Pure three-year-old genius

A few nights ago Jack threw a massive tantrum at the arrival of a cheese quesadilla on his dinner plate instead of the cheese sandwich he had been hoping for. He knew that a special ice cream treat followed dinner, and seeing as how he was not about to eat this dinner, well...you could see the wheels rolling in his head. Thrashing and screaming and kicking and stiffening...he brought out the works. He had a few time outs in his room to calm down, but each were followed by fairly quick retreats back into tantrum posture upon seeing that the quesadilla was still sitting on his plate. We were, as usual, busy with the other kids and so we let him roll around on the floor for awhile. Suddenly I realized he had stopped crying and was walking toward me carrying pieces of his quesadilla. He handed me a piece with a sweet, "Here Mommy" and then handed one to Eric. Then he announced, "Okay, people? Eat the dinner." Eric and I tried to stiffle our explosive laughter at his manipulative skills & creative out-sourcing plan for his dinner...but then reminded him that HE had to eat his own dinner...and he then took his tantrumming to new levels of screaming. We ended up putting him to bed without dinner, and as we were walking out we heard him say, "Okay (the way he prefaces so many comments these days): next time? Eat the cheese sandwich."

My other favorite comments from this week:

MOM: "Jack, it's time for bed."

JACK: "Um, no thank you bedtime!"

AND

JACK: "Ellie, it's time for nap!" (which he looks forward to so he can do special things with mommy like bake cookies and play outside in the snow)

MOM: "Jackson, I am the mommy. You don't tell Ellie what to do."

JACK: "Okay, Mommy. You say, "Ellie, take a nap!""

And while we're at it...my current favorite Ellie phrases:

"tink-oo" (thank you)
"dee-beckum" (you're welcome)
"DaDa bake up!" (Samantha wake up)
"Deddie Tay-ohs" (veggie tales)
"brock-ery" (broccoli)
"tucker" (sucker)
"teekee boppers" (fishy crackers)
"Ah-llie" (Ellie) (she pronounces her name better at 2 than Jack does at 3 1/2; he still calls her "Eh-yee"!

I love these stages of language development!

So I'll just tag on here, since I never know when I'll have more time to blog...Samantha is army-crawling, almost sitting up by herself, laughing, eating solid foods, and got her first tooth on Thanksgiving day! What a big girl. We also have somehow skipped right over the 3-6 months clothing size...she was 0-3 for almost 6 months and now is almost entirely in 6-9 or 6-12! Strange. We are loving this stage with her except that she is DYING to get out of our arms, even though she can't really go anywhere, but she lunges all over the place. She's a hard one to hold still these days.

We have been crazy-busy this past week (I had four photo shoots) so we took a family day yesterday; spent the morning at the Arboretum hiking in the snowfall--so beautiful. Enjoyed a model train display, and then had lunch together as a family. What a relaxing day and a wonderful way to end the Thanksgiving Break--so thankful. We hope you all had a wonderful celebration, too.

Oh--I CANNOT sign off without letting you all (whoever even keeps up with us anymore!) know that we got a settlement for our luggage loss! We are VERY thankful for that, and I now have some new shoes and a few new shirts and fleeces, and Eric got TWO new suits at a buy one/get one sale! We are so thankful to have that all resolved and to be able to replace a few of the things we lost and get a few things we've been needing.

And now...I'm off to bed! Happy Tuesday.

Guess Who's 2?

Elisabeth Kate - 2 years old

Happy Second Birthday, Baby Girl.

"Ticker Tweet!" 2008

At Jack's preschool parade; he grabbed Ellie's hand as he walked by and said, "Come on, Ellie!"

Where, oh where, have the Durbins gone?

October has been a B-U-S-Y month for us. Eric has been adjusting well to his new job, but is keeping a very full schedule. I'm teaching piano lessons a couple nights a week, and he's working part time on the weekends so we're like ships passing in the night.
Samantha was baptized a couple weeks ago at our church (seen in the pictures here). It was a beautiful ceremony and a moving reminder of how precious and important the body of Christ is in our lives and the lives of our children. We love our church!
Jack is enjoying school SO much. He had his first field trip to a local farm a few weeks ago, and I had my first "room mom" experience to help the kids make applesauce. We also went last week for his Halloween parade (pictures to come) and I saw enough Thomas'/Disney Princess' to last me a lifetime. We love his teachers and have been so thankful for this school! He is growing so much verbally, emotionally (is really fascinated with being "scared" these days, no thanks to all the TOTALLY FREAKY Halloween decorations around town this month), and even physically--he's one of the tallest kids in his class! My favorite phrases of his right now are: "I can't like it, Mommy!" (when he doesn't like something) "What's going on here, guys?" and "It's too bright in here; we need more ice cream!" He's currently recovering from a stomach virus he picked up this week, poor kid.
Ellie is growing like a weed, too. The three main themes of her life right now are: 1. Be JUST like Jack, 2. Do EVERYTHING myself, 3. Say no as many times and as sassy as I can to see how mommy and daddy react. It's very sweet to see her and Jack's relationship blossoming. And speaking of doing things herself...she also potty-trained herself this month. You read that right. One day she took off her diaper, said, "Mommy, potty," ran in there, got the potty seat put on the potty, climbed up, and PEED. Then got down, flushed, and ran on her merry way. No M&M's, no coaching, no over-the-top affirmation...just did her business and went back to playing. I was astounded how easy it has been. She's still in between...but she's almost completely trained. She still will not let us help her at ALL--with any step of the process. It's hilarious to watch after it being such a big process with Jack. Our favorite phrases of hers these days are: "teekee boppers" (fishy crackers), "chickens" (anything chicken related, and ALWAYS plural), and "ticker-teet" (take a guess what that means!).

Samantha is.....the best baby ever! She's very content most of the time...is drooling like crazy so we are changing her entire outfits 3-4 times a day because they are soaked, even through bibs. She has no teeth yet, but I look every day to see if there are any emerging yet! She's pretty much sleeping through the night, with one early morning feeding. She is very sweet, loves her brother and sister SO much, and is a little peanut (she's still in 0-3 months clothes!).

Last but not least...the thing that has been keeping me the most busy and probably the sole reason for blog negligence this month...can be found here: www.annikadurbinphotography.com. This has come together in amazing ways this past month, and we are trusting God to bring me business as a way to "help out" the family pot. I am also so thankful to have something to do that not only brings in money, but is something that I enjoy and look forward to. Last week during one of my shoots the mom was telling me how much she appreciated me coming out when I had three little ones at home. I looked at her and said, "Seriously? Thank YOU. I get a break from my three little ones, get to be outside in the beautiful fall weather doing something I enjoy, AND making some money." What a gift! So book your session soon, if you are in the area, as November slots are already filling up! (What's a blog good for if I can't put in a little plug for the family business?)

Super-cute Halloween pics to come!

It's my duty, as a blogging mom

Due to the nature of so many of my Overwhelmed-and-Outnumbered Mom Rants, I felt I owed it to our family blog to write about nights like tonight, as they are rare but DO exist.

Tonight I was on "combat duty" all by myself (Eric was at class), so I had been gearing up for a rather tough evening.  But there's something about knowing all day that I'm going to be flying solo come bedtime that helps me prepare mentally and emotionally for what lies ahead, so I was hopeful.  

