So Very Lovely

Isn't she lovely?

Isn't she wonderful?

Isn't she precious?

More than a minute old ;)

Isn't she lovely, made from love?

Isn't she pretty?

Truly the angel's best

Boy, I'm so happy,

We have been heaven blessed.

I can't believe what God has done

Through us He's given life to one

But isn't she lovely, made from love?

 (excerpted, of course, from "Isn't She Lovely? by Stevie Wonder)

Three Generations

This morning, my Bible reading included the story of Hezekiah, Manasseh and Amon, three generations of kings of Judah. Despite having an ungodly father, Hezekiah became one of the godly kings of Judah. Hezekiah did what was right in the eyes of God, except for when he showed the Babylonian envoys the treasures of his kingdom. His pride over his wealth led to Judah's eventual invasion by Babylon.
As punishment for his pride, Hezekiah was told that Babylon would invade and destroy Judah, including his own descendants. I consider his recorded response as telling to his character: " 'The word of the LORD you have spoken is good,' Hezekiah replied. For he thought, 'Will there not be peace and security in my lifetime?' ”(2 Kings 20:19, emphasis added). Hezekiah was more concerned with the present and his own comfort than his children's future.
Granted, Hezekiah was being told something that God was going to do. Having seen God in action many times in his lifetime, Hezekiah had every right to accept what he heard as true. But Hezekiah also knew that God heard and answered prayer. 2 Kings 20 gives the account of when Hezekiah was told that he was going to die from an illness. Instead of accepting what he was told, Hezekiah cried out to God for mercy, and was subsequently healed. The Bible makes no mention of Hezekiah crying out for mercy when it concerned his children's future.
When Hezekiah dies, his son Manasseh succeeds him as king. The Bible states that Manasseh rebuilt the idols and altars to false gods that his father had destroyed (1 Kings 21; 2 Chronicles 33). In other words, Manasseh came after his father and undid his father's work. I would venture that it is safe to assume that a father who places his current security over his children's future does not seek after his children. Manasseh probably knew that Hezekiah valued his own comfort over his son's.
There is some redemption concerning Manasseh, though. Thanks to his own father's pride, Manasseh was carried off to Babylon. According to 2 Chronicles 33:11, the Babylonians came, put a hook through Manasseh's nose, shackled him, and took him to Babylon. The Bible doesn't say if Manasseh had to walk the 500+ mile trip, but I cannot see a conquering army letting a prisoner of such distinction ride. At any rate, it was a profoundly humbling trip. Once in Babylon, Manasseh cried out to God with true repentance. God heard his cries and allowed Manasseh to return to Jerusalem.
Once returned to his home, Manasseh was a changed man. He rebuilt what had been destroyed, threw out the idols, and led the people in only sacrificing to God. Sounds like a new man, right? In many ways, yes. However, Manasseh repeated the failed pattern set for him by his father.
After Manasseh died, his son Amon became king. The Bible tells that Amon "worshiped and offered sacrifices to all the idols Manasseh had made" (2 Chronicles 33:22). Apparently, Manasseh did not completely rid the country of idols since Amon was able to worship idols his father had made. For all of the changes Manasseh made after his return from Babylon, Manasseh left some things undone.
Time and time again, the books of Kings and Chronicles detail how the sons capitalize and embellish upon the sins of their fathers. Amon must have been a very hard-headed young man to not learn from what happened to his father. Amon's wickedness led to a brief reign of only 2 years. After Amon was assassinated, his son Josiah became king.
Parenting in the moment is not enough. A parent is not raising a child; a parent is raising a future adult. A parent needs to remove and destroy the idols in his own life, or run the risk that his children will find the idol and build upon it. Most importantly, however, a parent should intercede for his children. The Bible gives too many examples of God answering prayer for the importance of prayer to be disregarded.

