Happy Birthday Oodah

Dear Charis--

Happy belated birthday, Baby Girl! It does not seem possible that you are already four--it feels like it was just days ago that I was cradling you and marveling at your tiny fingers and toes. Now, you have huge, Big Kid fingers and toes, and you use them to do Big Kid things like draw pictures of people you love and pick black raspberries and put Ruby's paci in her mouth (just your fingers--your toes aren't that dexterous.). Moments ago, it seems, I was thrilled that you had said what vaguely sounded like "kitty," and now, here you are, four years later, and I think you know all of the words in the whole world. And you have the ingenuity to make up your own (definitions unknown) words, like chompley and wompley.

I love you for so much--for your independence, how you fearlessly adapt to every situation; for your spunk, how you really do light up a room when you enter it; for your helpfulness, how you are quick to comply every time I ask you for a favor; and for your kind heart, how you treat everyone as a friend, even those total strangers in the grocery store that you are constantly inviting to come to our house. You are so very silly, but when the rubber hits the road, you are also able to be sincere, too: two nights ago you woke up with a nightmare about a bird that was in our house, and we prayed that God would give you sweet dreams, and this morning, you told me that you had asked God for happy dreams last night and He had answered you! I love that you're old enough to be able to talk to God on your own.

I am so proud of who you are growing up to be, even if I am mystified by how you came to be that way. For instance, how is it that two confirmed non-morning people could produce a child that is so perpetually sunny as soon as she wakes? How could we, who enjoy team sports like basketball and volleyball, be raising a little girl whose only desire is to be a ballerina? Your dad can't understand how you can eat a tomato or a pepper and enjoy it, and I am equally stumped by your attraction to olives. How is it that you came to be so fascinated by dresses, and so repelled by clothes like jeans? We may not always understand your choices, but we're proud that you're capable and mature enough to make them.

I love that you will proudly claim the name "Oodah"--I have no idea why Judah calls you that, but it is kind of you to allow it, and even more wonderful that you seem to enjoy it. I love that you are (mostly) sweet to your brother and sister. I love that my only complaint about your treatment of Ruby is that you sometimes show her just a little too much love. I love that you love others, and talk about them often, usually asking if we can go visit them RIGHT NOW. You are a kind girl. I love that.

I am so pleased to be your mother. So pleased that you are so intelligent. Pleased that you are kind, helpful, fun, and sweet. I look forward to many more years of watching you grow! Happy Birthday, Baby Girl. I love you!

Kid Talk

Judah prayed for dinner for the first time today. "God, Thank you. Food. AMEN!!"

Charis sang a sweet song to Ruby today. It went something like this:

Rock-a-bye baby
In the treetop
When the wind blows,
You'd better get out...

I couldn't be more proud.

What a Difference a Stent Makes, etc.

April asked how things were with the stent and kidney stone, so here's a brief update. And after that, kid stuff.

Last Wednesday, I went to the urologist and had the stent removed. It took approximately 43 seconds. Tell me: why did it take a killer epidural and a surgeon to put the dadgum thing in, but it took no pain meds and a simple doctor's office to remove? At any rate, the effects were almost immediate--I am now more comfortable than I have been in months. And as for the stone, well, I still don't know. I go into the urologist's office in a week or two for a follow up (mostly so the urologist can charge exorbitant amounts of money for relatively little effort on his part), at which point they will X-ray (x-rays are so 1991) to see the location and size of the stone. If the miracle I've prayed for has occurred, the kidney stone vanished long ago. If not, we'll likely break it up (and by "we," I do not mean me at all) with lithotripsy. Until then, I take a big bottle of vicodin with me everywhere in case the stone decides to strike again.

On a more humorous note, Judah adds new words to his vocabulary every day. One of the more interesting is theword "Truck." It wouldn't necessarily be interesting, except for the fact that he can't so much say the TR sound, and instead substitutes an F. We just hope there aren't any trucks to play with at Sunday school. Goodness knows what they'd think we teach our kids.

Charis has taken to calling Ruby "My Baby." This is pretty cute. I thought she was just being affectionate until yesterday, when she asked me if we could pick a different name for our baby because she doesn't like the name Ruby. Some days, you just can't win.

Today we take Ruby for her two-week well-child appointment. I forgot to call my mother in law to ask if she could watch the older two munchkins, so I guess we're all taking a field trip! I'm definitely thinking that some McNuggets are in order to help make it a smooth experience. I might also get some for the kids.

Also: I seem to have misplaced the cord that connects my camera to the computer. So I have MANY pictures to show you, but no way to convey them at the moment. As soon as I locate that important piece of plastic, I will post more shots of our little chunk, Ruby. And also shots of her siblings, because while they aren't chinking out at the rate Ruby is, they are still mighty cute, in my estimation.

