2019: A Reflection

Emry has always attended service with us at church. Except for a few times, we’ve never put her in the nursery. Ethan, though, has been in the nursery quite a bit. He is much more antsy than Emry…and juggling two of them is sometimes more than I wished to handle! But in the past many months, Ethan has become sorely disappointed if he doesn’t come to service with us. So, unless Ed is on security duty, we take him. Which means I hear maybe 30% of the sermon. And retain even less. But last Sunday, I did hear the challenge question. What has God taught me in 2019?

At first (between putting stickers on paper with Ethan and trying to creatively draw with Emry), I couldn’t think of anything God has taught me in 2019. Except little things that are usually repeat lessons I can’t get through my thick skull. I left church wondering if 2019 had been more or less in vain. That God and I were completely out of touch (which sometimes seems to be so) and what I could do to change that.

Later that day, when things were a bit quiet thanks to naptime, I was able to think through 2019 with a more focused intent. And one very important lesson God has been teaching me came to mind: God’s timing is always perfect.

Last February when Ethan turned two, I began to live life in abject fear. The fear of getting pregnant again. After I had Emry, I asked the Lord to give me one year with her before I got pregnant again. Exactly one month after she turned one, I was pregnant. Overwhelmed with two kids and everything else life threw in our path, I asked God for two years with Ethan before number three might grace our lives. But Ethan turned two, and I couldn’t handle the thought of three. I had a friend pregnant with their third, and while I rejoiced with her, I would freeze in horror at the thought of myself having three. When a young woman in one of our small groups announced over the summer that (surprise!) they would be having number three, I secretly exulted that it was not me. Meanwhile, I could sense her fear of soon having three (in just over four years), and I empathized with her. I was sure if I became pregnant, I would sit down and cry for days.

As I have been approaching forty this past year, my body has been reminding me of my age and all the changes a woman gets to go through when she’s old. Changes that have proven to be painful and more emotional than I would have ever imagined. Much worse than when I was eleven and the whole thing started. Then I suffered a few cramps for a day. Now I cried for days with no reason and was sick for another few days, almost as if I was pregnant. So, when I got sick yet again but it didn’t go away and my period didn’t come…well, I took a test just to know for certain if I was pregnant or not going through yet another remind-me-how-old-I-am change in my body. I was a bit surprised to find I was pregnant. But I was also at peace.

When I told a good friend of mine I was expecting number three, she asked how I felt about it. I told her if she had asked me that just the month previous I would have probably cried with fear, and anger, and what-am-I-going-to-do angst.  But somewhere in that time, God had changed my heart. Not with any big episode or a sudden dawning of revelation, but simply changed it. Prepared me to willingly accept that number three is on his or her way. That he or she will dramatically change our lives, but that’s okay. Somehow we’ll make it work. Not without frustration and lots of other moments of conflict as well as joy, but God’s grace is sufficient. Somehow everything will fall into place, be provided for and come together. Because God’s timing is perfect, sovereign and good. Which is a lesson from 2019 I can take with me into 2020…and beyond.

Christmas!

Somehow, we made it to Christmas. And survived! From Ethan singeing his hair at the Christmas Eve candlelight service to a day at the Indy Children’s Museum (Uncle Caleb’s treat).  And everything in between…

 Emry and Uncle Caleb (aka: “Uncle Ca-Ca”)

Emry, Ethan and Beto opening their one present on Christmas Eve.

Emry got her longed for light up rose!

And half of Ethan’s gifts were Spider-Man themed…

Grandma and Emry playing one of our new games.

 A day at the Children’s Museum!

Christmas Dresses

I always remember loving Christmas and Easter because it meant new dresses for church. Not that we didn’t get dresses other times of the year, but those never seemed quite as nice. For Easter we got to pick out lovely spring prints for fancy summery dresses (even if it did snow more often than not on Easter in New England) and for Christmas, cozy warm colored dresses that may not have been as fancy but I always liked better. 

I have fond memories of many of my Christmas dresses. Most times they matched my sisters, although we all had some that were made solely for us and matched no one. At times, even my mom had a matching dress and my dad and brothers matching ties. One of my favorites even taught me an important life-long lesson I have never forgotten. Those days of getting a new outfit each Christmas are over (especially when one is pregnant), but I had a lot of fun looking back through pictures to find some of them:

 Christmas 1986 – the greyish blue corduroy that taught me a lesson.

Christmas 1990 – I loved the fabric, but I am glad big collars and dropped waists are no longer in style!

Now I have a little girl I can dress up, although her style is much fancier and sparklier than mine ever was! This year Emry’s first Christmas dress is actually store bought. She saw it on an outing with Grandma and fell in love with the sparkling red dress that certainly suits her style. So, Grandma bought it. But the second dress Grandma made and one day, I hope, Emry will think of the dress and all it entails. The top, a deep blue, is made from scraps of Christmas dresses my sisters and I had twenty years ago. The bottom, a silky white, is made from scraps from Aunt Grace’s wedding dress. A silver band completes the outfit and gives it the sparkle that is rarely absent from any of Emry’s outfits. Both dresses are very cute!

Sparkly red!

The dress Grandma made.

Hugging her brother.

And, just because, our handsome little man in his Christmas red sweater.