Jack Be Nimble

BB has recently learned he can leap over things. This could get interesting...

happily submitted to Home With The Boys

BB's Birth Story: Part 7

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

BB was born 11:30 PM, July 10th.
When he emerged blue and limp, the cord was immediately cut and he was whisked away to the warming table. I was confused why they didn't let DH cut the cord and I wondered why they were taking my baby away. Everything felt like I was watching it happen, like I wasn't really there. BB had an initial Apgar score of 1, and the medical staff moved him to the NICU. I sat there staring at the door the medical personnel had just whisked my baby out of and I had the thought that I was now going to die. Not completely because of BB's condition, but because after all that transpired, I felt like I was going to die.
The doctor reached inside me and pulled out my placenta, which freaked me out so much that I snapped back to reality. I had no idea that anyone ever did such a thing. To this day, I don't know why he did that. I would have preferred to deliver it naturally. The doctor started sewing me up. I had a level 3 tear, so I required a number of stitches.
The hospital staff that had been working on BB returned with him, pink and crying. With his Apgar up to 8, BB was placed on the scale to weigh. The doctor told us that BB was a "Sumo Baby" and he asked how big we thought he was. I knew that the doctor had told me I would have trouble with anything over 8 pounds, so I guessed his weight to be 8 pounds, 8 ounces. DH guessed 9 pounds. When they turned the scale on, BB weighed 10 lbs, 5.2 ounces, and measured 22 1/2" long. Once I knew how big he was, I felt better about the trouble I had pushing him out.
After BB was weighed and measured, he was handed to DH. BB didn't have a big cry, but rather a small mewing cry that was constant. Given his rough entrance, you can't really blame him. DH held him next to me, and when I spoke to him, he stopped crying and looked at me. I tried to nurse for a few minutes, but BB wasn't interested. So I handed him back to DH and he and the other family members took turns holding him and taking pictures of him.

The End

BB's Birth Story: Part 6

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

So, I pushed. I pushed and I pushed and I pushed. But nothing happened. BB wasn't even crowning. At one point during the pushing, a scrub nurse came in my room and watched me push. "She's never going to make any progress pushing like that," she said to my nurse.
Oh - and did I tell you the VERY BEST part? That evening, while I was pushing, my nurse was none other than our dear old friend, Nurse Ratched. When she came in my room to introduce herself at the beginning of her shift, my heart sank. I wondered if I could request a different nurse. But I figured that since I was in labor, she HAD to be involved with me tonight. And she was, just not in a very helpful manner.
When I was told that I could go ahead and push, she told me to count out loud to 5, take a deep breath, and bear down. So I did. Over and over. And that might be how it's done, I don't know. But I do know that it's hard figuring out how exactly to bear down when you've never had to bear down before. Looking back, I wonder if things would have progressed quicker if I had had a better idea of what to do.
After the scrub nurse's assessment, Ratched handed me a rolled up towel and held onto the middle of it, giving me the ends to hold onto. I guess the point was to change my position a bit, but it was never explained. She had me push 2 times like that and then she threw the towel into the hamper. I guess the towel wasn't working too well for her.
By 9:3o, I had been pushing for 2 hours. My O2 stats were low, so I was given an oxygen mask to wear, which I found cumbersome. The doctor wasn't in my room the whole time, but he did come to check on me every so often. [I should explain at this point that there are 5 doctors in the practice that I used. During my failed induction and subsequent labor, all 5 of the doctors were involved at one point or another]
With a 5 doctor practice, there are a lot of patients. As it turned out, several patients from the practice were in labor at the same time as me. One of the other patients from the practice was better at pushing than I was, so with a last check at me, he instructed me to stop pushing while he went to be at the delivery of the other patient.
Now - if you have ever been in labor, you know that once the urge to push kicks in, it pretty much takes over your whole mind. That's ALL you want to do. True, I had been pushing for 2 hours and I hadn't been doing a very good job at it, but I still wanted to push. When the next urge to push came, and the nurse had me breathe through the urge without doing anything, I got mad. I've never been so mad in my life. If I could have beaten my doctor and nurse, I would have. The delivery with the other patient went quickly, and it looked as though I would be able to push again soon. However, just as the doctor was wrapping up his part of the job, another patient from the practice went into fetal distress, requiring an emergency C-section. A message was delivered to Ratched that I still wasn't to push, and that another doctor from the practice had been called in. It was about this time that my epidural ran out. The anesthesiologist would have to give me another dose - except for the fact that he was in with the C-section. So I waited. And got madder. And I started to yell. Not really from the pain, but because I was so mad, frustrated, hungry, and tired.
At 10:30, the other doctor from the practice arrived. She wasn't really there to help with the delivery unless it was absolutely needed. She was there more or less to watch, so she took a position over by the wall away from the bed. She told me that I could start pushing again, so I did. BB's head finally started to crown, and I was encouraged that the end was in site. Once I started being able to push again, I stopped yelling (at least, I think I did - no one really remembers). I kept trying and trying to get BB's head to clear, but he wasn't budging. I don't know if other staff members had gotten curious, or if Ratched had sent a message, but other medical personnel were starting to gather in the room. Around this time, the doctor on call came into my room, and the other doctor left.
Once the doctor that was on call arrived in the room, BB's head finally crowned. But then he stopped. And I noticed that things were starting to get dark. And everyone sprang into action. The scrub nurse who had critiqued my pushing progress climbed on top of me and pushed down on my abdomen at the same time that the doctor reached in and broke BB's right clavicle. The combined actions got BB out, and he was blue and limp...
Part 7

