Catching my breath

Shew. I don't know how I just managed that.

Today, I took my girls to
a friend's house
Walmart (insert opinion--I loathe this place. Why do I go there? Only on days when it is a necessary evil, seriously. If you shop there on a weekly basis, we need to talk. Couponing and sale chasing will be a breeze compared to the inconvenience of shopping at this place and you will save money, I promise! To be positive, I did have a great interaction with one employee who knew exactly where the brad fasteners I need could be found and she was awesome. Unfortunately, she was the 3rd person I asked.)
McDonald's (in said Walmart)
Kohl's
Ross
TJ Maxx

We didn't get down for naps until 3pm. First time in either child's life, I believe, except for when we are traveling that they went down that late. They were great. They didn't argue, fuss, or crawl in the floor like snakes. Yes, that has happened before. They were patient, enjoyed being together, and acted like little ladies. It was so great and yet such a reminder that they are growing up.

The Sunrise

I thought teaching a child to read would be different than it's been with Hannah so far. I pictured a lightning bolt experience. A sudden "ah ha!" moment. Afterall, most milestones are that way, right? Maybe that's why I was afraid I might miss it. I missed her first word (daycare) and her first crawl (church nursery). I don't like missing things when it comes to my firstborn. So I have been over vigilant about the reading process. I have realized, though, that her journey to reading has been more like a slow sunrise than a fast moving thunderstorm. I have been here for all of it, soaking it up, watching the rays of light stretch across the horizon of her mind. It's been awesome.

And funny. Friday she was staring blankly at the Pringles can. After a while, she looked up with this confident smile and said, "Mommy! I know what his name is!" I wondered what in the world she was talking about and how I, a child of the 80's had somehow missed Mr. Pringle's first name. "Og!" she shouted. Og? Really, okay. Then I saw it. There was a symbol, lower left hand corner of the can stating that there were zero grams of transfats in this can. Og. Well, I didn't have the heart to tell her differently so if you come to our house and are offered some of Og's chips, please play along.

Miracle With Us

We're beginning to work on new music for Christmas in student choir. For those who don't know me well, working with the student choir at my church has completely changed my life. Outside of my family, it is the greatest blessing in my life. The songs we sing become an obsession, a soundtrack for me. Here are some amazing lyrics from "Miracle."

"Neither height nor depth, nor powers unseen...not the fears about tomorrow. Neither life nor death can ever separate us from Emmanuel, the miracle with us. In the light of your redeeming love by the power of your name Lord Jesus. I will scream it from the mountain tops, I'm a child of God!"

Sometimes I need to be reminded that it is nothing I have done or been that saved me. It's not even who I aspire to be or the process of my sanctification that causes Him to love me. He just loves me. And that, my friends, is a miracle. Wrap up in it because nothing else compares to it and nothing can take it away.

Tales from the Playground

With Daniel recuperating, Emily Hannah and I have stayed close to home. I tend to get a little cabin fever so we have utilized short errands and trips to the playground across the street to chase away the monotony. Here are some interesting conversations that took place today.

The playground is a wooden Rainbow system painted reddish brown and there are red/yellow/blue canopies over top. As I sat on the bench watching, Hannah called out to me from the inner chambers:
"Hey, Mommy! I'm in the ark!"
Me: "I see you, Noah!"
Hannah: "It's starting to rain."
Me: waiting
Hannah: Smiles sweetly, "You're going to die!"


The play equipment has seen better days and can be a little buggy. Emily got entangled in her first spider web today. We all know that feeling. She simply clinched her fists and with a look of terror, screamed,

"MOMMY! I got DEAD on me!"
Don't know if she misunderstood the pronounciation of the word web or if we have finally convinced her of the dangers of spiders but she was done.
"I'm ready to go home and eat a popsicle."

My life as a....

(can't believe I'm actually doing this) HOMESCHOOLER.