Now, you may think I'm being overly dramatic to refer to the bedtime hour (what we call "magic hour") in such a way.  But PEOPLE.  Have you ever put three kids under three to bed at the same time?  It's enough to make you want to rip your hair out.  Every last one.

Oftentimes both Eric and I head into the bedtime routine in great moods, full of energy, with a full agenda for post-bedtime.  But something happens in that half hour to forty-five minutes that so often spits both of us out of the kids' room exhausted, irritated, and just plain worn down.  So facing magic hour by myself takes some serious mind preparation.  

But then there are nights like tonight.  Nights when the kids obey so well when asked to help put away the bazillion toys spread all around the living room.  (They even sweetly sang the clean up song together while they dumped their trains into the bin.)  Nights when I don't have to chase or wrestle anyone into their jammies, or hold anyone down on the floor to brush their teeth (not really, but some days it seems like it!).  Nights when for whatever reason all three kids have very cheery, calm, sweet dispositions that make getting ready for bed such a joy.

Then tonight we had an unexpected interruption: Grandma needed a ride to Papa's concert.  So we put on our shoes and got on our hoodies (yes, Fall is creeping near), got a special treat of chocolate milk in our sippies to take in the car, and headed outside.  The kids were so tickled to be outside in their jammies in the dark!  They chased each other around the driveway a few times, giggling as they went.  Then they piled into the car without complaint (a miracle) and off we went.  Jack kept saying, "Okay, Mommy, go on a trip!"  When we crossed the train tracks Jack said, "Way to go, Mommy!"  We arrived at Grandma's house amidst excited squeals and shout-outs to "Mama" (what Ellie calls my mom).  All the way over to the college Jack kept giggling and saying, "Mommy, da trip SO FUN!"  (Boy, takes so little to please this kid, huh?)

After dropping Grandma off and waving to Papa, we headed towards home.  But on the way we passed the college soccer field, where they were practicing with all the stadium lights on, and I couldn't help stopping to let the kids watch out the car windows.  They ooed and ahhed over and over excitedly.  Samantha couldn't see anything, but she was back there cooing as well.  At last we said goodbye to the soccer field and went on our way.

THEN, much to my delight, I discovered I had enough change in the car to get a small latte, so we took a little detour to Starbucks.  When we pulled into the drive Jack said, "Yay, cop-pee for Mommy!"  (HEY.  Gimme a break...I don't get coffee THAT often, I don't know why he was so excited about it.)  It was delicious and soothing (and full of caffeine!), a perfect addition to an already swell evening so far.  As we finally headed home, Jack began pointing out the airplanes and stars in the sky, which then prompted Ellie, who had been quiet for some time, to burst into a rousing rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" that went something like this:

(sung at the top of her lungs)

"Dee-doh, dee-doh deet deet tar

How I want you are

Uppah-bub da high

Yike-ah die-mon in-a sky

Dee-doh, dee-doh deet deet tar

How I want you are."

(she used to sing, "how I what what what you are"; cracked me up every time!)

(Katie, how about that for a business name: "How I Want"??  Haha...)

Then she started up again, with Jack chiming in with his own rendition, also sung at the top of his lungs:

"Twinko, twink0 yi-deh stawr,

How I wonder what you awr,

Up above da word so high,

Yike a diamond in da sky

Twink0, twinko yi-deh stawr,

How I wonder what you awr."

(My spell check is going nuts.)

Ah, the sweet off-key sound of my babies singing together.  Makes my heart ache just a little, that so-full-of-joy-and-contentment-it-hurts ache.  

When we got home I reminded them that it was time for bed and we were going to go in and go straight to their room.  I carried a barefoot Ellie in, and went back to get Samantha.  When I finally made it inside they both had their coats and shoes off, and Jack had collected all the necessary bedtime friends and blankies and was sweetly passing them out.  We filed one after the other back to their room, and they both climbed into beds all by themselves (Ellie's figured out how to climb into her crib but not out of it yet.  Keeping fingers crossed on that one.) and we turned out the light.  There was no crying, no begging for water, no pleas to go potty again.  Then we sang our nightly anthem of Jesus Loves Me (the kids' version: Jesus Wuves Me), prayed, kissed, and I walked out with Samantha in my arms. I went in to my room, nursed her, laid her down, and they've all been quiet ever since!  

These evenings are great, friends.  These are nights that feel like little gifts plunked in between the really hard ones.  These are nights I love being a mom.  L-O-V-E it.  I so enjoy each moment, each little conversation, each mispronounced word and out of tune song.  I love coming out of bedtime smiling at the thought of their sweet night-night kisses and their "I wuve yous" as I left the room.  After all were down I came into the living room, looking for their shoes and coats to hang up.  I looked around and then noticed that Jack's hoodie was hanging on his little hook by the door, his shoes sloppily set on the shelf, next to one of Ellie's shoes (the other of which is on the floor beneath the shelf where she most likely gave up trying or got distracted), and her hoodie hanging by a thread with both arms inside out (she tries so hard, bless her heart!).  (Insert heart swelling and fond sighs.)

These nights I shake my head at how enjoyable and effortless the whole evening seemed.  It even made me wonder why other nights are so hard.  Is it me?  Is it the kids?  Probably a little of both.  But tonight, I relish this night.  I should probably go do dishes or laundry or sweep the floor, but I think I'll wait a bit.  These are nights worth savoring.  

Well, my reheated-in-the-microwave latte is calling to me...and the garage door is opening signaling my husband's arrival home, so I'll sign off.  I hope wherever you are, you are having as lovely an evening.  

First Day

(Our first-ever First Day of School photo!)

Yes, today was Jack's first day of preschool.  He was SO excited.  Almost hyper, even.  Everything he talked about this morning had the word "school" in there somewhere.  He was beside himself when we got in the car, kept saying his teacher's name and talking about his new bag and telling Ellie about "Jack's school."  It was great.

I told my mom yesterday that a number of my friends have recently sent their kids to school for the first time, and that it was a very emotional experience for them.  I got choked up reading their accounts of sending the kids off, about how time flies, and could they really be ready for school?  But for some reason I have not been emotional at all about Jack going to school.  I surmised that it was due to the fact that I've been a teacher, I've been the one receiving the kids from teary-eyed parents, assuring them we'd have a great time.  I know what goes on during the day, I have an idea of what Jack will be doing, and I have been so excited for him to be able to enter into one of my most favorite arenas: the classroom!  Plus, my mom taught preschool for eleven years and I often helped her, so it thrills me in a nostalgic way for him to be headed off into this new world.

 

(This is what they gave me when I told them to smile.)

As we pulled into the parking lot today he shouted, "SCHOOL!  There it is, Mommy!" and chattered on and on while we waited in the drop off line.  When his teacher opened the car door he yelled, "Brinley!" (we're still working on "Mrs") and began a long string of mosty unintelligible chit-chat about his bag and his sisters and school.  He hardly even turned around to say goodbye, he was so excited.  The teacher laughed and said she'd never seen a child so enthusiastic about his first day! 

As I started to pull away Ellie began crying and saying, "Me!  Me!  Mommy, Me!!"  I felt so bad.  I told her we would go get a little treat just for Mommy and Ellie, and that contented her.

And then it happened.  I noticed the empty seat in the back of the car.  And I started to cry.  And I couldn't stop.  I did NOT see this coming!