BB's Birth Story: Part 5

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Despite my intentions to have a drug-free birth, the past week had wiped me out. I was so tired, and when the nurse asked me if I wanted a shot of Demerol, I said yes. The injection helped me sleep for 3 blessed hours. When I woke up, DH, my parents, my grandmother, DH's parents and his younger siblings were all there in the room. There's something surreal about lying in a bed with 8 people staring at you. I thought it seemed a bit like a death scene in a movie.

With the Demerol worn off, I was back to feeling contractions. The nurse checked my progress and declared me at a 3-4. I had only dilated 3 during the past 5 or so hours. Once again, they had me on my back, although this time my bed was elevated at the head a bit. I remember wishing that I could get up and walk around, because I felt that it would help speed things up. But given that I was now 10 days past my due date, the doctor wanted continuous fetal monitoring.

After she checked me, the nurse spoke to the doctor. The doctor wanted to give me Pitocin again, since I was clearly in labor. I was agreeable to the Pitocin, because at that point, I just wanted BB to be born. The nurse cautioned me that with the Pitocin, my contractions would be a lot stronger. She advised me to consider getting an epidural. I wasn't too keen on the idea, but the thought of a quick and pain-free delivery was looking mighty good by then. I talked it over with DH and my mom, and then agreed to an epidural.

The thought of a giant needle in my spine freaked me out, but I reassured myself by thinking about just how many people get epidurals every day. When I saw that the head nurse anesthesiologist was going to be administering my epidural, I was somewhat relieved. The actual delivery of the epidural wasn't too bad, although it was hard to stay still when I was having a contraction.

After I got the epidural and the Pitocin was started, labor stopped. So the Pitocin was increased, which picked things back up. The doctor stopped by mid-afternoon and told me that with my current rate of progression, I would probably start pushing around 8:00 that night. At 7:30, I was checked again, and I was ready to push!