Peanut, Bubba, and Jelly

A long, long time ago, when Judah came to live with us, I took to calling Charis and Judah Peanut Butter (Charis' nickname) and Judah.

Then I thought it would be cute if Judah's nickname was Jelly, because then they'd be Peanut Butter and Jelly. And besides, there's the matter of all the matching J's. C'mon. That's cute. Well, Judah as Jelly didn't really work, but we did take to calling Judah Bubba on occasion, so, as much as any nickname did, Bubba stuck. So at that point, in my mind, they were Peanut and Bubba. Still cute. (I realize that right now, many of you think I'm completely cheesy. I have no defense for that.)

Well, when we found out we were going to have a third, my mind started really working. How could we incorporate the new one into the PB&J theme? Simple, I reasoned: Charis is Peanut, Judah is Bubba, and the new child would be Jelly. Easy peasy. And when Ruby turned out to be a girl, I was elated--because really, Jelly is a much better nickname for a girl than a boy. I love it when a plan comes together.

One problem.

Charis decided she wanted to be Jelly. She reminds me regularly, too: "No, Mom. I'm JELLY." Apparently Jelly fits her four-year-old sensibilities better than Peanut.

Well, I'm trying to make the switch. I can't tell you how many times I've said, "Hey, Peanut. I mean, Jelly." But I'm committed to making this work, even if it means that this particular amount of cheesiness will transform me into one of those denim jumper-wearing kindergarten teacher-types. It's just a risk I'm willing to take.

So, because I'm committed to making it work, and because I can't continue to call this blog "Charis and Judah" on account of Ruby's existence, I've decided to rename this thing "Peanut, Bubba, and Jelly." The url will be the same, but we'll go by this new and (I think) improved title.

Just thought you should know.

Oh, and by the way, if you should see Charis, call her Jelly. It just might help it to adhere.

Day One

Well, I survived it: Day One of Mother-to-Three-land. My parents left yesterday, and Abe worked today (of course), so I was on my own for the very first time in almost two months. I was pretty anxious about it, but it wasn't all that bad. The only glitch was that Ruby's right eye has been goopy, and since Judah had a plugged tear duct as an infant, I was concerned Ruby had one, too, so I took her (and her older siblings) to the doctor to get it checked out. Nothing like starting out Day One with a solo doctor's office visit with all three kiddos. It wouldn't have been so bad if we hadn't had to wait to see the doctor for so long--their patience (and mine) was definitely tried. Turns out it probably isn't a plugged duct, just a run of the mill infection, probably acquired from a young visitor we had who, as it so happens, also saw the doctor today for an eye infection. Neat. I will say, though, that unfortunate as it was to have had to go in, I did find out that Ruby is gaining weight like some sort of mini-sumo. Considering I was convinced that she wasn't eating enough for even a small mouse like herself to thrive on, this was a huge load off my mind.

I also took Ruby (but not the other two) with me to the store to snap up a few 4th of July cookout bargains and to get her prescription filled. It was a difficult trip because of the stent, but it was refreshing to be out by myself doing something for my family, rather than having others wait on me hand and foot. It was nice to feel productive. Along the same line, I served my kids breakfast AND lunch, and with the help of a rotisserie chicken, I served them dinner, too! And I did a load and a half of laundry! And that's it, because MAN. I've got to work my way back in SLOWLY. Thankfully, we've got nice friends from church bringing us meals, starting tomorrow, and another beautiful friend from church gave us a gift certificate for maid service. So to a certain extent, I can just pretend at productivity without having to commit myself fully, and my family will still be well taken care of. I love helpful friends.

If tomorrow goes as well as today did, I will upload and post some more recent pictures of the kids, specifically our newest little miss. See you tomorrow! (Hopefully)

Hallelujah!

the three of us--just before taking ruby belle home for the first time.

the kids meet their new sister for the first time--judah can't believe how "tiny! tiny!" her toes and "finners" are.

miss charis just wants to be sweet to her new baby.

you wouldn't believe how excited judah was to see "wooby."

hallelujah! we're so glad ruby is here!

And Baby Makes 5!

Just a brief post to announce the arrival of our newest gem, Ruby!

She was born on Friday morning, weighing in at 6 lbs., 12 oz., and measuring 19 inches in length. We're JUST home from the hospital, so I haven't uploaded pictures from our camera yet, but I will soon. She's a beauty, and we're thrilled. Charis and Judah are also very excited, and come home tonight--let the new family begin!