(Jack getting silly)

I took my girls to Starbucks and nursed a Double Non-fat Toffee Nut Latte WITH WHIP (so much for non-fat!) for awhile and it helped.  Then we popped in Trader Joe's for a few grocery items; I immediately noticed that the majority of shoppers were moms with toddlers!  Must be magic hour.  I don't get out much in the mornings so I found this slightly amusing.  Ellie got an apple fruit bar, which she promptly inhaled, and pink balloon (to match her outfit) at the checkout and she was a happy camper.

The morning passed fairly quickly and it was time to pick him up.  When we pulled up to the door I heard him yell, "MOMMY!!" and all the teachers standing there laughed.  He was a huge ball of energy and could not stop babbling loudly in the car.  He was talking so quickly I couldn't make it all out but I got the general idea: "Mommy!  School!  So fun! Play trains!  Wash hands!  Mommy, playground!  Mommy, snack at the table!  Mommy (suddenly increasing in volume)--HAPPY BIRTHDAY CUPCAKE!  Yay!!!!  Mommy, have juice!  (throw in totally fake belly laugh) SO FUN, Mommy!" 

I couldn't get a word in the whole ride home.  He has been hyper (thanks to Joe's birthday cupcakes, no doubt) and about three volumes louder since arriving home.  When Daddy came home from work Jack excitedly repeated his school highlights, complete with fake laugh.

Sigh.  Another milestone.  I'm so thankful that it was a good experience and that he (and I) survived the morning.  I am done with my tears and look forward to Thursday morning--maybe I'll actually be able to get something done! 

(Totally unsolicited sweetness!)

Happy First Day of School, Baby Jack.  I love you.

Jack couldn't look more bored in this picture, don't you think?

This is from a shoot I did of the kids a few weeks ago but haven't had time to weed through all the pictures yet...which seems to be a theme in my life right now: not enough time.

Once again I am very, very behind on blog writing.  I have a stash of blog entries going on in my head, which kind of amuses me at times; I roll my eyes at myself for having an imaginary blog, where the posts that I write in my head while doing dishes or nursing or cleaning up toys get posted but read by no one.  Sad, really.  But I also wondered recently what my life would be like if I didn't have a blog, if I didn't have a place to document our family life, like potty training and lost luggage (which, by the way, is still lost), birth accounts and foreign travel, motherhood mishaps and childhood milestones.  Would I feel less burden for having to record these significant events?  Who even cares?  

On the one hand, I view blogging as kind of a year-round family newsletter, a way of keeping in touch with friends on a more regular basis.  So that makes me feel like I should be making time to sit down and "report" on such things as Eric's new job or Jack going to school, for all of you who care and want to know.  So perhaps my blog is like one big mass email.

On the other hand...there may be a good reason people send out yearly newsletters at Christmas time: because there is no expectation for detailed accounts of all the year's events, so instead you end up with nicely (or so you hope) summed up highlights and significant happenings, making you feel like you're caught up on that family's life and are still "in touch."

But...with blogging there also seems to be some community and interaction, with the comments and blog-hopping that goes on.  And for people who really care, like grandparents and close friends, blogging provides instant access to pictures of grandkids doing everyday things, allowing us to get to know each other's kids and families fairly well.  

However...I'm not sure how I feel about so many people knowing so much about my family!  It's very odd when I see someone that I hardly know and they tell me how much they love my blog, and I'm like, "I'm sorry what was your name again?  And how did you find my blog?  (i.e. which friend-of-a-friend sent you here)"  When I post or write things I usually have a certain audience in mind, like my closest girlfriends and a few members of our extended family.  But recently my former youth pastor (hi Vince!) told me he enjoyed my post on potty training and I thought to myself, "Whoa.  How many times did I use the word poop in that post?  How many other people read that post?"  

Anyhow...I know this post is borderline going-nowhere, but it's stemming from waaaaay too many thoughts about blogging and those imaginary posts I mentioned above and the guilt I've felt at being so behind at posting...and it's also almost 11:30pm so I think now I'm just rambling.  And everyone is asleep so nothing is tearing me away from blogging at this point.  So I could go on .  And on.  But I won't.

We have had an eventful last few weeks, with the highlights being Eric starting his new job, Jack starting preschool, and Eric's 28th birthday, to name a few.  I will try to report on them in Christmas letter-like fashion here:

--Eric's job: He was hired as the Administrative Assistant to the Vice Provost at the college here.  I still don't know exactly what that means, and I'm not sure he does either, and I'm not even sure the people who hired him know what it means for that matter!  The position is a slightly altered version of its previous one, so it's got a learning curve to it for sure.  It's been interesting for Eric to go from working security for so many years, and seeing one side of the college, and then to jump all the way to the President's office and be in such a different environment.  Good, but different.  He is generally enjoying it and we are grateful for the regular hours.  He is taking a Dale Carnegie course one night a week and also working some overtime at security, and I am teaching piano lessons one or two nights a week so we are busy.  But very, very thankful for this new position.  (By the way, for those of you who are regular readers...this job opportunity came up the day after my night-time "encouragement" from the Lord that I wrote about a few weeks ago, when I felt His assurance that He was holding us so close to Himself!)

--Jack's Preschool: Jack officially starts this Tuesday at a church preschool for 3's that meets two mornings a week.  I have watched several friends of mine send their kids to school for the first time this year, and all the accompanying emotions, and as I read/heard about their experiences I got teary-eyed and weepy and emotional.  But when it came time for Jack, I was just...excited.  I told Eric that I felt bad that I haven't been more sentimental about my baby going to school, but I think that it's because I've been a teacher, and I've BEEN in school with kids, and I (generally) know what happens while they're away from mom and dad, and I'm just so excited for Jack to get to experience that!  My mom taught preschool for a very long time so I am thrilled to see how he does and how much he loves it.  We had orientation last week and while it was a bit surreal, I am so touched by the ministry of these loving teachers and am so thankful that he will be in such a nurturing environment.  He was smitten with the train table...that's all he talks about when we ask about "Jack's school."  He was very excited the day we went for our visit, kept talking about Jack's school all morning, and while we were there he kept pointing at things and saying, "Mommy, Jack's trains!  Mommy, Jack's blocks!  Mommy, Jack's books!" as if just because this was "Jack's School" that meant everything in it was also his.  So sweet.  He did have a little freak out about snack time, as he didn't like the snack (I know, big surprise).  We'll see how he does without me around.

And finally (see, I am just not cut out for Christmas-letter-highlight style updates!!)

--Eric's birthday: we got to celebrate twice this past week; once with our good friends Brandon and Amy (dinner out!) and again tonight with Sarah Kay and Nate and little Sophia who were in from out of town.  (Jack and Sophia went NUTS over each other and were laughing hysterically at each other most of the time.  So wonderful and weird to watch our children play together!)  Happy Birthday honey!

Those are the significant events from the past few weeks, for those of you that are keeping up.  That's all I have the energy for tonight.  Perhaps in another few weeks I can think of something more creative to write about.  For now...goodnight, friends! 

Before you pass out: this is NOT my belly!

My friend Nancy was due almost two weeks ago with her baby boy, but apparently he's nice and snug and not in a hurry to come out...so we were able to get some pregnancy shots last night, just in time for her to be induced this morning!  Talk about last minute.  This was one of my favorite shots.