Part 6

BB's Birth Story: Part 4

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
By the time all of the discharge paperwork was filled out, nearly every restaurant was closed. We went through the drive-through at Wendy's, and I ate my hamburger in the car. I tried to eat some fries once we got home, but I was too tired. I fell asleep around midnight.
Sunday, July 9, had me jolting awake around 6:00 AM with the worst back pain I'd ever had. I tried walking around the house and stretching, but nothing helped. I finally climbed into the shower and put the water on as hot as I could stand. That felt better for a while, but I knew I couldn't stay in there. I tried every trick in my pregnancy book to either get the pains to progress or go away, but they didn't budge. I walked, laid down, used a heating pad, changed positions, but the pains never changed. According to my book, I was experiencing false labor. But at 9 days overdue, I wanted it to be real. I kept track of the contractions throughout the day. I called the doctor's office and the hospital, and they both said that the contractions needed to be 5 minutes apart for 1 hour before I should go to the hospital. They stressed that I shouldn't eat or drink in case I suddenly went into a fast labor. I obeyed them for the most part, but I did eat a plate of spaghetti because it was the only thing that had sounded good to me during my hospital stay. Sunday came and went with my contractions never reaching the magic ratio. Instead, they came and went sporadically everywhere from 7-20 minutes.
Around 4:00 AM Monday, July 10th, I was going on less that one night's sleep over the past 5 nights. Aside from a burger and spaghetti, my last meal was lunch on Wednesday. I was tired, hungry, and grumpy. I woke DH up and told him that we were going to the hospital. By then, I didn't care what the books and the people on the phone had said; I wanted to be told face-to-face if I was indeed in false labor. DH was certain that we would be sent back home. He wisely decided to listen to the sleep-deprived pregnant woman though, and off we went to the hospital.
When we arrived at the hospital, the woman at the desk didn't seem the least bit concerned about my plight. She carried on several phone conversations before she told us that we could go back. A nurse's aide showed us to a small room and told us to wait for a nurse. We had waited so long in the waiting room that we were now at the change of shifts, which meant that we would wait quite some time to see a nurse.
Once a nurse did check me, she said that I was almost at a 1. I was so distraught that I wanted to cry. A part of me was sure that I would be checked and everyone would be surprised at how much I had progressed. Being nearly a 1 meant that I still had a long ways to go. Since I was supposed to be admitted for an induction in a few hours anyway, the doctor told the nurse to go ahead and admit me. DH and I called our parents, and I knew that this time, I would leave the hospital with a baby.
Part 5

BB's Birth Story: Part 3

Part 1
Part 2
I have always been a restless sleeper. I think that having to lie still for the monitor, coupled with the medication being administered every so often gave me my second sleepless night. During the day, my parents and my in-laws had stopped by to visit, no doubt hoping to catch some baby action. Come evening, it was DH again on the cot, sleeping for the next day of work. I remember feeling particularly annoyed that second night over his ability to sleep anywhere.
The next morning, July 8th, the third medication was administered after I signed a legal waiver stating I wouldn't hold the hospital responsible if the medication caused me to suddenly bleed out. I was a bit nervous about how exactly this medication was going to be administered, given the warnings. I was pleased to see that it was a pill - that I could swallow with water! Even though I had been given several cups of ice chips to suck on during my stay, I remained pretty thirsty. On the plus side though, I had stopped throwing up. I did dry heave, but that was much better than barfing.
After 2 doses of the third medication, I was still not effaced or dilated. The doctor told me that she could give me another dose of the medication, or do a C-section. She didn't pressure me for a C-section, but she did say that the current time, mid-afternoon, would be a good time for the procedure. She was concerned that if I had the third dose and there was still no change, it would be evening and then she would be busy with the other mamas giving birth. Why exactly do babies wait until night to be born?
I was adamantly against a C-section, and I opted for a third dose. By now I was s-t-a-r-v-i-n-g, and SO sleepy. I remember thinking that perhaps a C-section wouldn't be so bad, because I wasn't too sure how well I was going to be able to push. All I wanted to do was eat and sleep. By 9:00 that night, there was still no change. The hospital was packed with laboring mamas actually in labor, and there was a need for my room. After checking once again to make sure I didn't want a C-section, the doctor discharged me from the hospital. I was told to see the doctor at the practice first thing Monday morning and then come back to the hospital to be admitted for another attempt at induction.
Part 4