Bed Rest Update

Well, as of last Friday, I'm officially not on strict bed rest. I'm still on "take it easy," but since I'm now 37 weeks along (what a miracle!), my midwife wanted me to be up getting some sort of stamina back and helping my body progress towards labor now. Funny--a couple of weeks ago, I was on a slew of medicine to keep labor at bay, and now we're actually inviting labor to the party. I cannot tell you how ready I am to meet this little lady. No, really--I could try, but I'm not certain it would end up being emphatic enough.

The one glitch is this: because I still have the dadgum stent in, I am unable to be up for very long at a stretch. On my first day of non-bed rest freedom, I may have overdone it a wee bit--and paid the price. So now, I'm just up as much as possible, and the rest of the time I'm laying down. I've tried the whole sitting thing, but my body was not a big fan. I did, however, get a chance to get a haircut and make a trip to Meijer for some post-baby necessities. I thought I'd be able to walk around the store and stretch my legs a little bit, but I was obviously fooling myself; here in the land of the stent, walking more than thirty feet is like taking the long route to Mount Olympus. Instead, I opted for one of those scooter carts. I got some pretty funny looks from people who probably thought I was just being lazy.

In other news, today is Charis' 4th Birthday! I am planning the official Happy Birthday Post, but I want to give it the effort and attention it deserves, which I am at present unable to do. So stay tuned! After Baby Girl arrives and Mr. Stent leaves us, I plan a doozy of a post to celebrate my precious firstborn. I imagine there will also be a celebratory post about our precious Third Born, so stay tuned!

Happy Birthday, Charis! You will always be my Baby Girl.

Since I've Been Gone

Well, it's probably high time for a post. I'm still laying on my side in bed, typing with one hand, so this will probably be brief.

To recap:
I went to the hospital ER in Ohio with severe left flank pain, and was diagnosed with a kidney stone. I was admitted, and the next day they inserted a stent. I do not recommend the stent. It is no fun at all, and is in fact one of the more miserable things I have ever experienced in my life. At the time, I had just entered y 31st week of pregnancy.

Four days later, I endured the longest car ride ever (thanks to the stent) to return home to my family. There, I embarked on a course of bed rest, owing to the fact that I was really incapable of doing much else. My mom stayed with us for a few days to help out and prepare enough food to last us until the next millennium.

I had been home for about five days when I started bleeding and began premature labor. Earlier in my pregnancy, I had been diagnosed with placenta previa, but that condition had been upgraded to "low-lying placenta," which is less serious, but still creates the potential for a C-section. As far as we knew, the bleeding meant that placenta had abbrupted, and we were about to have an emergency C. We rushed to the hospital, where I spent the next five days on some pretty powerful drugs to stop labor. They also gave me a few doses of steroids to "jump start" the baby's development in case SHE came early. Yep, it's a girl! We found out premature girls generally fare better than boys, so we decided to find out the gender of our baby, an unprecedented event in our lives. We met with neonatologists to learn about what would likely take place if our baby was born then, at 32 weeks. Twice during my stay, we seemed to be moments away from having that C section. Obviously, things did not end up that way. When things had stabilized, they sent us home, and prescribed strict bed rest for me. Thankfully, my dad was able to come up and stay with me, and the kids were able to go to Abe's parents' house (during the week) so I could rest as prescribed.

About 3 days later, I spiked a fever and was again admitted to the hospital, this time for a kidney infection (thanks a lot, stent). I was there for three days this time, and they sent me home with some Keflex for the infection, and also Procardia to stave off the contractions that were beginning again.

Three days after that, I went back to the hospital in incredible pain. They basically did nothing for me but tell me to take baths for my "discomfort," and sent me home right away. Two days later, I was still in intense pain, so my midwife advised me to head to the ER. They diagnosed a UTI (thanks again, stent) and gave me Macrobin for the infection and Vicodin for the pain. The nurse told me to take the Vicodin sparingly, so I did. Bad idea.

Two days later, I was back at the hospital, again in intense pain and with contractions five minutes apart. The midwife, after determining that I was not dilated or effaced, gave me more Procardia and told me I could take the Vicodin every 4 hours as I needed for pain. This helped a lot. She then sent me home. At this visit, I had just crossed over into my 35th week of pregnancy. 36 is considered carrying to term, so we were really hoping I'd make it that far. We scheduled an appointment with the midwife for the next Friday for a checkup.

The next Thursday (two days ago), my dad took me to the midwife's office, but not because anything was wrong; I had just completely lost track of the days and thought it was Friday already.