The Trial of Christmas

I was in my 20s before I meant anyone who didn’t celebrate Christmas. By then I knew that many of the customs and things we do around the holidays have roots in the pagan celebrations of winter. And, of course, I had known for a while that Jesus wasn’t actually born on December 25. Perhaps I felt a little sorry for the kids in those families who didn’t have the traditions my family enjoyed, although that didn’t stop them from joining in with our celebrations at church or our own home. Now I’m beginning to think the parents of those families were just a whole lot wiser than me…and avoided the headache Christmas can be for parents around the world.

Growing up I remember the excitement around the holidays. I even remember that Grace would get so worked up about it all she would usually have a least one spell of lying in bed with a migraine before it was all over. And I remember my mom once saying how grateful she was that Grace’s birthday was only two weeks after Christmas and it would all be over for the year. Back then I didn’t understand what she meant except that Grace was extra giddy and jumpy, but now I get it. Honestly, I think I am going to have to tie Emry up and put her in box stamped “Do no open until Christmas day” before this is all said and done. I don’t ever remember Christmas being so exhausting…or emotional.

Had Emry not been swinging from one end of the excited-beyond-reason to the other end of the greedy-everything-must-be-special spectrum I don’t believe we would have any trouble with Ethan. His excitement is always spur of the moment, overjoyed with whatever event occurred and then on to the next thing. Emry, though, has not gotten out of the boat of anticipation, often pulling Ethan in wit her, and we still have five more days to go before its all said and done. As far as she is concerned, the holidays mean that every moment of every day should be special, not run-of-the-mill school, chores, play, sleep, eat, survive. We need to be baking cookies, going somewhere, looking for the light up rose she’s longing for, decorating, crafting, shopping (usually for her) and reading special books. All of this equals discontent most days which, combined with the fact that she’s too caught up in everything to nap most afternoons, creates an emotional drama almost every night before bed. Ed has had it with her. I’m exhausted trying to figure out the best way to resolve these issues. And Ethan wanders about ignoring his sister’s emotional highs and lows (which may or may not make him a good husband someday).

All of this on top of trying to keep life normal, not feeling well any day of the week and still trying to make Christmas special has given me a somewhat Scrooge attitude. Most nights I collapse in my chair and can’t wait for Christmas to be over. However, the trial of it all has also brought me to daily remember why we celebrate Christmas to begin with, a reminder I then try to share with Emry and Ethan often during these days. Christmas is not about us, or gifts, or cookies, or all things special. It is about Jesus. Our Savior. The Prince of Peace.

My Three Kids

At their ages, very few days go by without one of them learning or doing something “new”. Whether it’s Ethan taking Ed literally (like when he said the cookies were “up there” referring to a table at the front of the gym at church, causing Ethan to look up at the ceiling and shake his head saying, “there aren’t any cookies up there”) to Emry deciding to brush and put up her own hair…right as we needed to walk out the door to go somewhere, of course. Never a dull moment.

Emry’s new things aren’t by leaps and bounds. I see her reading progressing, common words becoming familiar, frequent math problems easier to answer. Even her handwriting is becoming neater, although she often has a mind of her own when it comes to how letters should be written. Her imagination is forever growing. It’s fun to catch her playing with her toys, listening to whatever world she’s in. Or what games she is creating…and then telling Ethan exactly how to play them.

Lately Ethan has discovered coloring.  And finally shown which of his hands is more dominant. Although, if his right hand gets tired, he switches the color to his left hand and uses that one for a while. He’ll sit for at least half of Emry’s school time and color away in the few small coloring books he has, as content as can be. Already you can see his motor skills improving as he stays within the lines. Sometimes the pictures even have several colors instead of only blue.

Even number three seems to make his or her will known. When pregnant with the other two, I never had any particular aversions or cravings for this or that food. With this one, I don’t have any cravings, but I certainly have aversions. Spicy food is out. I don’t even want chips and salsa. And sugar makes me sick. Which is terrible during a time of year when I bake some of my favorite cookies but can only manage to eat a tiny piece at a time, eventually devouring a whole one over the course of a week. On the other hand, it does mean I haven’t gained any weight ,which is a surprise since I am very aware that I am showing. Instead, I live on bagels and cream cheese with fruit on top. It’s the only thing that never makes me sick and keeps the nausea at bay.

Happy 28^thBirthday, Jenny!

Christmas Baking

Cooking has become a chore. Mostly because eating is a chore. It’s not that I’m so sick I don’t want to eat. I just don’t feel like eating. However, not eating makes me even more sick. It’s a vicious circle.

So, baking was a chore this year. I had wanted to try a new Christmas cookie every year, eventually creating a list of four or five favorites that would become our family’s traditional cookies. A couple are ones I grew up with: Sandies and Spritz. I always loved the Reese Cup cookies, so that is an addition I’ve already added. And I lovegingerbread cookies, but I hate decorating. So, I found a gingerbread crinkle cookie recipe that is easy and really good. This year, those are the four I made with help from the kids as most of those are easy enough they can help somehow. And as I figured out pretty quickly that sugar is a sickness trigger for this pregnancy, that is all I made. I just couldn’t stomach baking more cookies I can’t eat anyhow.