BB's Birth Story: Part 2

Part 1
At 8:00 PM July 6th, I reported as ordered to the hospital. After waiting over an hour for a room in a full capacity labor ward, I was admitted. An IV of fluids was started because I wasn't allowed to eat or drink while I was being induced. I wasn't too pleased with that, because I had already stopped eating and drinking a few hours before being admitted, per the doctor's orders. I had thrown up a few times since then, and I was really feeling thirsty. I hoped that the Pitocin, once started, would work quickly and I could eat and drink whatever I wanted without feeling sick. After the IV was started, the fetal monitor was strapped to me and I was told to lie in bed and not move, lest the monitor come off. This was exactly how I hadn't wanted to give birth.
The nurse who was first assigned to me was nice, albeit busy. The room across from me and next to me were both giving birth, and as I heard them scream, I told myself that I wasn't going to utter a sound when I finally gave birth.
At 11:00, the shifts changed and Nurse Ratched came in my room. She began the Pitocin via my IV and I was told to lie on my back and not move. This bit of advice confused me, because I had been told to not sleep on my back when pregnant. But then again, what did I know? She explained that she was going to be very busy that night, and that I shouldn't expect to see her much if at all. After a couple of hours, my back was hurting. I thought about buzzing the nurse's desk to ask them about me lying on my back, but Ratched had scared me off from wanting to impose on the staff.

I'm going to stop here and explain a bit: my parents had dropped me off at the hospital. At the time, DH was working 3:00-11:00 each day. He had just begun his job in May, so he didn't have any time accrued to take off. Since my induction was supposed to take a while, there was no perceived hurry for him to be there when I was admitted. I don't want any of you thinking that DH wasn't involved in BB's birth process!

DH finally arrived at the hospital and settled down for the night on a cot. My back was really starting to hurt, and I hoped that the pain meant that something was happening. Near the change of shift, the doctor appeared and checked me. I still hadn't started to efface or dilate. She upped my dose and told me that if there was still no change in a few hours, she would try me on a different type of medication. I took the opportunity to ask if I could please lay on my side, and she laughed, saying of course. Apparently, my night on my back was unnecessary. But at least I got to experience one of the sleepless hospital nights that everyone talks about. And my hospital room did have cable, which we didn't have at home.
The next few hours came and went, and the next medication was started in addition to the Pitocin. I remember that this medication hurt really badly, because it wasn't administered via an IV, and my doctor had fat hands with short fingers. Now that I'm thinking about that, I wonder why a doctor with hands like that chose that specialty. Wouldn't a different field be more appropriate? The new medication had to be administered every few hours, which gave me a way to pass the time by dreading the next application. At the end of day 2, I was still not effaced or dilated. I was told that if nothing changed during the night, there was a third medication to try. The third medication was viewed by the doctor as a last resort, especially since I had already had so much Pitocin. She was concerned that the third medication, which tended to cause fast births, would cause an even faster one due to the Pitocin I had received. She took me off of the Pitocin and told me that the second medication would still be applied every few hours during the night.
Part 3

BB's Birth Story: Part 1

My pregnancy with BB began as they usually do ;) Foods that I liked suddenly smelled terrible, and I felt "off." When I learned I was pregnant with BB, I immediately started praying that God would let me stay pregnant with him. In retrospect, perhaps I prayed too much about that.
Other than some serious 9-month-long morning sickness, my pregnancy with BB was largely uneventful. I tried to console myself by telling myself that morning sickness meant that my body was making the hormones it should. Looking back through my pregnancy journal, I see that I wrote how concerned I was that my baby would be born small because I kept throwing up. The only things I could always keep down were Subway Cold Cut Trios and Rice Krispie Treats. Everything else, even oatmeal and crackers weren't safe from my morning sickness.
My pregnancy seemed to fly by - and take forever. Even though my due date was June 30th, I had the nursery ready by mid-May. Despite everyone telling me that first babies are late babies, I just knew that I had to have the nursery ready by 36 weeks.
By the beginning of June, BB was head down and in position to launch. At my 37 week appointment, the doctor estimated that BB might weigh 8 pounds at birth, and that she would be surprised if I could have anything larger than an 8 pound baby without a C-section.
38, 39, 40...
My June 30th due date came and went. I was really surprised and disappointed by that, because I was sure that I was really due earlier than June 30th. But then, what did I know? The doctor told me that I hadn't even started to efface or dilate. With that bit of cheery news, I was told that if BB didn't make his appearance by July 6th, I was to report to the hospital for an induction. I wasn't at all pleased with that idea. I didn't want Pitocin, constant fetal monitoring, and a highly medical birth. I was all about the no drugs, delay cord cutting birth. My birth plan was very specific regarding how I wanted everything to be. But you know what they say about plans...
Part 2

Juice

BB wanted juice the other day. When he asked me, I was busy doing something else. I told him that I would get him some in a few minutes, and then forgot about it. When I happened to walk into the kitchen, I found him solving his own problem:

I'm amazed that he managed to get that much juice out of the nectarine, considering his technique!