Yesterday, I went to the real appointment, and discovered that I am 75 percent effaced and 1 cm dilated. This really means nothing in terms of delivery time line, but it was encouraging that I was obviously progressing and not having any more bleeding, which means that there is still a chance for a non-C section delivery. She took me off of the Procardia, but I am still (somewhat groggily, most of the time) taking the Vicodin to manage the pain from the stupid stent and kidney stone issues. The stent will not come out until after the baby's arrival, but as of today, I am at 36 weeks, so it could happen any time. Charis was born at 37 weeks, so it could be soon. Judah was born at 39 weeks, so it may not be very soon. At any rate, I continue to be on bed rest in case of other bleeding issues.

Well, this is a very unceremonious ending, but my laptop is about to run out of power, so I will go ahread and post this. Likely, next time you hear fro me, I will be the mother of three!

Out of the frying pan and into the hospital

Again, this will be short, since I'm typing with one hand from a recumbent position. On Tuesday afternoon, after more than a week of kidney-stone-induced bed rest, I found myself in the very scary position of needing to go to the hospital again. This time, it had nothing to do with kidney stones. I will spare you the gory details because they would probably gross you right out, but suffice it to say that when I arrived at the hospital, we were pretty sure that an emergency C section would be in order. At the time, I was 32 weeks along--I'm now 33--and we were briefed by all sorts of medical personnel on what to expect with a per-term baby. They started me on magnesium sulfate to try to stop the labor, and eventually, it worked. It also made me nauseated, churned up all sorts of acid, made me extremely lethargic, and took away any sort of muscle control. My time on that drug was not good. They started me on steroids to try to speed up baby's development, and we waited. Things seemed to have stabilized until Thursday night, when we again believed we'd be celebrating a birthday. We didn't, thankfully. I am now home, but on complete bedrest for the foreseeable future. Please pray that the baby will stay put for many weeks, and pray that my family will survive this time of adjustment. That's all the gusto I have in me for now. If I come by more, I will post again later.

A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to a Relaxing Weekend

I had my first epidural--and did not deliver a baby.

I have to give you the short version because I can't really sit up for very long, which makes things like parenting and housework really hard. But I had--still have--a kidney stone. It's a super lot of fun when you are 32 weeks pregnant and have a large baby resting on your bladder.

I went to the emergency room this past weekend while I was visiting my parents with the kids. Abe was still at home, finishing up drywall, so he wasn't there for the drama. After my dad and I arrived at the ER, they did an ultrasound to confirm their suspicion of a stone and began a regimen of painkillers to help ease the pain. Let me be clear: kidney stones are a million times worse than childbirth in terms of pain. But they couldn't give me any "good stuff" for pain or nausea because of the baby, so they admitted me to the hospital, and then the next day, with the use of a very strong "C-section-type" epidural (which I hated), surgically implanted a stent to relieve the pain of the stone. I was released from the hospital soon thereafter, but my recovery has been particularly slow and uncomfortable, and pretty much all I am able to do is lay on my side all day. It was days before I felt I could travel, so Abe, who arrived on the scene shortly after the surgery, took the kids home while I stayed at my parents' home to recover. I am home now, but I can't do a bloomin' thing except lay on the couch. I am so sick of TV.

I feel very vulnerable saying all of this right now! Sorry if it's too much information. But I wanted to let you know that this has taken me forever to type, and so I will be stepping away from the blog for a few weeks, until either a) I've had the baby, or b) I've had some sort of miraculous recovery. Pray for my husband! He's now got a whole lot on his shoulders.

And pray for me--it's really challenging feeling as useless as I do. While I do want this baby to go to full term so it's healthy, I cannot fathom another 6 weeks of living like this. Pray that my body will figure out how to function so we can get back to life as normal! Thanks so much.

Sleepovers

This past weekend, while Abe and I were enjoying a day away, we farmed the kids out. We sent Charis to her friends Katie and Travis (Charis and Travis apparently think they will be wed someday), and Judah went to Aunt Beth's house to have a sleepover with Gideon and Elise. We've left the kids before, but only with Abe's mom, so this was a new one--and the first time Charis and Judah have been apart for a night.

Uncle Tim and Aunt Beth were over helping work on our house on Friday night, so they just took Judah away with them when they left. Then Abe and I strapped Charis in the van and drove her to our church, where we were dropping her off to be driven to Katie's house by her mom, Tanya. The departures of both children seemed to go smoothly--no tears, no longing looks, no clinging (and the kids did okay, too).

But when we returned home from dropping off Charis (and stopping for ice cream, of course), the phone rang. It was Beth.

"Uh, oh." I said. "What happened?"

"I just need some guidance about what to do. Judah really misses you. A lot. He's in the crib, and he's really, really sad, and I just don't know what to do. Sould I let him cry it out? How long should I wait?"