To be completely honest, I find all the baking to be rather a chore. I enjoy baking – for a brief moment in time and then I would rather be doing something else. But by growing up baking every Christmas, I hope the kids will enjoy it and one day take on a majority of the work themselves. I just hope Ethan won’t make quite the mess he already makes. And that Emry won’t be quite so bossy. Both of which, I imagine, are rather vain hopes…

 Making Reese Cup cookies…

…and decorating Spritz.

Christmas Books

A tradition I started with Emry’s very first Christmas was reading a Christmas book every night before bed. I had several already. The rest we got at the library as I plowed through a list I had compiled in search of ones I would want to purchase and read each year. Five years later, that list hasn’t gotten any shorter…

I have found favorites to purchase, though, and I have a list of several more I may purchase in the future. But every year, I seem to find more that are really good. Eventually, as the kids gets older, some may be replaced as they grow out of Biscuit or even Fancy Nancy. But with another baby on the way…that may be a while. Besides, some are simply too wonderful to replace. Like Little Blue Truck’s Christmas. Ethan loves that one so much, we read it every day before he takes a nap. He’s even starting to quote it!

Always wanting to share my favorite children’s books, here are the ones we ready every year:

            A Very Merry Christmas Prayer

            The Christmas Story

            The Scallop Christmas

            Fancy Nancy: Splendiferous Christmas

            The Gingerbread Baby

            Brown Paper Teddy Bear

            Dear Santa Claus

            Meet Santa Bear

            The Legend of the Candy Cane

            Jingle Bells

God Gave us Christmas

            Merry Christmas, Amelia Bedelia

            Little Blue Truck’s Christmas

            The 12 Days of Christmas      

            Jacob’s Gift

            Apple Tree Christmas

            The Christmas Tree Ship

            Olaf’s Night Before Christmas

            Gingerbread Mouse

And ones I am considering to purchase, simply because they are really cute, or good, or simply fun:

            The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey

            Biscuit’s Christmas Eve

            Bear Stays up for Christmas

Getting Ready

We’re a bit early this year. Especially since Navy doesn’t play Army until this weekend. (An event of the year Ed simply cannot get into or understand how important it is.) But since Ed will likely be working every weekend until the week of Christmas, it was the only time we had. So, off we went to get a Christmas tree.

The kids were quite excited. Ethan especially. He was jumping up and down. The tree! The lights! The ornaments! The train! It was the event of the year as far as he was concerned, and I was lucky to get him down for a nap before we did the decorating. Emry was a bit more subdued, but how delighted she was about each ornament! If only she was a bit taller. Ed and I had to go back later and re-arrange our bottom heavy tree…

I’m a little behind on other decorating. I’m forever at a loss of where to put the stockings which are currently piled on top of the box containing my Christmas village I just haven’t had the energy to get put up. I usually love doing it, but being sick so often and always exhausted takes a toll on my creativity. I still have Christmas shopping to do, baking and just daily life to spread out as energy allows. Hopefully this week…hopefully!

Meanwhile, the house looks and feels festive, special Christmas toys strewn through my living room, the tree lights on as soon as they wake up in the morning and Ed’s train going as soon as he arrives home from work. The only question Ethan has is: where are the presents? Well, if I get my shopping done maybe I’ll actually get them wrapped before Christmas morning…or, at least, tagged!

Ethan as Santa…

…and Emry as Santa.

Decorating the tree!

Five Minutes of Thanks

For yet another year, I will set my phone and see how many things I can be thankful for:

My God, my husband, Emry, Ethan and the new baby (even though I am still sick almost all day long). Our church family, especially those friends we have from our small groups. My parents, my sisters, brothers and nephews. Our house. Some nice days to go outside and snow. Books..and a new bookshelf so I could get more of them out! Clothes, heat, running water, good health. Food, freedom, old friends who I can e-mail and text randomly, call and pick up right where we left off. My salvation. God’s unchangeableness. Exercise, even though somedays I simply can’t right now. Running, even though I can’t do that at all right now, but I can go for walks sometimes! Ed’s job, hot showers, my co-workers. Good health for everyone in my family. More books. Old movies I loved as a kid I can now share with my kids. The ability to speak, and move, and breathe. The coming holidays. Color, rainbows, history, puzzles, games and having fun. Knowing that one day I will live in Heaven with my Savior.

Big Words and Young Logic

A few weeks ago, Ethan’s Puggles teacher at church told me how much he enjoys having Ethan in the class, namely because he can communicate almost twice as good as any of the other two-year-olds. After being assured he wasn’t chattering when he needed to be quiet in class, I agreed he does speak very well with a rather exhaustive vocabulary for a tiny kid who is still four months away from being three. In fact, sometimes he speaks better than the three-year-olds in Cubbies!

Ethan has always communicated well. He learned to speak at a very early age, and he picks up words the moment he hears them.  I’m not sure what that tends toward in his future, but I think he has done so because he feels he has to respond to Emry. I shouldn’t be surprised when he runs up to me in the midst of some game Emry has roped him into and declares with big eyes, “Mama, don’t! It’s dangerous!” But sometimes the big words he uses do astound me. One of his favorite books isLittle Blue Truck’s Springtime.I feel like we’ve read it every day before naptime for the past month. On the last page, it drives him crazy that one of the little piglets is on one page and not on the other nine on the other page. The other day, he pointed at that pig and said in exasperation, “That piggy is supposed to be over there.” 