Faith and Feelings

Sometimes it can be really hard to believe. To have faith. Long time readers know I have wanted another child for the past 3 years. A desire that has not gone away, or diminished. As I approach my personal deadline to get pregnant with another child, I find myself questioning the situation once again. In the past 3 years, I have never felt called to stop being open to life. I have, however, felt called to keep having faith. Fragile, finite person that I am, I find this upcoming 3-year mark very frustrating.
About 6 months after we started being open to another child, I felt like God spoke to me about the matter. I felt like I had been told that I would have a daughter whom I would name Grace. That experience was very similar to other times when I know that God spoke, which led me to believe that it was Him. Especially the fact that I was told to name the daughter Grace. Anyone who knows me in real life knows that I've had a different name than that picked out for a girl since high school. So why Grace?
Fast forward 2.5 years from that encounter, and I'm skeptical of what I heard, if I heard. Yes, there's the name thing. But maybe that was just my mind playing tricks on me. Cruel, horrible tricks. Tricks that get my hopes up every month only to see them crash and burn.
I remember how I felt when I stayed pregnant with BB. I was so excited. I thought I had been healed, that more babies would be a given. I have never felt called to remain open to life all of my child-bearing days, and I have said in the past no kids past 30. As I find myself at 29, with a (almost) 4 year-old only child, I am questioning that. I don't feel led to call it quits. But I don't feel hopeful, either.
Did I really hear God? Or do I just want something so much that I thought I heard? But if I just imagined it, then what's the explanation for the name?
I try to console myself that God's timing is not my timing. I know that God sometimes has us wait for things because He's knows we're not ready. I'm okay with that explanation until I wonder what exactly I'm being prepared for.

The Bounty of Motherhood

Motherhood has many gifts. Such as being designated, "She who gets the remains of pizza after a small child has nommed all of the cheese off the slice." I didn't ask for the remains. DH just plopped it onto my plate. Must be my lucky day.

If You Have A Weird Dream...

You should probably wake up.
Yesterday afternoon, I took a nap. To be precise, BB and I took a nap. Or at least I thought we did, because when I last looked at him, he looked asleep. But apparently he was just waiting for me to konk out. At some point during my (very) brief nap, I vaguely thought something about a mop. Then I heard shrieking. However, it wasn't until I heard DH tell BB not to wake me up that I woke up. Because BB was supposed to be asleep next to me. And DH was supposed to be outside working on the yard.
Long story short, DH happened to catch a glimpse of BB on the kitchen counter through the window. BB was happily filling cups of water at the kitchen sink and dumping them out on the kitchen floor. And singing, "Dumping out the water! Mopping up the floor!" To his credit, he did have the mop out and he had tried to mop up the water. But there's only so much that a Clorox quick mop can absorb. I guess that's the last nap for me!