Poor Judah! I felt terrible that he was so sad. But a part of me was secretly pleased--my little boy misses me. And he asked for me by name. I told Beth to let him cry for a few minutes, as I was sure he was absolutely worn out and would fall asleep soon. We found out the next day that he didn't fall asleep soon--in fact, Beth had removed him from the crib and cuddled with him on the couch, where they both had fallen asleep at about midnight. The next night started out similarly, but Judah ended up falling asleep in the midst of his sadness. Needless to say, he was happy to see us the next day. (And I'm working hard to overcome my jealousy that, even though he asked for me at night, when we walked in to collect him on Sunday, his first words were "Daddy! Daddy!!")

On Sunday, we picked Charis up from church. She seemed to vaguely recognize us ("Hey. You're my mom.") but didn't seem compelled to stop playing and come home with us. I was standing with Tanya, who had hosted Charis for the weekend, as I said to my beloved firstborn, "Charis, I missed you SO MUCH!!!!" Tanya hesitated only slightly before she said, "I wish I could tell you she felt the same." Of course, this is the Charis that never once cried when being left at the church nursery, never scoffed at being left with a babysitter, never seemed sad about our absence--ever. She is the most independent child I have ever known. And while it breaks my heart just a little bit to know that she's perfectly fine with our being gone, I guess I'm glad to know she knows who we are when we return. It's a start...

And Don't Even Get Me Started on the Bottled Water

Hello, all. We had a very nice day today at the ballpark watching the Tigers play the Angels, and while I have approximately the energy of a geriatric cat on Ambien (my friend Jon wrote something like that once, and I frequently imagine myself as that cat--go figure), I figured I'd better write something about it while it's still fresh. And this might take me a while, because apparently, when I'm tired, my fingers don't type very well.

Okay. So, the kids are with others--Charis is chillin' with Katie and Travis, and Judah is hangin' with Gideon and Elise, which means me and the old man have the whole house to ourselves this weekend. Woo Hoo! That might mean something, except for the fact that we have no opportunity whatsoever to sleep in, so the whole no-kids-in-the-morning thing is pretty much wasted. Back to my original point, about the nice day. Are you still with me? 'Cause I'm not sure I am. We got up stinkin' early this morning so's we could get on the road to go spend the day at the ballpark. There was a special program today, see, where Christian speakers get up and share their testimonies and things, and it was pretty cool. So we had to be there at 11 or so for the special program, a mere FIVE hours before the game was to start. We stopped for breakfast beforehand at a local joint called Cracker Barrel--if you're ever in our neck of the woods, you should stop in. You know, they really ought to franchise it or something.

But I digress.

Not that I currently have a train of thought anyway.

It was supposed to be overcast today, with a high of 56 or so, except that NOT SO MUCH. It was sunny and about 95 degrees down near the field, so good thing I wore jeans and a sweatshirt! And not so good about the fact that we wore no sunscreen, because Abe and I both got a little pinker than we would have liked. After the speakers were all done, we had an opportunity to go stand on the field for a "baseball clinic," which, when 5,000 people are in attendance, pretty much amounts to, "Some man is talking about base running--or it may be outfielding. One can't be sure." All the same, it was really cool to stand in the middle of the outfield whilst someone who may or may not be a major league ball player talks about pitching and/or sliding and imagine what it must be like to play a professional sport where 43,000 people come to your house and stare at you while you play.

Really, paragraphs are a lost cause here. I'm just giving you these spaces so you'll have a chance to come up for air.

We still had an hour to kill before kickoff--I mean, before the first two ceremonial pitches were thrown out by some dude named Brandon, and some other dude named, oh, I don't know--we'll say Chris. Who knows. It was not very ceremonial, and do we really need two non-ceremonial pitches? Don't they just cheapen the real ceremonial first pitches? Anyway, to kill some of the time, we thought we'd go find our seats. We had been told they were really good seats in Row 17. And when we heard that, we were all like, WOW! Row 17!! Well, those seats are humdinger! And they were indeed in Row 17, but in Section 329 in the upper-upper deck. And for those of you scoring at home, there are only approximately 21 rows in the upper upper deck, which means we were pert near the top. We so enjoyed the climbing of the stairs that we decided to kill some more time and go back down to the main level for some overpriced treats and then come climb back up the stairs to our version of Row 17--which, if there were any truth in it, they'd call Row 96.

Which brings me to the real travesty of major league ball parks: the overpriced treats.