And two-year-olds aren’t supposedto use the word supposed.

Today after spending an hour at one of the indoor play areas at the local mega-church, we had a special lunch with Mom at IHop instead of the usual Chick-fil-a or McDonalds. The kids had never been there and Emry thought the name of the place was fun. I tried to explain to her that it stood for International House of Pancakes, but she apparently didn’t understand because as we were leaving the restaurant, she stopped, looked carefully at the building and then asked, “Mama, where is the bunny?” 

“Bunny?” I echoed wonderingly, but it quickly came to me. I Hop. Surely that means a bunny, right?

I laughed and tried to explain the whole acronym thing again, but I’m sure it went over her head. Thankfully she did accept the fact that the restaurant simply does not have a bunny.

Old Music

I didn’t listen to music much as a teenager. I gave it a shot, but then we got involved in ATI and it all had to be tossed out lest I find myself headed directly to hell because someone hit a drum with a stick. I hated loosing some of that music because I really appreciated one artist especially (and now, I confess, own a couple of her albums again), but what I really hated was the guilt trip and the idea that my salvation was based on keeping a list of do’s-and-don’t’s that I knew I could never keep perfectly. All in all, though, whether this song or that one was right or wrong didn’t matter to me a whole lot. Music was never an essential in my life. I realize that more than ever when I come across some simple song I sang as a child that my children have never heard. Because it rarely crosses my mind to sing with my kids (or without them, for that matter) and then I feel guilty because I’m sure my kids are lacking in their education. But the guilt doesn’t last very long…because then I forget about music yet again.

When I get in one of my parents’ vehicles, XM is always on and nearly always set to my mom’s favorite station of the 60s. Songs she grew up with when she was a teenager. And she loves to listen to. When I get in our car, Ed has it on a station that plays mostly songs of the 80s when he was a teenager. And if he turns music on at home on his phone, it’s the same music. Some of it I actually remember from when I was a small child. Most of the time, I don’t understand what the artist is trying to say anymore now than I did when I was seven. Rock artists really don’t bother to annunciate our beautiful English language. Or they drown it out with drums and loud guitars, On occasion, though, it actually dawns on me what the person is saying and I’m usually left a bit appalled or shaking my head at the stupidity of it all. The other night he had a song playing from the 90s that I don’t believe I had ever heard and it didn’t take me long before I told him,

“Ed, that is the dumbest song I have ever heard.”

“What?” he asks as he stops the music.

“Listen to it,” I said and quoted, “ ‘Next time I fall in love, it will be with you.’ That’s idiotic. I’m not in love with you now but if you stick around, next time I will be. Really?”

I honestly don’t think Ed considers the words of half the songs he knows. He grew up with them. They just echo in his head, something like Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star which most of us don’t really think about, just sing. But now he did stop, a look of realization dawning.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “That is stupid.”

It’s really hard, at times, to consider musicians as artists when all they can think of is idiocy to write about. But maybe that’s just the consequence of too many drums constantly banging in their ears…

Our New Baby

With Emry and Ethan, I had only one ultrasound each at 20 weeks. That was fine with me. I was always delighted to hear their heartbeats at each doctor’s visit, and the ultrasound was so extensive that I was sore for days afterwards as if I had done about 100 crunches every hour for five hours. An hour of rolling that thing over my abs hurt, especially since I hadn’t been doing crunches since I learned I was pregnant.

Today was my first doctor’s appointment with my new doctor. Even though I didn’t expect it to be that different than my previous doctors, I was still nervous. Hence the high-ish blood pressure. But it was no big deal. After all, the doctor I really like pointed out, I’m on number three. It’s old school now. But one thing that was different was the small, mobile ultrasound machine she had. She declared it was probably as old as I am, but it works just fine. And I saw the baby. I even got a picture, much to Emry’s delight. Although she is very upset it is on the refrigerator and not next to her bed. After all, this is her new sister. At least, she fervently hopes so!

Isn’t the baby precious?

Flashcards

I’m sure we all have memories of flashcards. Probably not fond ones. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the constant repetition. Or the fact that one had to do them day after day after day. I remember doing them. I remember having to do them with my siblings, which was probably worse. No one likes flashcards – right?

Well, if you had asked me that two weeks ago, I would have agreed with that assessment. I had met no one who liked flashcards. Then I started flashcards with Emry. I was dreading it. As if penmanship doesn’t cause enough tears. Or some days reading. I introduced them by telling her they would help her learn all the math problems she was doing on her drills, not supposing a 4-year-old would understand the logic of that. But it certainly sounded good. And, I guess, made sense.

Because Emry loves flashcards. She wants to do them every day. She’s excited when I pull them out. She’s delighted when I add new ones. And, the other day, when her math introduced subtraction she turned to me and said matter-of-factly, “Mama, I need flashcards so I can learn these.”