My Messy, Loud, Funny, Crazy Life

When I asked readers for blog fodder, Kristen obliged by encouraging me to write about how I chose to become a SAHM. I know this can be a controversial topic for many people. I have readers who are SAHMs as well as those who work outside the home. So when I write about this, keep in mind that I'm writing about myself. I don't presume to know anyone else's situation.
For me, the decision to become a SAHM was simple. I had always envisioned my future as either having a career or having children. I knew that if I had children, I wouldn't want to allow someone else the privilege of caring for them. I am very fortunate to have a husband who not only supports my staying home, but who also has a job that allows me to do so. I know that there are many moms who truly need to work even though they want to be home.
Despite my strong belief that I should stay home, there was some trepidation when it actually came time to stay home. Even now, nearly 4 years later, I occasionally have some panic over my decision. I worry that my brain will turn to mush. I worry that my son will spend too much time with only me and grow up to either hate me or have mommy issues. I worry that come 2024, I will be completely lost. On days when I do have those fears, I thank God for the internet friendships that I have developed.
There is an irritating feminist voice that occasionally shrieks in my head that I am wasting my education. Which just goes to show how irrational this voice is, since my degree is in education! I have days when I am struck with guilt over the job that I am doing as a SAHM. I struggle with feeling that since I am staying home, I should cook dinner from scratch every night, have a spotless house, and constantly enrich BB's life. I fall pretty short of that on a regular basis.
My decision to be a SAHM was made even easier due to the fact that teachers don't make much. For me, continuing to teach would take me away from home all day and would hardly pay much more than the cost of daycare and working expenses. In my area, by the time daycare, work-related expenses, and taxes are subtracted, I would bring home around $12,000. Not an insubstantial amount, but I'm not ready to miss out on much of BB's development for $12,000 a year.
When I made my decision to stay home, I also thought about how teaching is more than a full-time job. If I had continued to teach, I would be bringing work home with me nearly every night. Yet I would still have to find the time to cook, clean, shop, and interact with BB and DH. My family wouldn't be getting my best; they would be getting the leftovers. I would know this, and it would only add to my stress. That type of stress isn't worth $12,000 to me. I could definitely think of some great ways to spend that money. But how much of that would be spent on something to make the loss to my family worthwhile? I would rather learn more self-control and live on DH's salary alone than to one day realize that BB is grown and I've missed out.
Plus, let's be honest - there are a lot of teachers out there. Education is a popular field. If I were to take a job teaching just because I wanted to work, I could very well be taking a job from someone who needs to work. And I don't want to do that.
As a parent, all I can do is my best. While I fall short of that, I keep trying and I pray that God will fill in the rest.

Don't Let this Happen to You

I'm sure you know how it is. You sit down at the computer for just a quick minute to check e-mail. But one thing leads to another, you're sucked in before you know it. You're vaguely aware of your child amusing himself with something. Since you don't hear anything crashing or anyone screaming, all must be well. You're finally shaken out of your internet coma to discover -




you're trapped -






While I know this is probably a reflection of poor parenting on my part, I am kinda impressed that BB knew to do this quietly without initially attracting my attention. I knew he was playing with his train tracks behind me, but I didn't notice what he was doing until he started piling the tracks on my feet!

Behind the Scenes: Christmas Tour '09

I'm sure y'all enjoyed the tour of my *spotless* home yesterday ;) Now that it's just back to my regular readers, I must confess that I get so nervous posting my house on a blog tour! Some of the ladies out there are a-ma-zing. I know this is terribly shallow, but I'll look at some of the houses and think that my house (which was perfectly acceptable 5 minutes ago) looks like a "before" picture.
Does anyone else out there go through that feeling? Sometimes I think blog tours (and maybe even blogs) seem like high school all over again. Don't get me wrong - I love blogging, and I love participating in tours. But there's an agonizing moment or two before I click on Mr. Linky to submit my contribution.
Not that any of you were intimidated by my photos ;), but I thought I'd share a few funny behind-the-scenes glimpses of my house before and during my attempt to stage it for the home tour. Just so you don't think my house is always that clean!

When I was setting up my Christmas village in the front hallway, I could not convince BB that the road was for the villagers and not his racecars. I fear that some of the village people had horrible accidents with no medical attention. Thankfully, BB stopped mowing down the villagers after I put the marching band on the road. Now BB just rearranges them so that they look like they're drunk ;)One drawback to being an only child is that you grow up with everything being about you. Sure, your parents may try to place the emphasis elsewhere, but you're not fooled. In true only-child fashion, I was asked to take several pictures of race cars during my home photo shoot. Why would I want to take a picture of anything else?

I also had to snap a few of the boy himself. He is a pretty cute subject, don't you think?

Most of my pictures had to be taken on the sly, lest BB come running into the picture.

Literally.

The photo shoot extended into naptime, which led to a rather irrational arguement about whether or not I could take a picture of this bookshelf. Why didn't I just put him down for his nap?
Since so many people show delectable goodies as part of their home tour, I decided to make something. Unfortunately, what I had on hand was the making of Rice Krispy Treats. I tried to Christmastize them with red and green decorating gel, but I wasn't too successful.