You Know You're Tired When...

Earlier this morning I was changing the kids from pj's to play clothes when a Don't blame me, I only got three hours of sleep last night total-moment occurred.  I retrieved clothes from their drawers and then proceeded to undress Ellie from her syrup-covered jammies.  As I began to dress her she kept saying loudly, "Mommy, Dak dirt!!  Mommy!!  Dak dirt!"  I wasn't really paying much attention until she got really loud and in my face.  I squatted down in front of her, frowning, trying to figure out what she was saying.  Suddenly all the pieces came together in my fog-brain: I had dressed her in "Dak's dirt," i.e. Jack's shirt!

This post is full of self-pity. But it's short.

We still don't have our missing luggage!  

The airlines has called every day to "check in" with us on the "status" of our bag (um, hello: STILL LOST); it's driving me crazy because each time they have called they ask for more "specific information" about the contents of the bag.  When they called again tonight I felt like saying, "So let me see if I understand correctly.  You have found a large black suitcase with a light blue Pottery Barn Kids blanket in the front pocket along with a birth certificate for Elisabeth Durbin; inside there are a pair of men's Doc Marten sandals and black dress shoes and black belt, a girl's pair of pink sandals with flowers, boys' brown sandals, a grey GAP sports coat, men's khaki pants, a small black make-up bag with pink writing on the outside (full of make-up), a black toiletry bag containing a hair brush, an expensive electric toothbrush, contacts, toothpaste, hair product, and deodorant; a bunch of Huggies diapers size 6 and Pampers size 1, lots of children's and baby clothing; a black woman's hoodie, two children's swimsuits, and women's khaki pants and red zip-up sweater...and you want to know MORE SPECIFIC ITEMS to be sure that you have the right bag?????"

I'm starting to think they've lost our bag for good.

Ugh.  This sucks.  Poor me.  (See? Self-pity.)  

*Addendum: SK, it's not the make-up that kills me, but that's because I'm so cheap about make-up that I just buy the Maybelline "black" mascara and I'm good to go.  (Which I did this morning, walked with all three kids to CVS, to get make-up because we have a work dinner tonight.)  No, it's the clothes that kill me.  For starters, everyone knows when you go on a trip--especially for one day--to see friends you haven't seen in awhile and to meet Grandpa, you don't pack your "play clothes."  So some of my favorite outfits of the kids' are in there, especially a little sundress for Ellie and her cute little blue swimsuit, and Jack's Cubs t-shirt, and a darling little (Gymoboree!) outfit for Samantha that was a gift from a friend.  And a really nice grey sports coat of Eric's that is very versatile and he wears all the time...not to mention his black shoes that also go with everything (poor guy--not much of his wardrobe goes with his brown shoes, so he's had to be VERY creative this week!).

But selfishly, it's MY clothes that are really getting to me...  Any mom knows how hard it is to find well-fitting clothes during and especially after pregnancy...sometimes you wear maternity for a little while afterward, sometimes the lucky few fit into normal clothes again pretty soon.  I'm at an in-between period where some of my shirts are maternity still and some are regular, same with pants.  So both pairs of pants I took this weekend were my absolute favorite--one a pair of khaki maternity that still fits and looks good worn after pregnancy--and my only khaki pair!  The other was a gift from my dad, that I JUST GOT, a black pair that fit me perfectly and are SO comfy and go with almost all my shirts.  And then just last week I had finally gone and bought some new shirts for myself and found exactly what I needed and they all FIT (a miracle!) and mix and match well and I was so thankful...all of that, gone.  Sigh.

I know there are more important things in the world, but it's so frustrating when I can't afford to go out and replace all this.  So now, instead of being down the new clothes, I'm also down some of the old, and people, you don't want me to wear my black and grey yoga pants all the time.  Believe me.  Do you think they'll let me wear jeans to church?  Cause that's what I've got left.  Jeans and yoga pants, and some very old (i.e. from Jack) maternity shirts.  (Don't worry, SK, I didn't lose any of your stuff!!)

I'm also unsure what to do about Jack's blankie.  It's been his special blankie since he was little, and he is really missing it.  Every morning when Eric leaves Jack says, "Daddy go find Jack's blankie on airplane?"  :( :( :(  Today he was watching a Dora and they were going to the "Lost City" where all the lost toys go, and he turned to me and said, "Mommy!  Jack's blankie!" pointing at the TV.  :( :(  :(  Do I go out and buy him a new one?  Will he even want a different one?  Do we just let it go and consider this a good time to cut him off from his comfort item?  Last night he woke up multiple times just whimpering.  I think he was looking for his blankie.  

Sorry.  This is now a LONG post full of self-pity.  I don't mean to be so down about it all--it's just so frustrating; the airline called this morning and said now that it's been five days they are transferring our case to the AA Central Baggage Claim department in Dallas, and they are going to send us forms to fill out that we have to return within 30 days.  30 days!!  

I'm quickly losing hope.

To Tejas and Back

So Jack fell down an escalator today.

We arrived at the Dallas airport later than expected this morning and the curbside gate agent was rushing us upstairs to see if they could still get us on the flight back to Chicago.  As he hurried up the escalator with our suitcase, I followed behind with Samantha in her car seat and two carry-on bags in my arms.  Eric put Jack onto the escalator and then turned back to get Ellie in the stroller (with Jack's car seat atop it), not realizing that Jack would totally freak out.  He lost his balance and was reaching out for anything to steady himself--unfortunately I was too far away to grab his hand and was fearful of setting Samantha down in her car seat on the escalator steps, as we were nearing the top, in order to run down to him.  So to my horror I watched poor Jack try to grab the wall, which as you know does not move with the escalator, and after fumbling for a few seconds he suddenly went toppling backwards, head-over-heels, down the stairs.  I screamed to Eric, who lunged forward to catch him, and in doing so he let go of the stroller, which then tipped over backwards with Ellie in it.  All I could see were her little feet dangling in the air as the stroller calmly continued its ascent...so scary.   By the time we got to the top of the escalator there was a crowd of people standing around (drawn by my frantic yelling, "Eric! Eric!" no doubt) and our hearts were pounding fiercely.  Both kids are fine, miraculously.  Jack managed to come out of it with only a scraped knee and a need to be held for much of the afternoon.  I am so thankful they were not hurt worse than those boo-boos.

Early last week we decided to head to Austin, TX for Eric's ten-year high school reunion that was planned for this weekend.  Originally we had planned for just Eric to go, until a generous donor (thanks, Dad) offered to help the rest of us accompany him.  We left our house on Friday around 2:30pm (Jack, as we pulled out of the driveway: "Okay, Mommy!  Hold on tight!")  and arrived in Dallas at 8:30 pm (after missing our original flight and having to pay $150 to be put on another flight all together), then had to pay $100 to upgrade our rental car because all the cars we tried were too small to fit three car seats!  Maddening.  We arrived in Waco after 1am at the home of our good friends, Rishi and Amanda.  We stayed up way too late talking, then Eric and I were up the remaining four hours of the night with our kids who were taking turns waking up and FREAKING OUT.  Bad, bad night. 

We spent Saturday morning with a bunch of friends in Waco, enjoying a delicious leisurely breakfast and watching our kids run around and play together.  We haven't been back to visit since before Jack was born so it was wonderful to see everyone again!  