I won’t deny it. I think she’s a little strange…

Sick

Now I can empathize with women who have morning sickness. Any sickness I had with Ethan or Emry was in the evenings and rather minor. I think I was just more tired after a busy day, felt a little sick, and soon headed to bed. The next day I would feel just fine, go out for a run or do some pilates and go on with my day. Except for the usual feelings of being the size of a whale or discomfort, pregnancy was rather simple. 

Not this time.

I wake up sick. I go to bed sick. I feel sick most of the day. Exercise has been regulated to not-at-all strenuous and not every day because it seems to equal simply feeling sicker sooner. The only thing that staves off the sickness is sleep. But sleeping all day long is, sadly, not an option.

Meanwhile I also feel exhausted almost all day long. The fact that the kids are dressed, fed, laundry somewhat completed, dinner prepared, my work done, and the house mostly cleaned is a great accomplishment on my part. Somedays I’m not dressed until noon…or even later. I just don’t have the extra energy to look for something besides my pajamas…which are soooo comfortable.

With Emry and Ethan I wasn’t into maternity clothes until my second trimester. I’ve already pulled them out. Overnight I could no longer wear my own pants or most of my skirts. I nearly cried as I always look forward to pulling out my winter wardrobe and snuggling up in my plaid skirts and warm sweaters. This year it will be ill-fitting jeans, two whole skirts that are serviceable put not delightful, and sweatshirts or shirts I can simply tolerate. At least my feet don’t get any bigger and I can enjoy my boots!

Eating is murder. I’d rather not do it, but I must or I feel even more sick. Nothing except orange juice and chicken sandwiches sound even remotely appetizing, and I could really pass on those, too. Fixing dinner, making grocery lists and going to a store with food in it are torture. 

I simply wish to hibernate and sleep for the next seven months. 

People have asked if I suspect a boy or a girl. Carrying Emry versus carrying Ethan was very different. We didn’t find out with either, but I was 95% sure Ethan was a boy because he carried so different than Emry. This one? Well, if there were a third option, I would go with that. I guess that will make finding out at birth all the more a surprise!

Emry the Artist

Pink is Emry’s favorite color. Usually, if she’s coloring a picture, the whole thing is pink. Pink grass, pink sky, pink people. If she gets to choose the colors used in her schoolwork, she chooses pink. I think, if possible, she would do all her schoolwork in pink. Unfortunately, she has to use a pencil.

Thus far, her creativity in art has been restrained to coloring pictures, occasional watercolor, and cutting paper into shreds.  Sadly, she does not have an artist as a mother. Just putting together an art project takes a lot out of me and since I currently have almost no energy and spend 75% of my day feeling sick to my stomach, art projects are on the very bottom of my to-do list. But, suddenly, Emry decided to take art into her own hands.

During rest time one day, her creative genes suddenly poured over. Before the few hours were over, I had a picture of a yellow Biscuit and a pink pig on my refrigerator. In the weeks to come she drew her first family portrait: Papa all orange, Ethan all blue, me all purple and herself all pink (of course). She needed her Cubbies book so she could draw a picture of Cubbie. She erased math problems from her chalk board wall so she could draw a very fat snowman, a very skinny Santa and Christmas gifts. She has drawn farm animals, her family picking apples from a huge apple tree, and herself swinging. Tonight she told me she loves to draw.

I’m glad. I hate to draw. In so many ways, her four-year-old artwork is much better than my thirty-nine-year-old artwork. For one, she actually sits down at a blank piece of paper and starts creating. I sit down at a blank sheet of paper and…well, can’t come up with anything. Ever. If either Emry or Ethan insist I draw something, I revert back to what I’ve drawn for the past thirty-five years: a house, a rainbow, a set of swings, a sun, oversized flowers, a tree, stick people. Rather sad.

Emry may never be a great artist, but at least she enjoys drawing and creating. It makes my heart rejoice to know she will excel her mother in the world of art. 

Halloween

This is what our Halloween looked like:

 Yes, snow. The temperature was somewhere around 22°and we probably got about an inch and a half of snow.  Our town didn’t postpone trick-or-treating, so we didn’t go. Nor did I see anyone else in the neighborhood out braving the elements. And since we didn’t tell Emry and Ethan anything about it…well, they never knew the difference.

Really I wasn’t too excited about going trick-or-treating anyhow. We already have enough candy in the house to last until next Halloween. For the weekend before, we met up with my sister Abby and her son Beto to go “trunk-or-treating” at my sister Jenny’s church. Which would have probably been ten times better had it not been pouring down rain and so we had to wind our way through a dark gym with thousands of other kids. Ed declared next year we were notdoing this again, but the kids didn’t know the difference and the three Spider-Mans were as happy as could be.

 Afterwards we went up to my parents’ for pizza and the kids got to beat open piñatas (a Sturm Halloween tradition) so we went home with plenty of candy and very happy kids.

The following Tuesday, Emry was allowed to wear her white Spider-Man costume to dance class. An occasion she kept telling me was “so exciting!”. Needless to say, she was the only superhero among a bunch of princesses…which she didn’t mind at all.

Boys, Boys and More Boys

Twenty-one years ago, my sister Katey and I taught a Sunday School class at our church in Texas of fifteen or sixteen 5-year-olds who had not yet started Kindergarten. Only three of them were girls. The other dozen or more were boys. Active, rowdy, real life boys. Almost everyone in that rather large church knew we had the most challenging group of kids, simply because most Sundays we had ten or twelve boys on our hands and maybe two girls. There was certainly never a dull moment! It’s hard to believe those kids are now in their late twenties. Some of them are probably even married!