Oh, well. At least BB had fun.

In the interest of full disclosure, during my photo shoot, there was a roving mound of junk. Including, but not limited to, unsorted mail, a fast-food drink cup, a dust rag, and tape. There were also a few cars that were hurriedly knocked out of the way, and several requests made by me for BB to get dressed. Again.

My Favorite Comic Ever

Calvin and Hobbes is my all-time favorite comic strip. Of the entire series, this is my ultimate favorite:

Little did I know that I would one day be Calvin's mom ;p

Funny Boy

"Wanna go outside."
"No, baby, it's raining."
BB brings me his jacket
"Put jacket on."
"But baby, it's summer. You'll get hot."
"Jacket on, Puuuhhh-leeezzzeee?"
How can I resist that?
"Okay, but you'll get hot."

"Look, Mommy! Wanna go outside."

"See?"

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BB loves Cheerios. Really loves Cheerios. He wanted a snack the other day, but I told him no because it was too close to dinner time. All is quiet for a few minutes but then I hear the pantry door open and a skittering sound. I enter the kitchen to find BB happily eating out of the container.

Let's zoom out a bit, shall we?
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Honesty

I'm happy for all of the new moms, and their adorable babies. Really, I am. And hearing news about a baby on it's way makes me smile. But there is a lingering sadness underneath it all as I wonder if I've had my one chance and that's it for me. I've bought a new "I'm a big brother shirt" for BB. He's outgrown the first one without ever having a chance for it to be worn. I think I'm going to stop buying clothes on faith.
This past weekend with my sister was SO hard. I've dreaded it ever since I heard she was expecting. I know part of it was jealousy, although I don't want her baby; just another of my own. In my current mindset, it is easy to fall into the habit of thinking that many people who have kids don't deserve a kid like I do.
However, on the flip side of that, I often hesitate to ask God for another. There is a thought in my head that tells me that I don't deserve to have another because of my past. The thought goes on further to say that I would have another child if God saw me doing a better job parenting the child I have. I don't believe this thought, but it doesn't stop me from having the thought.
And in answer to your unspoken question, no, I still haven't actively pursued any medical avenue about this. Which is frustrating to me, because I am a "now" person. I don't want to wait for things that I want. But I'm also an afraid person. As long as I don't question the doctor about why it has taken so long, I don't have to get an answer that I don't want to hear. Yes, I know that "perfect love casts out fear," but I'm still human. I'm not perfected yet.
Also, there is the fact that every time I think about taking a more aggressive approach, I get the verse "By faith, Sarah* herself received power to conceive." stuck in my head. Not that I'm old like Sarah, but I often think that if it was going to happen, it would have happened by now. I'm sure that Sarah must have thought that many times herself as she waited for Isaac. Really, that whole reference is interesting in itself to me. Prior to BB, and all through my pregnancy with him, I never thought of Sarah, I thought of Hannah. In fact, BB's verse is 1 Samuel 1:27. So I wonder if Sarah comes to mind for a reason. I wish I knew.
I love being the mom to only one. In every way, my life is easier now than if I had another child. I just can't help feeling that something is missing. I realize that I have posted about this topic before, but it really is a pressing thing with me. I'm trying really hard to not get down about all of this, but it's hard. I'm having a hard time praying about it, which doesn't help. On one hand, I find myself just wanting to whine to God and go, "Please? Please? Puh-leeeeeese?"
I try to keep Romans 5:3-5 in mind through all of this. There are two endings to this situation. One, God will give me the peace to give this desire to Him and parent only BB, being grateful for what I have. Or two, God will use this time to perfect my character, which undoubtedly needs much work, especially if I am to have more than one child.
So when you post about your new baby, or your baby on the way, I'm happy for you. I truly am. I try to remember to pray often for all of the new mommas and mommas-to-be. But I might not always comment on your post. And more likely than not, I'll have to stop and have a cry.

*Hebrews 11:11, ESV. Most versions list Abraham, however, with Sarah receiving an aside, if any, mention.