of chocolate chips just about sends me over the edge. I'm also taking lots of naps.

Q: Have you told your kids?
A: Yep! They are so excited about the baby in Mommy's tummy. Owen has plans to ride his bike to the hospital. Helen is ecstatic to be a big sister again. Jack doesn't know what we're talking about.

Q: How far apart are all your kids?
A: Owen: 24 months and 2 weeks: Helen: 19 1/2 months: Jack: probably about 26 months: new baby! We didn't want them too close in age, you know.

Q: Any names picked out?
A: We have a policy about spilling names! We'll tell you when the baby is born.

Q: What about your marathon plans?
A: Yeah, that! When I have the energy, my runs really make me feel great. I forget about my queasy stomach while I'm ticking off the miles. I'm doing the half marathon in Knoxville at the end of March; Jason is doing the whole and I'm so proud of him!

Q: What sustains you? You must be exhausted!
A: I am! I trust that God is sovereign, his plan for our family is good, and that this baby has a purpose. So far He has used our children to change us for the better, so there must be more change needed!

One more felt ornament

2010-01-06T16:38:00.002-05:00

This one I made for my nephew, who loves that curious monkey. Blake also got a freezer paper stencil shirt of the yellow hat, but somehow I forgot to take a picture of it. (Or maybe that picture is on my NEW!!!! camera that Jason gave me for my birthday?!)

I made a test Curious George ornament first, because I knew Owen would like it. This morning he informed me with very grown-up words, "Blake and I like Curious George stuff. When Helen gets a little bigger, she can like it too."

Uncle Phil's Trailer Leaves W-Ville

2009-12-16T19:39:00.004-05:00

I am not the person to tell you the deep history of Uncle Phil's trailer and how it first came to the hill in Weberville. That blood, sweat, and tears tale, full of triumph and tragedy, belongs to someone else, namely Uncle Phil. My story of its parting with the family complex spans only a few brief moments of its existence, from the top of the hill to a quarter mile down the lane.
These house movers worked for several days prepping the site, yanking bushes and jacking up the trailer.
Finally it was time to move.

Through the yard and onto the lane! Glad it made the first turn.
Continuing its slow progression...
The first bridge!
Only to be stopped by a tree branch.
No problem!
That is that!
Back to the serious work of home transportation.
I think I heard a few soft creaks.
We certainly don't see this every day!
Off to new lands! May you enjoy steadfast ground and stalwart owners!
15 minutes later. Yes, it really is gone!

Some Handmade Gifts

2009-12-16T15:37:00.004-05:00

So many adorable nieces and nephews, so little time!

Here are some Christmas gifts, made and sent early to Costa Rica for Karis and Jeremy. Freezer paper stencil dump truck shirt and princess nightie. I have borrowed that nightgown pattern so many times, I finally bought my own from Ebay.Here is a birthday present for cutie-pie Allison.
And here is a shirt I dreamed up for a sweet little girl at church, after being contracted by her momma!
So much fun! So much more fun to come!

More Felt Christmas Ornaments

2009-12-10T23:32:00.004-05:00

Mom helped me with these while she was here. Thanks, Mom!

Felt Christmas Ornaments

2009-12-04T21:51:00.004-05:00

Every year, I buy each of the kids a new ornament for the tree. I try to find one that fits them for the year. For example, I found a rooster for Owen one year since he was fascinated by their crowing. They love this tradition and so do I. They hang their own ornaments, usually in one big clump to be spaced out later by Mommy, and proceed to admire them the rest of the Christmas season. This year I once again began the search for the right ornaments. And then I stopped in my tracks. Why was I wanting to spend (too much) money for a little trinket that had no previous meaning? Especially when I had all my inexpensive crafty resources laying around?

Here's what I came up with for this year, and I just might stick with making their ornaments from here on out!
I made my own pattern and cut two felt pieces for each crayon's color. I stitched the kids' names with embroidery floss onto black felt, cut them out in an oval shape, cut out some black squiggly lines for the crayon paper, and handstitched everything onto one crayon shape. I embellished it with a few more simple stab stitches, then put it all together with a wee bit of stuffing in the middle, adding an embroidery floss hanger. Easy, peasy! And a whole lotta fun too.

A Great Idea--Picture Display

2009-12-03T23:39:00.004-05:00

I love to look at bulletin boards, the kind that people hang in their homes and thumbtack all their pictures of family and friends onto. This was mine.
Pretty pathetic, huh? I indicate the actual bulletin board, not the images on it! I had tried to make a French memo board when Jason and I were first married, using ribbon remnants from our wedding bulletins. Nine years later, it had lost the ribbons, but was still not looking great. To spite it, I refused to change my pictures from last year's Christmas greetings. So my poor friends and family were either suffering allergies from dust build-up or suffocating in a plastic baggie in my junk cupboard. (Pardon my blurry pictures! I work best at night, after the kids are in bed.)

Enter idea. Jason's cousin Lynette repurposed a crib rail from a junked crib. She hung it on her wall, strung ribbons on it and taped up pictures for a modern take on the ol' bulletin board. Knowing how I like crazy salvaging projects, she gave me the other three sides of the crib. Side note: I have also received a whole bag full of (new) mismatched socks from her. Hmmm....

Jason cut down the crib rail for me, since it was too long for my wall. I got out the trusty black spray paint! I always love an excuse to spray paint. Since I didn't have great ribbon on hand, I carefully measured, cut and ironed some stash fabric from IKEA.
The finished product! Just in time for Christmas this year.
Any good ideas for displaying Christmas cards?

Party III: More Birthday Mania

2009-12-03T23:04:00.005-05:00

Now that Helen has reached the ripe old age of three years and one month, let me post some pictures of her long-past birthday party! Her cake was very simple. She wanted a purple H, a pink cake with purple frosting. How could I refuse? I baked two 8x8 cakes--thank you, you 88-cent box of strawberry cake mix! Then I disected and spliced them together with loads of purple frosting. I sprinkled it with decorating sugar and tied on a bow to pretty up the muppet look. By the way, that purple frosting left reddish marks on my floor. I have no--ahem--idea how any of it landed on the floor.Helen was very pleased, even though she had wanted a Dora on top too. (Dora?! Seriously? She doesn't watch Dora! She wanted Dora on top because that's what her friend "Kafflyn" had this past summer. Aren't we a bit young to be starting this?)We actually tacked Helen's party onto a celebration for my mother in law, who had turned 60 the previous week. Hers was the main event, but it would have been a shame to not take advantage of the opportunity! I think grandma would have almost been offended if we hadn't have. The birthday girls:
Some pre-cake euphoria:We served three different kinds of cupcakes for Ruth. It's hard to resist a cupcake!
This is not even all of the kids that were here for the party! The noise wasn't bad, really. WHAT? SPEAK UP!!

Apparently the furry icing was irresistable too. And I get the prize for leaving the butcher knife at the children's fingertips.

Happy Birthday, Helen! Have fun being "this many" (hold up three fingers.)