Today Emry’s Sunday School class looks almost exactly the same: about ten boys and maybe three little girls. Most often it’s just Emry surrounded by bundles of activity with names like Caleb, Hudson, Michael, Judah, Harrison, Asher, Seth…you get the picture. One little girl in her pretty dresses in the midst of more energy than I probably ever had even a moment in my lifetime. To be honest, she’s mostly oblivious to that fact. I was always intrigued by the way the three girls in my old class responded to all that energy. One was a prima donna or right in the midst of the brawls, depending on what most suited her purposes. Another, who had only two elder sisters, looked at those boys as if they were aliens from another planet. The last one, very beautiful little Larissa, was the girl of every one of those boys’ dreams. They couldn’t be nice enough to her. She had no clue. But Emry has only a brother and all the cousins she knows are boys. It’s actually rare than she has a female playmate. And so, a classroom full of boys isn’t anything abnormal to her. 

But for me, well, I’m not eighteen anymore. I spend one Sunday a month teaching Emry’s class and three Wednesdays a month in Cubbies with the same group of kids plus six or seven more. And it is exhausting! But, they are fun.

A Busy Calendar

I knew that one day my seemingly empty calendar would again be full. More full than I wanted it to be. I thought this would probably come about when Emry was 6 or 7. I had no idea it would come when she was 4!

In Pittsburgh, we didn’t do much. Ed’s work schedule was all over the board, so we could never commit to anything. When he was at work, as far as the kids and I could go was as far as we could walk, which is a considerable distance with a stroller but it wasn’t as if Rochester had that many things going for it: the post office, park, library and grocery store. Not terribly exciting.

The move here brought more consistency to our lives. Ed works a regular shift (plus tons of overtime, but at least I know when it starts and about when it ends). And while we still don’t do much during the day (outings with Grandma, school, walks to the park), we seem to be in overdrive for the evenings. Unable to commit to anything in Pittsburgh and feeling somewhat starved of friendships or fellowship, we joined not one small group at church but two! They are very different from each other and we enjoy each for different reasons. One is every other Sunday evening and one nearly every Thursday evening. Then Emry has dance class Tuesday evenings, which she thoroughly enjoys. Somehow we got “trapped” into helping in the Cubbies group of Awana at church Wednesday evenings, which is fine considering we were going to take the kids anyhow. Which leaves only Friday evening every other week for grocery shopping, especially since Ed seems to work most Saturdays as late. With church on Sundays (and us teaching Emry’s class once a month with Ed on security another Sunday), our lives have become very busy.

With so much going on, I put a calendar on our refrigerator. I keep a calendar in my head, but I know I can fail to communicate that with Ed. So, I felt this was a good solution. As I added an event my sister invited me to this past week to the November page, I stopped short and realized there was hardly an empty day on it. Between all our regular activities, I have a playdate, my first doctor’s appointment for the baby, a show Grandma and I are taking Emry to, an event with my sisters…I stopped short and wondered when in the world my life became so busy. Especially when I all I feel like doing right now is sleeping 24/7!

Winter may slow things down a bit, which will be nice. I look forward to cold, wintery days and snuggling on the couch with the kids and some books I want to share with them. Before sending them out covered in clothes from head to foot because they’re bouncing off my walls and they need to go out no matter how cold it is! It will be good. It’s all good now. Even if it doesn’t allow any spare time to sleep!

1 Girl - 1 Boy

And the tie breaker arrives in June!

To be honest, I think we were a little surprised to find out number 3 is now on the way. Aging has brought so many changes already for me, I wasn’t sure if I was pregnant or changing yet again. And while I’m happy another baby is on the way, I think the other change might have been easier.

I was never this sick with Emry or Ethan. Sleep is the only thing that keeps the constant stomach fluctuations at bay. I don’t feel like eating anything. Sipping water is about all I can do. And while I’m not throwing anything back up, putting anything down doesn’t have any appeal either, even though I do eat. Making preparing breakfast, lunch or dinner all terrible daily ordeals. I have also never felt so exhausted. I honestly think I could sleep all day long. With both Emry and Ethan, I was out running on nearly a daily basis, alternating with kickboxing, pilates, strength training and keeping to my regular exercise routines. Now I fight through nausea every morning, pick up my kettlebell or stretch into down-dog and pray I have enough energy to survive 30 minutes of this. Why? Because even though I still feel exhausted and nauseated when it’s over, I also feel like I’ve done something to keep myself and this baby healthy. Which is always a good thing.

Hopefully, this won’t last much longer. My first trimester will end as December begins. And I’m sorely hoping I don’t feel sick the entire holiday season. One thing is certain, I haven’t any clue if I’m having a girl or a boy. My pregnancies with Emry and Ethan were very different – different enough that I guessed rightly Ethan had to be a boy. But this one? Well, your guess is as good as mine.