After lunch we drove up to Austin to spend the afternoon with Eric's dad and Connie.  The kids enjoyed frolicking in the wading pool that Papa Marc bought for them (pictures to come) and chasing/being chased by Marc and Connie's new dog, Kiska.  Eric and Rishi went to their reunion in the evening while Amanda and I hung out with Marc and Connie (and my three kids slept in one room together--awesome!).  When Eric and Rishi returned well after midnight we had a hard time saying goodbye and ended up staying up way too late once again.

Sadly, we had to get up at 6:30 am this morning in order to make the three-hour drive to Dallas for our flight that left at 12:30.  We were of course running late and dragging like molasses, so we ended up getting to the airport too late to check our bags on our flight, so they had to be checked on the next flight to Chicago.  Then, to our surprise, Jack and I were flagged at security and endured a very thorough "check."  There I was, standing in this roped-off area, holding a fussy Samantha in my arms, trying to keep my kids from running all over, while they nit-picked through our diaper bags and stroller and car seats.  Then they conducted a pat down of both our bodies--can you picture a little three-year-old standing in the security section with his arms held out to the side while a security officer searches him for weapons?  He had this look on his face like, "What the heck?"  This held us back once again from getting to our scheduled flight, and upon arrival at the gate we were told that for some reason Jack and I had been taken off the flight and listed as stand-by, but the flight was full so we would have to take a later flight!  Fortunately they were also willing to bump Eric to the same flight at no extra cost.  We were able to feed the kids and ourselves without inhaling the food, so in the end it seemed to work out for the better.

Until we arrived in Chicago.  Without our bags.  Our bags that contained our toiletries, as we cannot bring these items in our carry-on bags any longer.  Our toiletries that contain such items as contacts and toothbrushes and deodorant...

Have I mentioned that Eric starts his new job tomorrow? (I know, I know, such a tease; but this is a topic that deserves it's own post, which I'm working on!)

Overall, it was a whirlwind trip but we enjoyed almost every moment and are so glad we made the tremendous effort.  The kids were beautiful on both flights, well-behaved and cheerful and patient.  We had been talking about our "trip" for a few days, so as we left home Jack was so excited and kept "oohing" out the window at various strange things as we drove to the airport.  When we arrived at the terminal he said, "Look Daddy, trip!"  He was thrilled to get to ride on an airplane; I packed little backpacks for each kid with some new traveling toys: coloring books and crayons, stickers (a BIG hit), snacks, and a toy airplane for Jack and a little stuffed puppy for Ellie.  Jack had his little American Airlines model plane in his hand most of the weekend.  Both times we landed he kept saying, "Go back up, Mommy!"  We also had the laptop along for the first time so they enjoyed a little Diego and Elmo on the flight as well.  We were a little disappointed because we were seated in the very last row for both flights, with a perfect view of the engine out the window.  I was mainly bummed for Jack's sake, not that he even knows what he's missing.  But as crazy as travel is with little munchkins, and with the exception of the escalator topple and missing luggage, we agreed that this was one of our most successful travel experiences with kids.  What a relief.

So good to see you all this weekend...Waco folks, Papa Marc and Connie, and those of you that Eric saw at the reunion who apparently read our blog and already knew all about our family.  (Creeps me out just a little.  Okay, a lot.)  Thank you for feeding us and housing us and being such gracious, thoughtful hostesses.  We are so glad we got to see you all!

Pictures are coming, when I get another minute.  (haha...so like, November?)  I must get to bed right now...

And then there were three

Don't try this at home...

Not Mom's idea, but when Dad put the real baby in the dolly stroller and the kids posed like this, it deserved a picture (after all, I AM a photo-holic). I'm just thankful Samantha didn't fall through the ripped stroller seat!

What My Daughter Wore to Church on Sunday, Boots and All

I didn't feel like fighting her on the boots, considering that I was taking the kids to church by myself that morning, and considering that we don't have many shoe options since she tossed one of her shoes off while in the stroller recently (ala Sophia, right SK?).  All was going fine until we got into church and Samantha blew out her diaper up to her neck, and then after I got her all cleaned up and changed we entered the sanctuary (in the middle of the communion service) only to have Ellie take off running down the center aisle, clomp clomp clomping in her galoshes, with me running after her while holding Samantha.  Not my idea of the debut of my new haircut, especially considering that I'm having trouble styling it and was very self-conscious about it that morning.  Argh.  But what's motherhood without a little kid-chasing and self-humiliation?
This is what she does when she says "please."  We tried to teach her the sign language for the word please, and this is her version, this funny grabbing-her-tummy while saying "Peasss."
This is like her second time on a "big-girl" swing and she's already being dare-devil about it, in perfect Ellie fashion.



This picture makes me think of Eric's nickname for her...it started as "Punky Brewster" and somewhere along the way was shortened to "Punky."  Boy, did she love wearing Mommy's sunglasses!

And a few of our littlest Punk doing her favorite thing:

A New 'Do

Up until I sat down in the stylist's chair I didn't know if I'd go drastic or subtle (guess which one I chose?)...and I L-O-V-E it.  I have the world's thickest hair, or so says my friend that cuts my hair, so it feels great having the weight off my neck.  I was scared silly to go so short, as I haven't done this in years, but I was so ready for a change.  Goodbye I'm-too-tired-to-do-my-hair-(hey--you're lucky I got a shower today)-mommy-ponytail!  Whoo-hoo! 

And hel-LO hair products!