When we were sitting in the first portion of the program, baking in the sub-Saharan heat (isn't it still April? Isn't it?), I sent the hubby to get us a refreshing beverage. He returned some minutes later with a 32-oz. pop, $4.75 poorer. $4.75. FOR ONE POP. Is that not the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard? I just spent $5.00 this week on a 24-pack of Coke in cans. And while those cans don't hold quite half of the 32 oz. that were in our cup, I was still bitter when I did the mental math and realized they'd marked up my canned pop by about 4,000,000 percent. And don't even get me started on the bottled water; you're not allowed to bring in your own containers of anything, which is presumably so you won't have a choice but to fork out $3.75 for a cheap plastic bottle full of water that likely came from a large faucet in a warehouse somewhere. During the seventh-inning stretch, we were singing about peanuts and cracker jack, and I couldn't help but think that peanuts and cracker jack would set us back about $10. Ah, the ballpark. Where else on the planet would people stand in line to spend $14.50 on a Little Caesar's pizza that they could purchase hot-and-ready a block away for a third of the price?

Moving on from the travesty portion of the program... We went to sit in our nosebleed seats (Wait a minute--my ears just popped from the altitude change--that may still be a travesty) and discovered that the sweltering heat we had experienced only, well, an hour before--heat that made us seriously contemplate spending $5.00 on an icee (AN ICEE!)--had given way to a bone-chilling, Arctic temperature that had us switching our order to the $3.75 hot chocolate. I zipped up my sweatshirt, tugged my hood up over my head, and wrapped myself in my gore-tex to fight off the wind.

Nine innings, a popcorn, nachos, Italian sausage, five waves, and a second mortgage later, we won the game.

Then we walked the block to our parking spot, where we waited for half an hour to move, and then inched along for another half hour until we were shuffled with the rest of the traffic onto the highway to head home. Start to finish, driveway to driveway, we were gone for fifteen hours. We are poorer, bloated, and sunburned. We're stiff from sitting and sore from climbing.

But, you know, it was still a good day.

Go figure.

Now I'm off to curl into a ball, groom my paws, take some Ambien, and go to bed.

Prayer for Matt and Shannon

Matt and Shannon have just learned that their son Oliver has Sanfilippo Syndrome, too. Here's the link to their blog again. Please keep praying for them--they're really in need of it.

My friend Sarah passed along this article about a girl with Sanfilippo Syndrome. Also check out this link for more general information about Sanfilippo Syndrome.

Sweet Nothings

This afternoon, after a busy morning with a visiting friend, the kids were wiped out. I put them down for naps and they didn't even complain, which is truly rare. I waited a few minutes and grabbed a little snack, catching up on blogs and waiting for someone to make a ruckus that needed to be dealt with. For the most part, all was calm. But then I heard a bit of shuffling and moving in my bedroom, which meant that Charis hadn't settled down to sleep, so I popped my head in the door to encourage her to lie down and rest. She was sitting on the bed, having artfully arranged the pillows to form a sort of Charis nest, and simply smiled an innocent smile as I gently scolded her for playing.

After that, I figured it was safe to commence with my usual naptime activities, which don't regrettably include a nap. I sat down at the computer, arranged my own pillows artfully, and set to work.

I had been working for about an hour when I had an overwhelming urge to go cuddle with Charis. I think I was feeling a trifle guilty at scolding her when she really wasn't doing anything so terrible. And with the constant reminders lately of how life is but a vapor, I thought I should probably act on my urge; after all, work will always be there--or not--but my sweet dear won't always be three years old and of good cuddling size. This is the girl who, most mornings, will try to get me out of bed by saying, "Mommy, do you want to come cuddle with your little girl?" I know that one of these mornings, I will wake up and she will be sixteen, and her phrase will be something like, "Mom. You are so lame. Let me have some privacy and watch my shows!" Little girl, indeed. I ought to smack her mouth! But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So I saved my work and quietly crept into the bedroom, settling myself down beside her. She's not really a sleep-cuddler, so I came as close as I could without actually touching her, and I marveled at this beautiful creature: how her hair lay smooth across her face, how her shoulders rose and fell with each gentle breath, how tiny she looked, but how big she has gotten since she first came to our family. I inhaled the moment, trying to etch it in my mind permanently.

Moments later, my sweet little girl rolled over, saw me there, and said sweetly, "Mommy, will you please get out of my bed?"

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

Great Moments in Sports History

This February, it was:
Giants win Super Bowl!!

March Madness produced this headline:
Kansas wins NCAA Championship!!

But perhaps most importantly, April 15th brought you this:
Calvary Bible #2 wins Bible Volleyball League Championship!!!!

Yes, you read that right. The prestigious Bible Volleyball League, made up of 11 teams of varying skill and denominations, held its final tournament last night. Only the top 8 teams were admitted into the tournament, and our team, Calvary Bible 2, with its record of 7-3, was seeded 4th. Our first game was against Prairie Edge, seeded 5th. The first game in the match was a disaster and resulted in Calvary's defeat. But thanks to some inspirational words from their phenomenal and essential(ly useless) coach (me) (oh, and the fact that the team hit their groove and started playing like so many Karch Kiralys), Calvary 2 rallied to win the next two games, clinching the match.