Back on the Farm

Fall weather is in full force some days, so we decided to take one of the last pleasant ones and return to Fair Oaks Farm where we had visited a month ago for Ed’s birthday. Since it was just as economical to purchase a year membership as a day visit, we have now more than made back our investment. Plus, we will probably visit at least once more if not twice before our year is out.

This time Grandpa and Grandma joined us for the day. We visited the Crop Building, which we had not visited before, learning about farming, and raising crops, and interesting little things like the longest earthworm ever discovered was 22 feet long. (I am glad I did not discover him, although he would have surely caught a lotof fish!) Then we went over to the pig farm to see the hundreds and hundreds of pigs. Afterwards, Emry enjoyed the low ropes course again. We had lunch, bounced quite a lot on the large blow up bouncing thing, Ethan rode the train at least three times, and we watched a calf be born. (The other cow giving birth was taking her time, the kids were bored and my Dad and Ed certainly had no desire to watch any female – human or animal – give birth; so we didn’t stay for that one.) Emry also caught and brought home in a bottle her newest pets: ladybugs. A mom improved pet!

 “Driving” the old farm truck.

And sitting in the huge chair!

Strawberry Shortcake

As a little girl, my favorite doll toys were Strawberry Shortcake. I can’t remember when I got my first doll. It was before I was five because I do remember getting clothes for Strawberry Shortcake and Lime Chiffon for my 5^thbirthday. I did not have an extensive collection. By the time I really wanted more dolls, only a few dolls were left to purchase in the store. As far as collections went, my My Little Ponies collection was more than five times the amount of my Strawberry Shortcake one.

Several years ago, my mom came across a couple of Strawberry Shortcake dolls I didn’t have and bought them for me. A toy company also reissued a few of the dolls as throwbacks to the 1980s and I got a couple of those for Christmas. Because I was never around to put them up in the attic with my other dolls, I stashed them in a dresser drawer. Where Emry discovered them about a year and a half ago. I let her play with them, promising I would get up in Grandma’s attic when the weather was decent enough and find my other dolls. This past spring, I did that.

While it’s a good thing I wrote down the names of my My Little Ponies and stashed the list in their box (although I need to go back and mark the list with which pony is which because some of them have been forgotten), I have not forgotten any of my Strawberry Shortcake dolls. I have four baby versions: Strawberry Shortcake, Blueberry Muffin, Lemon Drop and Orange Blossom. Then I have Strawberry Shortcake with her cat Custard, Lime Chiffon with her parrot Soufflé, little twins Lem and Ada with their dog Sugarwoofer, and little Butter Cookie with her bear Jellybear. The one my mom picked up in the past few years is little Cherry Cuddler, but I sadly lack her goose. The throwback one I have is Huckleberry Pie. He has a dog whose name I could not remember, so I looked it up on Pinterest (it’s Pupcake). And since I looked it up on Pinterest, when I open the app my feed now includes Strawberry Shortcake characters. I can’t help it. I’ve been pinning them to a board called “Being a Little Girl Again”. And wishing that I owned them all.

Yes, yes. In a lot of ways, Strawberry Shortcake and all her little friends are a little silly. Silly names, funny colors, smells that bring back memories of hours of happy playtime. But things we enjoy as children (or even as adults) are not always very logical. I certainly can’t explain my love for Strawberry Shortcake dolls, but they do make me happy when I see them on Pinterest. And maybe someday I can add a few more to my collection!

Enjoying Fall

Autumn has been a long time coming. After a cold, wet spring that dragged into summer, I guess summer thought it had a right to steal days of our fall. Well into October, it has been 90 degrees. More like living in Texas than in Indiana. Every day I would not only longingly at my own warmer clothes but even at Emry’s and Ethan’s! I was so tired of the heat…and, then, suddenly it got cool. 60s, 50s, 40s at night. Finally!

With more seasonal weather, seasonal activities can now be enjoyed. Like corn mazes, apple picking, pumpkins and fall crafts. The latter of which I fail at. Although the foam leaves (purchased very cheaply at Hobby Lobby), some glue and glitter is basically a no-fail even for me. Even though I will probably be sweeping up glitter from now until we leave this house. But the popcorn ball spiders deserved a place on those Pinterest fail sites. (Which, if I posted to, I would probably be warned off for monopolizing. For that reason alone, most of my pins are for dreaming about only. Sadly. But such is the reality of my non-creative life.) 

Emry had seen popcorn ball spiders in a book we had read. Immediately she determined she had to make them. Since popcorn balls themselves are usually a sure-fail project, I was hesitant. But she kept mentioning them, and I do try to be a good mother. So…

Well, as predicted, the popcorn balls didn’t want to stick together and kind of sagged on the wax paper. And how anyone gets licorice strings to stick into them…maybe there’s a college degree for that for I’m pretty sure it would take me four years of school to master and probably also need a graduate degree. I told the kids they could make one each. I wasn’t about to attempt eight. Thankfully, they’re young. One was enough, and they were both quite happy with their sagging spiders.

 Emry making a face similar to her spider’s.

And Ethan with his spider.

All of us taking a hay ride out to a corn maze.

Apple Picking

One of the very best things about the fall is apple picking. And even though you can start picking apples as early as July, I am of the personal opinion that apple picking should be reserved for the fall. Preferably when it is cool and crisp outside. Something we have had to wait a long time for.