On a more serious note

God spoke to me twice last night in a way that was so clear, so moving, so precious, that I had to share with whoever will listen. I had to boast on His goodness and faithfulness to my hurting heart.
Some of you know that the past two years have been very difficult for us financially, mainly because we lost my income when I stopped teaching after Jack was born. That’s another story in itself, but we know without any doubt that God spoke to us at that point in our lives and that He meant for me to quit and stay home. So we have never questioned that decision as we’ve looked over our current financial position.
It’s a very long story, one that perhaps I’ll share in bits and pieces from time to time, but the general storyline has revolved around Eric searching for a career, for a job, for a passion, which as many people can relate to has been a long journey. We’ve had deep disappointments with jobs falling through that we thought God was leading us to, but we’ve also had numerous experiences of miraculous provision that have assured us that God is able to care for our needs, that He is faithful to provide our daily bread, and that we are not alone.
Recently, though, when another “perfect” job scenario fell through just days before Samantha’s birth, one that we thought would finally be our step out of financial woe (and by that I don’t mean a huge increase in salary, but rather just barely enough money to pay all of our monthly expenses without me having to work outside of my unpaid job as a mother, something we were so grateful for), I began to struggle again in my faith and falter in my trust and belief in God’s care over us.
I am embarrassed to admit that, because my head (and occasionally my heart) knows how often He has come through in times when I thought things were hopeless, times when money showed up out of nowhere, times when the numbers never added up on paper but somehow we made it through. So how could I ever go back to doubting Him?
I’ve realized that two of the major lies and doubts I have allowed to penetrate my heart and faith are these:
That God must not know our situation or how dire it is, and
That we must be insignificant to Him.
These lies also stem from watching other friends, some of them very dear to us, enjoy job promotion after promotion, other friends finding new jobs and “moving up,” other friends buying new homes, other friends buying their second homes, and so on. And I can honestly say that I generally battle the duel feelings of true rejoicing with those who rejoice as well as jealousy and self-pity that none of these things has come our way.
I struggle with these thoughts because I honestly do not desire great wealth; I have seen too often what great wealth can do to families and individuals and I would be vary of wishing that upon myself and our family. I just desire to be able to pay the bills each month without worrying and to buy groceries without having to spend so much mental effort debating what we can and can’t afford and worrying about our health as we buy “cheaper” food. I wish we could pay off our debts and live in a new way, practicing the new things we’ve learned about financial stewardship and about dependence on God for every penny that comes our way.
So sometimes I am tempted to wonder, “Does God not see my heart? Does He not see the numbers, and does He not know just how badly we need more income? Why would it not be His will for us (which I believe always has our best interest in mind whether physical or internal) to get a new job when the result of the situation is a financial sink hole? That’s not good stewardship, doesn’t He see?
Well, you know how you can think something and not realize the ridiculousness of that thought until you hash through it and sometimes, as I did last night, write it out?
Last night on my way home from Bible Study I was mulling over some of the things we discussed about God, and about our doubts, and about His promises to us. I lingered on this thought I’ve had about God not knowing, or not understanding, our situation, wondering if He knows the clock is ticking and we will have no savings left and no new income in a week or two, and the feeling of abandonment I’ve been fighting.
All of a sudden, I felt a very palpable awareness that He was talking to me as I was hit with this thought in my heart: Do I really, honestly believe, in my heart of hearts, that God does not know our situation? If I believe all the things about Him that I profess to believe, even the very basic things like His creation of the earth and humanity and His power to command the wind and the snow and the movement of the planets…if I believe what I learned when I was very young, that God sees everything and knows everything…then how on earth could I even begin to doubt whether He sees me? Of course He does.
This simple truth uplifted my heart and left me with much peace and encouragement as I continued on home. But later, as the night wore on, I still wrestled with my feelings of insignificance to Him, with feeling like the left out child who somehow was missing out, or had been looked over. As I laid in bed, unable to sleep, I found myself crying out to Him, admitting these selfish, self-pitying feelings. I poured out my heart to Him, told Him how distant and alone I felt in this situation, told Him my fears and my frustrations, my disappointments, and reminded Him of our needs, recognizing that He already knew them inside and out.
Then I asked Him something that I have asked for repeatedly in the past few years, which I felt a bit foolish for having to ask of Him yet again, but a question that He has never failed to answer me tenderly: I asked Him to give me some tangible, real understanding and confidence that He has not abandoned us, that He is with us, and that He is walking through this scary time with us.
Almost immediately after praying this, Samantha began to stir and I was distracted from my prayer as I turned my attention to her awful coughing and choking sounds. The poor thing has her first cold and has been having a horrible time with it, refusing to eat and struggling to breathe through her nose. She sucks her thumb while she sleeps so when she has trouble breathing through her nose, she can’t suck her thumb as she has to breathe through her mouth, and this disrupts her sleep in a major way.
All of the kids are sick actually, with bad colds. We are a bundle of germs and snot these days. Both Jack and Ellie fussed periodically last night as well, calling out for us, and crying about ouchies; I don’t worry about them in quite the same way I worry about Samantha, because I know they are able to turn over if they can’t breathe, or to call us if they needs us. But laying there listening to her cough and have such difficulty breathing I began to worry about her welfare, and fear that I might fall into too deep a sleep to hear her if she needed me, that she might choke and not be able to breathe. My mother heart cried out for her, in her tiny, dependent state, and I jumped from my bed, scooped her up out of the crib, and determined that I would sleep the whole night on the couch with her on my chest if it meant she would be close to me, that she would be near enough to me that my very body would breathe in rhythm with hers, making sure she didn’t falter, knowing that I was right there if she needed me.
As I was walking down the dark hallway, I suddenly stopped, and if you could have seen my face I’m sure it would have displayed a look of surprise and revelation; I stood there rooted and just began to cry. Still just moments after crying out to God for a sampling of His nearness to me, I was struck, or perhaps gifted, with a beautiful picture of His care. He spoke to me that rather than the “left-out” child, the one who was forgotten or left behind, as my selfish heart had feared, we were instead much like this sweet infant; we are in a precarious situation, one that is risky and scary and that requires us to be dependent on God for every morsel and penny of our survival. He allowed me to see that these precious friends of ours have not just been lucky, or that He has decided to bless them instead of us, but that they are our sisters and brothers and that perhaps they are like Jack and Ellie, also hurting and sick in many ways from the winds of this sinful, earthly life, but that they perhaps were not in a position of such utter dependence, that He had allowed them to grow a bit so that they could stand strong their own two feet with the resources He had provided and the spiritual lessons He had ministered to and taught them.
Then tenderly He spoke to me that we were not far from Him or forgotten as I had feared, but rather, that He was clinging us to His chest much as I stood there clinging my baby daughter to my heart, that He was breathing with us each breath we struggled for, that in our needy infant-like state He knows we need Him so near and available that He is on hand and on the look-out for dangers and ready to protect and fight for our well-being, and that in His nearness He is able to assess and address our needs swiftly, and finally, that He will never fall asleep on us, that He will not rest or close an eye or fail us by somehow missing our choking cries for help. As much as I was determined to stay near to Samantha even if it meant sacrificing much-needed sleep for myself, out of my love for her and concern for her well-being, how much more deeply was He determined to stay near to us, to scoop us up and hold us close to Him out of His vast love for us?
What salve for my aching heart. What peace for my fearing soul. What a tender answer to such a pitiful plea. What a wonderful God He is.
“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!”
Isaiah 49:14-16
(This next scripture came from my daily prayer group; thank you, Julie, for this as it just served to confirm what the Lord spoke to me last night!)
“Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.” Psalm 62:5-8

The First (and Last) Time I Took a Toddler and an Infant to the Grocery Store By Myself

So I am a bad mom: I take my newborns out in public WAY before the recommended time.  I mean seriously, am I really supposed to not leave my house for six whole weeks?  I guess I could leave the kids with my nanny, let my housekeeper clean and do the laundry, and that way I'd be able to drive my Mercedes to the grocery store in childless peace.  Come on, people, why do you think we bought the minivan??

So one weekend when Samantha was about 3 weeks old, we were borderline desperate for groceries.  I knew I would end up in cardiac arrest if I took all three kids along, so I called my parents and begged them to come watch Jack and Ellie for an hour while I took Samantha with me to the store.  As I was about to leave, Jack completely melted down and wanted to come with me.  I figured, hey--he's three, he can walk, he likes the grocery store, he likes to help mommy, it'd only be TWO kids--no problem!  So into the car the three of us piled, leaving a very happy Ellie with two doting grandparents.

So things were going fairly well at the store; Samantha's car seat took up almost the entire cart basket, of course, and the massive diaper bag (but my oh-so-favorite one) took up the entire seat, so Jack and I had to tuck the groceries around Samantha's seat while she slept.  After a few aisles I looked down and noticed a few items in my cart that I had not put there.  Ahem.  But, no biggie--I was able to put them back and we were on our merry way.