After sitting for a game, Calvary 2 then geared up again to face 8th-seeded Second Christian Reformed 3, who were coming right off of an against-all-odds, bracket-breaking victory against the heavily-favored number 1 seed, Westwood 1. Do you believe in miracles? We do. We won this game handily, in only two games.

Then it was time to sit for a spell again, this time to watch Cherry Creek take on Richland Bible. After watching Richland cruise to victory in this semi-final match, Calvary 2 again took the floor. By this time, everyone in the stands (that'd be me) knew the game could go either way; Calvary 2 had been playing lights-out volleyball all night, but Richland hadn't been sitting, and was well-pumped up after their win. Also, Richland has a nearly 7-footer who needs no approach to be able to slam the ball directly in your face. On the other hand, we have pretty good D, and our hitters, while they fall well short of the 7-foot range, are no slouches, either. So, like I said, it could have gone either way.

But it didn't.

Our team emerged victorious after two surprisingly quick games. The crowd (me, and the guy running the tournament) went wild! The team was stunned--last year, Calvary 2 barely made it to the playoffs, and this year, we were standing atop the (theoretical) podium, receiving the (hypothetical) gold medal! Calvary was awarded a handsome cash prize ($50--we're going out for ice cream next week to celebrate) and the most coveted prize of all: the (used) official 2008 Bible League Game Ball. Lord Stanley's Cup has nothing on the Tachikara SV-5WSC, but I think that goes without saying.

So mark it on your calendars, and tell your grandkids: you were alive when Calvary Bible #2 won sport's greatest prize!

Sowing Tears

A update:

I think that I mentioned that my 20-week ultrasound showed Placenta Previa. During the ultrasound, the technician also noted two spots on the baby's heart known as EIF. These spots represent a slightly increased risk of having a baby with Down's syndrome. I was told by the midwife to curtail exra-curricular activities, at least until after a follow-up ultrasound showed marked improvement.

Well, last Monday, I went back for that ultrasound, and it appears that the placenta is on the move, so things are looking good. I still have the same restrictions and must still go back for follow-up ultrasounds, but we have every reason to believe that a scheduled C section will not be in our future. The technician also took note of the spots on the heart, and looked for other markers that might suggest Down's--the spots were still there, but every other marker was normal. We've been praying about these things, so it was a comfort to see that God had planned for those things to work out in our case. Perhaps He knows we just couldn't do it if they hadn't.

Within the theme of God's plans being beyond our understanding, I'd like to pass along two blogs to you:

The first belongs to some friends from college, Matt and Shannon. I may have already told you about their blog, but I will do it again anyway. Matt and Shannon's little girl, Waverly, has been diagnosed with MPS III, also known as Sanfilippo Syndrome. They are waiting to receive word on whether their little boy, Oliver, has it, too. I will let you read their blog and read about Sanfilippo Syndrome to figure out the heartbreak of their story.

The second I just learned about today. It is the blog of Todd and Angie--you may recognize Todd from the group Selah. Selah's music has always been a source of comfort to me in hard times, and it appears that Todd and Angie are walking through some very hard times of their own. Their little girl, Audrey Caroline, only survived for about 2 hours after she was born. Todd and Angie had known since their 20-week ultrasound that Audrey was not going to live, but I don't imagine that made it any easier to say goodbye.

Pray for both of these families as they each have a difficult journey to take.

God Always Knows

Before Abe was laid off, he was driving approximately 7 minutes to work every morning. When he was re-hired, he was hired by a different company whose main project, which Abe is working on, is about 25 minutes away. From 7 minutes to 25 minutes--for Abe, who had been making the 7 minute commute for more than 4 years, this was a switch. Just the same, we were so thankful to have him back to work that the few extra minutes' drive was a price we were willing to pay.

We had no idea how fortunate he was to be hired by this company at this time, and how relatively short Abe's new commute would be.

It turns out that the shop he used to work for is encouraging all of its workers to procure cars with good fuel economy because all of its jobs--for the next several months, at least--are not local. Abe spoke with a fellow today who works for Abe's former employer. He lives about half an hour north of us--and is still driving over an hour and a half north to get to work. Some of the locations of the company's jobs are so far removed that the company has rented houses for its workers to live in during the week--the commute there and back would just eat up too much daylight. So these guys travel up there at the beginning of the week and return home to their families on the weekends.