But last weekend the weather was perfect. We could wear long sleeves, but jackets weren’t necessary. There was a breeze, but it didn’t make it too cold. (Although the wedding party celebrating the wedding that afternoon at the orchard may have disagreed. At least I would have if my dress had been sleeveless…) The apple cider slushies may have chilled us a bit, but they were still quite enjoyable. And it didn’t take us long to fill two bags to nearly overflowing with apples. After a tractor ride around the orchard and through the pumpkin patch, we were ready to head home and eat what dinner we could after eating apples (of course). Yummy!

Some of the grass was grown so tall around the trees, it was more like Easter egg hunting than apple picking!

Enjoying the apples…

…and the slushies!

Pets

Aside from two outdoor cats and a guinea pig, I have never had a pet of my own. I’ve contemplated a dog many times during my single life, but was never in a good position to get one. In Texas, I worked too far from my house to make a trip home to let it out convenient. In Minnesota, I wasn’t allowed dogs at my apartment. It was all probably for the best.

Pets are a huge responsibility. I decided this last week while we were at my parents that a caterpillar is the perfect pet. Emry adopted one for nearly the whole week (and we tried to take him home with us, but Ethan got a hold of it and ended its already short life, which was quite dramatic). Emry did everything with this caterpillar: swung on the swing, slid down the slide, put it in her basket when she rode her bike. He even went to town with us and came to the park. But a caterpillar is very low maintenance: easy to feed, requires no cleaning, can travel. All you have to be careful of is little brothers.

While we would love to have a dog if we ever have a house of our own, I sometimes hesitate. Ed talks big about training and caring for it, but most of that will end up on me. Which can be exhausting to think about, as much as I would enjoy a well trained dog that would keep an eye on the kids. Lately Emry has talked quite a bit about having a dog. A little yellow dog. Named Biscuit. (If you haven’t read those books, you really should.) She talks about feeding him, and taking him on walks, and letting him go to Grandma’s to play with Rosie, Keats and Gus. Truly, all kids should have pets at some point of time, but after spending a week with the dogs and cat my parents have inherited, I have laid a few ground rules.

1. Your pet is your responsibility. You will feed it, clean up after it, take it on walks and keep it out of trouble.
2. If you leave home, the goes with you. You can leave behind your furniture, old toys, books and just about any inanimate object, But I draw the line at living pets.

Granted, my siblings have somewhat decent excuses for leaving behind these pets for my parents to care for. Grace more than the others, for even if Keats (who will be 14 in human years in December) could survive a trip to Kenya, he would never survive that heat. Caleb is hoping to soon be settled enough to take Rosie, which would be great for Rosie who is in sore need of a psychologist whenever he is absent. As for Abby’s Gus…well, I don’t think she’ll ever take him back. But I really have no desire to be in my sixties, more-or-less done with hands-on parenting and now caring for dogs and cats (the latter of which I have no intention of having anyhow unless they remain outdoors at all times and chase away rodents).  Although I would make an exception for a caterpillar. In fact, I’ll even happily take two or three. 

Grandpa and Grandma's

My parents and sisters Sally, Jenny and Katey are out of the country. They have gone to Kenya for my sister Grace’s wedding, which was this past Saturday. With both my parents and Sally gone, that leaves three dogs and one cat in sore need of care. So, we moved in to Grandpa and Grandma’s.

As far as Emry and Ethan are concerned, we are on vacation. I would sorely beg to differ. Some moments I think these three dogs are more trouble than my two kids. Or four dogs. Some neighbor’s dog has decided to frequent the property. But at least I don’t have to feed him. Or let him in and out. Or clean up his mess when he’s eaten too much grass. The cat, more or less, is no trouble. She’s kind of a weird cat, in that she doesn’t sound like a cat. She sounds more like a miniature lion. Emry spent the first afternoon trying to teach Lily to meow properly – to no avail. She gave up.

All in all, my life has not changed being at Grandpa and Grandma’s. We brought Emry’s schoolwork, so we do that every morning. I cook and clean. I picked all of mom’s tomatoes, red and green. There were a lot more than I thought, so we got a lot of tomato soup and green salsa out of them. Since Mom has a deep fryer, I also made apple cider donuts. 

But I do like living outside of town, even though our house is convenient to everything. If building on my parents’ property ever became a possibility, we would jump on it. Having a house nearly away from the road with acres of property to explore does allow me to let the kids out the back door and away they can go, with little worries on my part. They play on the swing set and bar set. They get out the bikes, scooter and cousin Beto’s power wheel. (Which Emry drives quite well, but Ethan invariably gets stuck multiple times, likely because he neverwatches where he’s going.) We have found several caterpillars and Emry has caught a couple of butterflies. If, for some reason, they get bored outside there is always the kitchen upstairs, play dough, my old Little People and toys that are abundantly fun simply because they don’t see them every day.

Yes, Emry and Ethan have enjoyed their little vacation. So much so, they’ve both complained about going home. So while the 24-hour delay in Nairobi may not have been pleasant for my parents or sisters, my kids certainly didn’t mind. More time at Grandpa and Grandma’s! Could anything be better?

Emry and Ethan on Grandma’s hippo in her flower bed.