But then Samantha started crying.  And not just crying, screaming bloody murder.  It took me about five minutes to get her untangled from the car seat straps, as newborns tend to pull all limbs to their body when they are screaming their heads off.  I finally got her out, and she settled down as I held her and tried to push the cart AND corral my wandering toddler.  What a sight that must have been.

Unfortunately one of the items on my list was "Father's Day cards," and not just for my dad or for Eric, but for my father-in-law as well (sorry Marc, we still haven't sent it!!).  It was NOT smart to even attempt this with a curious three-year-old, but I did anyway; stood there reading cards and trying to find the appropriate messages for the appropriate audiences...card for Eric from me, card for Eric from kids.  Card for Papa from kids, card for Dad from me.  Card for Eric's dad from Eric...and so on.  While I was frantically doing my perusing, Jack was pulling cards off the shelf, oohing and ahhing over this and that..."Oooh, Mommy, flowers/doggies/cake/ELMO!!" 

Not wanting to end up spending $80 for ripped or damaged greeting cards I finally decided to give up since I was spending more time putting Jack's cards BACK then I was looking for the ones I needed.  As I began replacing cards, I heard Jack say, "Uh-oh!" and turned around to find him pointing at the ceiling...he had pulled a couple balloons from the balloon case and let them go, sending them to certain slow death at the top of the warehouse-like ceiling.  Okay.  Time to leave the card aisle.  I was beginning to sweat and there was a spot in the middle of my back that was beginning to tingle from holding Samantha in one arm for so long...

We finished the rest of our shopping fairly uneventfully.  Jack only ran off once, he obeyed very well, and was even helpful (as much as a toddler can be).

But then came the check-out aisle.  Full of candy right at little people's height.  My Curious George began rearranging candy and trying to stick them in his pockets.  At this point I was still holding Samantha, trying to bend and retrieve all the items from the cart that were packed around her car seat, trying to keep the WIC items separated out, trying to keep my son from stealing candy, and beginning to sweat even more. 

Then came the "Uh-oh" and looking down I noticed Jack had opened one of those Bubble Tape containers, and as if in slow-mo I watched him take out the roll of gum and roll the entire thing out onto the floor with a big "Oooooooo!" 

"Jack!" I said.  "Now Mommy will have to pay for that because you opened it!  Please put it on the counter and keep your hands off the candy."  With his chubby little fingers he ran ahead and gathered up the string of gum, wadded it up into a big ball, and stuffed it back into the container.  Good Lord.

The other major headache about this grocery store is that it's a bag-your-own type place.  Which Jack loves.  And I hate.  So as I'm standing at the check-out trying to work out some problem with our WIC coupons, Jack was thrilled to pieces to be bagging groceries all by himself.   Not mention he got to push the button that makes the conveyor belt run, and consequently piled up all the groceries at the end.  I was starting to have a major headache and the throbbing in my back was almost all I could think about.  We finally figured out the problem with the coupons and I paid for our stuff and raced down to the end to stop Jack from loading the cans of corn and green beans on top of the bread and grapes. 

I have come to believe bagging groceries is an art.  Perhaps I'm just a little too Monica Gellar about it, but I am one of those people who sorts their groceries and puts them on the conveyor belt in a very specific, organized way:  all of the fresh foods together, frozen foods, dairy products, meats, boxed items, baby items, toiletries, and so on.  That way, they can be bagged together, so when I get home I'm not emptying bags that contain apples, tampons, baby wipes, and sandwich meat.  So after having to bag my own groceries for awhile now I have come to appreciate those who do it for a living and do it so well.

I know.  I'm crazy.  And if I had lower standards I'm sure the stress of Jack "helping" me bag wouldn't be so, well, stressful.  I think it's that he bags so fast.  And he puts two items in a bag and then opens up the next bag.  And he throws jars of baby food at the bottoms of bags and breaks them.  DEEP SIGH.  This is one of the most highly stressful parts of our grocery trips when Eric is with me.  So you can just imagine having to do it by myself.  (Sidenote: while bagging the groceries I discovered about four items that I apparently had paid for that I had not put in the cart myself, among them some Gerber snacks and some odd-flavored tuna pack.  Apparently I was so absent-minded while unloading the cart that I didn't notice until after I had paid for them...)

As I drove home from the store, my back aching and my eyes about to brim over with tears, I swore I would never do this again by myself.  No way, no how.  Too, too much.

I got home, unloaded groceries, and began recounting the experience to my parents.  I got towards the end of my story and as I shared with them the Bubble Tape disaster, I began searching through the bags looking for the gum so I could toss it out.  As I pulled it out, I stopped short and stared in horror.

In my hand was a brand-new, UNOPENED container of hot pink Bubble Tape.  But...wait...what?  How...noooo.  Jackson Thomas!!

And then I just started laughing uncontrollably.

Epilogue:

I have since taken all three kids to the store by myself and survived.  I know.  I should make a t-shirt.

Updates, Updates, Updates

So life with three is very, very hard.  I keep telling people that I don't think it's necessarily that I have three kids that makes it hard, it's that I have three kids under the age of three.  It's hard because they are all so little that they are all needy, and I can't meet all their needs at the same time.  In the early weeks I found myself approaching my days with the constant pessimistic thought, "Which kid will I let down today?" because that seemed to be what always happened.  Samantha was priority, with feeding her every two hours and rocking her when she cried, which meant my arms and hands were tied up much of the day, which in turn meant that any time she was asleep apart from my body I was usually holding or tending to one of the other children. 

Ellie is younger and has seemingly more immediate needs, and she also demands more attention from me than Jack does.  She thrives on social interaction and doesn't play real well by herself (unless she's into something she shouldn't be, why is that?).  Jack, on the other hand, will sit for long periods of time by himself, content to play with his trains or color or look at books or run around his diaper-bases in his own fantasy baseball world.  (Not to be confused with Daddy's Fantasy Baseball world.)  So I often found myself at the end of the day realizing I hadn't spent any focused time with Jack, and I battled a lot of guilt over this. 

If I tried hard to focus on each of the kids during the day, I never got ANY housework done.  If I tried too hard to keep up with the dishes and messes and laundry and such, I ended up neglecting at least one of the kids, and my body was also struggling to heal so I had to let go of the housework much of the time, which is fine in principle but in reality it makes an already sleep-deprived and weepy mom more irritated and testy when she's tripping over toys all day and there are no clothes to wear that don't bear a spit-up smell and there are ants all over the kitchen feasting on the crumbs that haven't been cleaned up and the dishes are piling up and there is no counter space left to prepare a meal...and so on.

BUT.  We are at the eight-week mark.  I was feeling pretty good around six weeks, and now the word I would use to describe our life is: stabilizing.  The infancy-induced fog is lifting, routines are forming well; Samantha is on a 3 to  31/2 hour schedule now and is sleeping 10pm-5am, and I'm going to try stretching her to 7am now that she's eight weeks old.  She is finally going down well for naps, with minimal fussing.  I think she's even found her thumb, which definitely aids in her learning to go to sleep on her own.  She's a very happy baby and we always know she is hungry/poopy/tired if she fusses because if she's not one of those three, she is cooing and smiling and sucking on her fingers...what a little gift! 

This sense of routine also helps the other kids, as there is more time with Mommy while Samantha is sleeping.  We've been going for a lot of walks with Daddy after dinner, which we all enjoy, and gives Eric and I time to talk without being interrupted by the kiddos. 