Praise the LORD that He knew all of this! We had no idea this was the case with Abe's former employer. In fact, we were stymied by the fact that there were men still working with the company who had far less seniority, if you will. And when a friend of his got called back to work and Abe didn't, we were discouraged. We couldn't understand why they weren't asking Abe back. We couldn't understand, but it turned out that it was because God was at work with a better plan.

This just goes to show you that God Always Knows. He knew that if Abe worked for his former company, he'd likely be working far, far away from his family--possibly away from us for days at a time. Now we realize that a 25 minute commute is a huge gift. God knew, and worked in His amazing ways to put Abe out of the minds of the people who might have asked him back to work--and into hours of commute. God knew this would take my husband away from me. And when I plan to be in labor delivering a baby in just a few short months, and when you consider that with my last baby, I arrived at the hospital at 8 centimeters, there probably wouldn't have been time for Abe to make it back from whatever distant land he was working at, a 25 minute drive is a blessing. God knew all of this.

We are so grateful that though we don't always understand how or why God works, He always does, and His plan is always best. Amazing!

It's Quite Easy Being Green

Hello, all. I have a couple posts a-brewin' on the stove for you, namely one about dear, two-year-old Judah, and one about our construction project.

They're just not ready yet.

So instead, I'll say just one more thing about the delights of reusable shopping bags. I posted about how much I loved them several months back, and remain devoted to them as a means of conveyance for all of my purchases. The one thing about them that I lament, though, is that they don't fit very well into a purse, so if you're on one of those spur-of-the-moment shopping jaunts and don't happen to have a bag stashed in your car, you have to use whatever landfill-clogging, environment-destroying plastic bag they throw your way.

Not anymore, my friends!

Today I was at Target, and found a tote bag that zips into its own pouch for easy portability! Super! The tote itself is not quite as roomy as the standard grocery-bag type totes that are made of the same non-woven polypropylene (whatever that means). But it zips to roughly the size of a ladies' billfold, and it holds quite a bit! And it costs 99 cents! I am only slightly excited about this! Here's a link to the company that makes them. It's just an informational site, so if you, too, are interested in carrying this very handy zippable tote, you'll have to go to Target to get your own.

Dear Judah

Dear Judah--

Well, it's official: You're two years old! I have so much I want to say to you about who you are becoming, and about how proud I always am of you, so I will just jump right in.

Here's the funny thing about being two: you will have absolutely no recollection of this age when you're grown up. That makes me a little bit sad, because I want you always to remember this beautiful time: the time where your sister was your best friend, the "meow" was the funniest thing on the planet, and you were always more than willing to share. The time where you still liked to rock before you went to sleep, still slept with "Muirne,", and still liked to wear footie pajamas. The time where your greatest thrill in life was going out to work with dad, or just going outside for any reason at all. The time where no food was your enemy, and fruit snacks were your best friend. The time when television held little allure, blocks and cars were still a novelty, and wearing funny hats around the house was your idea of being silly.

See? So many good things. Things that you may not even recall.

Will you recall climbing out of your crib for the first time? Or the day you realized that not all four-legged canines were not called Muirne, but were, instead, doggies? Will you remember when you figured out how to say important boy words like couch, pizza, pop, and poop?

More importantly, will you remember all of the precious times you crawled into bed with mom and dad and smothered us with hugs? Some of those other things may slip our minds, too, but not this one. This one will stick forever.

You are shaping up to be one of the best people we know. You are so loving and kind, so pleasant to be around and play with, and just generally a cool kid. You play well with others and share. You love to dance. At night, when Charis asks if we can sing a song, you oblige her with a "La, La, La" creation of your own. Then, you lay down on your back, tuck your hands behind your head and let out a deep and satisfied, "Aaahhhhh." This never fails to crack us up. You love to read, you love to hide under blankets, you love to sneak a hot dog or three out of the fridge. You love to "shovel" snow with my dustpans. You love to help me cook. I cannot say enough good about you, Judah!

For all of that, you do have a stubborn streak. What can I say? Your parents are two headstrong people, so you didn't have a fighting chance; you were always meant to be a little bit strong-willed. We fight those battles with you sometimes, to be honest. But in the end, you always end up with that wonderful smile and charming guffaw, and the whole thing is forgotten.

We marvel at how you seem to grow and mature daily, adding new words, actions, and capabilities to your repertoire at an alarming rate. You are turning into a bona fide boy right before our eyes--no more of that baby stuff for you. It's always fun to watch, and sometimes a little bit sad. The important thing for you to remember, though, is this: no matter how you change, no matter how you grow, no matter how many of these things you remember or discard, we will always love you completely and be awed at the fact that God chose us to be your parents. We feel so blessed and humbled that He gifted us with you.

Happy Birthday, Judah!