Ellie is in a very defiant stage so we are working through discipline decisions right now.  Trying to be consistent between the two of us, and trying to reevaluate as needed WHY we are making certain choices to be sure they are age-appropriate and suited to her current disobedience.  She is a spunky little thing who loves her sister to pieces and idolizes her brother.  She copies him all the time.  I swear they will soon be holding intelligible conversations because she is so far ahead--I think she'll catch up to Jack soon!  She's already using two word sentences, and has a huge vocabulary.  Some of my favorite words of hers are: duck (any animal is a "duck"), tee-too (thank you), peet (feet), hoh-choo ("hold you", meaning, "hold me!"), Beebee Da (Samantha), Mi Mi (Sammy), pah-ee (potty), preh-ee (pretty), mun-tee (monkey), Heh-dohhhh (hello--only used when talking on her play phone).  Tonight she about melted my heart when she came up to me whimpering and pointing to her foot, saying, "Mommy, ouchie peet!" in the sweetest little voice.  I felt so bad because she did have a big ouchie, but it was the cutest phrase and I kept trying to get her to say it again.  She gives the best hugs; there's something about tiny chubby arms wrapped tightly around your neck that will make your day, no matter how bad the day has been.  Especially when the fingers are covered in marker and smell like graham crackers.

Jack is his sweet self and has generally been doing well; he loves Samantha and is always remarking "So coot!" and loving on her.  Today when she woke up from her nap he went running in, climbed up on the side of her crib, and with a vibrant, "Heh-wow, Santha!" he began inviting her to come play with him, telling her all about his farm animals.  Warms my heart like you wouldn't believe.  We've had a few rough patches with him the past eight weeks as well.  He's had some regression with the potty training, which had us real stumped for awhile.  He started having more and more accidents and seemed to be almost choosing NOT to use the potty.  I've talked to a number of moms and most of them have told me this is a normal phase and just to be patient with him and wait it out.  So that's what we're doing.  He's also been having these horrible night terrors, where he wakes up very suddenly and is screaming and thrashing about and nothing we do or offer calms him down.  It's terrifying for us to watch; it's as if he's having an F-5 tantrum but for no particular reason, as he just emerged from sleep.  They last a long time--sometimes as long as an hour--where the entire time he's screaming, "No! No! Nooo!" and crying and stiffening every inch of his body and rolling around thrashing and kicking on the floor.  I can't take it after awhile and end up wrapping him in my arms while he continues on, but we think this actually ends up helping him calm down in the long run, being held.  Then as suddenly as it began it's over; he stops crying and asks for his ice water and blankie, then says, "All done" and "Bed."  It's bizarre; one time he even stopped screaming and said, "Mommy, hold you, hold you!" even though I'd been holding him for the past half hour.  It's exhausting when you add this in with the nighttime feedings...  But they seem to be less frequent now, maybe 2-3 times a week.  Again, I hear this happens to other kids and that it will "phase out" eventually.  I hope so because it is so awful to watch, you feel so helpless.

Life for me seems to be 1, maybe 2, steps forward, 3 or 4 steps back.  I feel like even with our budding routine I can't stay on top of anything.  I have an enormous list of people I owe thank you notes to, which I feel horrible about.  Laundry rarely sees the inside of a drawers, we're always picking out of baskets, and we're lucky if it's folded.  I can't keep up with email or blogging because the computer is in our bedroom/Samantha's room, so when she's asleep--i.e. my only possible "free time"--I can't do much on here without waking her.  And lame as it is, I am so exhausted that I am having trouble keeping up around the house, so whenever I make a little bit of progress it's hard to stay ahead, as my house never stays clean very long thanks to the little tykes we have roaming around.  (The other day I was making dinner and turned around to find the entirety of my tiny kitchen floor covered in cooking utensils and Ziploc bags.  Talk about a safety hazard, dodging meat tenderizers and pizza cutters while trying not to slip on the plastic baggies...while carrying a pan of hot noodles to the sink...)

While this is a frustrating way to live, I keep trying to tell myself again and again, many times a day even, "This is a phase.  This is a phase.  This is phase..." and then to just let it go, whatever the "it" might be that is causing me so much guilt and/or frustration.  A deep breath has become my friend and ally, the air-conditioner my sanity-saver.  The other thing I look forward to is my Women's Bible Study on Wednesday nights; I treat myself to a Starbuck's coffee on the way and take advantage of every second of time to be without kids and to hold intelligent, encouraging conversation with friends.  It definitely helps rejuvenate me...

I'm hoping to have time this week to post some anecdotes from the past two months, stories that have to be told due to the truly comedic content--a laugh at this tired Mom's expense, if you will.  Snapshots of life with three and the craziness that enfolds on a daily basis; for those of you who are almost there (Amanda, Anne)...well, I don't know whether to warn you or to encourage you to laugh while it's not YOU.  In any case, I'll try to only post one short story at a time as I know my tendency is to go on and on, as evidenced by this post.  One of these days I also hope to post some deeper thoughts, as I have had a few of those lately, too, that have been on my heart to share. 

It's late now.  We need to get to bed in order to get up early enough that we actually make it to church in time for the service, for once.  It's our new pastor's first Sunday, and I'm so excited!  (Eric's singing, too, which means we need to get there early, which is no small feat for our family!)  Thanks for reading and checking in with our family.  Goodnight!

Samantha Claire at 2 months

  

 

Playtime with Jack & Ellie

Her "No, Jack, gimme that back" face

Yes, he dressed himself this particular day...pajama shirt and all.

This is Jack after sliding into his base, aka Daddy's glove.  (When he plays indoors he lays diapers around on the floor as his bases.)

These pictures were tricky to edit and I'm not terribly pleased with how they turned out; it was a very sunny day and there were lots of bright, bright areas next to dark shadows...made for a good learning experience, in any case!

A friend loaned us this stroller for the summer...picture me pushing it while carrying Samantha in the Baby Bjorn!

This has become a favorite "toy" that is often fought over.  The kids call it "shake shake."  Everything was going fine until...

This happened.

Then THIS happened.

And then this happened.  Yeah.  Very annoying clean-up for Mom.

Another interesting choice of activity, unbeknownst to me until after the fact.  

I know this picture just screams "Mother of the Year": clean house, fresh flowers on the windowsill, baby asleep in swing, kids dressed and playing calmly.  HA.  Just had to get this moment on film as it is one of the fleeting ones of my day!

My lame artistic skills at work.  Jack is always asking me to draw balls for him--I've finally gotten the soccer ball down--it's not easy, folks!

Ellie stealing Jack's crayons after being told not to...

Ellie getting caught...

Ellie trying to hide from Mommy.

This is her "Yeah?  What are you gonna do about it?" face.  We see it a lot these days...I'm glad I got it down on record.  (Not that I'll ever forget it, as it seems to be seared in my mind already!)  She is in that testing phase where she pushes every limit set for her with a sly smile (see above) as if just daring me to discipline her.  She thinks most things are games between me and her, so that's something we're working through right now.  She's showing a stubborn streak that scares me a bit, thinking ahead to her adolescent years, but I pray for her daily that she would choose Christ and put her stubborn heart to good use--or rather, open her heart to allow Him to use her stubbornness for His good purposes!