Let me begin this entry by saying that I know I blog very passionately about things that not everyone agrees with; for example, the importance of being a stay at home mom. I will say that I believe our number one priority as mothers is to pray earnestly about our relationship with our Heavenly Father and how it spills over into the lives of our families. Well, when I prayed that way, God sent me home. No where in scripture will you find the verbateum statement "and mother thou shalt cleave unto your domestic dwelling and seek no other income." But we find many passages instructing us to be the teachers, caregivers, spiritual foundation builders, and molders of our homes. I know that some of you wonderful mothers who read my blog work, and some of you just returned to work these past weeks. Please don't ever take my blog as an indictment against what you do. I love you! I am praying for you! You are out there, in the mission field being salt and light. Go and shine! Let's all try as mothers to pray for each other that above all else, God guards our hearts and minds and enables us to give the very best to our families.

Now, where was I going with that? Oh, yes. Some of you might groan as you see me beginning to blog about homeschooling. Well, listen. I am a former public school teacher, daughter of a former public school teacher, grandaughter of a former public school teacher, and grand-daughter of a former public school superintendent. This was not a decision I made lightly! I am giving this my best effort for the next two years, knowing since Emily would still be at home, I am not losing any potential income by not sending Hannah to school.

Let me tell you in my short days as a homeschooler what I have seen.
1. It's easier than I thought. There is a lot of prep but the delivery is fun and easy.
2. My girls love it. Hannah asked on Saturday and Sunday if we could do school and then after having to wait until Monday said that lesson wasn't long enough.
3. I am always trying to keep them busy with something anyway, so it's actually easier to have some of our day scripted by a curriculum, knowing they are learning something to boot.
4. Emily is learning some 4 year old curriculum. It has amazed me what she has picked up from simply being in the room with us. Rarely does she opt for leaving the table to venture out on her own but chooses to stay.
5. We are studying the Bible chronologically and I wish I'd done that as a child! My children are beginning with a better foundation than I had.
6. Finally, my favorite reason. Homeschooling reminds me why I came home! For the children! See, I so often get confused. As I tell Daniel, sometimes I have to be reminded to stop and smell the kids. I act as though I came home to clean, came home to help other people, came home to serve more at church, came home to take up hobbies, etc. No! I came home to nurture the two people I was uniquely created to care for better than anyone else. When I start my day in the arms of my Father, reading his word, I find myself more able to return to Him all day long and walk faithfully. Likewise, if I follow that by beginning the girls' morning by pouring into them and interacting with them, voila! A more nurturing day follows. Otherwise, I forget it's okay for the house to be dirty if the kids are happy, or that it's okay for them to giggle until they get hiccups, be late to the grocery store because of a tickle fight, and take a little longer at the library so we can do the Elmo puzzle 3 times, etc.
That's just me.

Toddler Tuesdays/Zingers

So over the past week we have said some really funny things AND some things that cut Mommy to the bone!

Sunday leaving church, Hannah:
"Mommy, I smelled something stinky in Sunday School."
Me, "Oh, really?" Not suprised. Her sense of smell has become very strong lately and I have one that is crazy good so it comes with the territory.
Hannah: "I think it must have been Micah or Addie 'cuz they had their shoes off."
(All apologies to my friends).

Hannah, leaving camp yesterday:
"We had fun, Mommy."
Me: "Did you? What did you play?
Hannah: "We played playdough."
Me: "Really? I LOVE playdough! That sounds fun."
Hannah, sounding shocked: "You like to play playdough, Mommy? You should try playing it with us some time at the kitchen table."
Ouch. I usually use playdough as busy work while I cook or clean. That hurt.

Finally, Hannah before bedtime last night:
"Mommy I want to play this game." Indicates the crazy eights Dora game out of the box.
I sigh, look at the instructions. "No, Hannah, this one is too hard" thinking she could not understand the concept of an 8 being wild.
She sighs, "Wellll, maybe I will just have to play it with Daddy. He knows how to play it. So does big Hannah (our babysitter). Sorry you don't know how."
Ouch again. Needless to say we played and I won by the skin of my teeth. :)

Four Years Ago Today...

I became a mother.

Hannah,
I remember sitting on the kitchen floor having "the talk" with your Daddy about starting a family. He was so ready. I remember bursting into tears and saying, "I want to have children but I don't want to change." How did I somehow know you would change everything?

I loved my job and I was a success junkie workaholic. The more I worked, the better I felt, and the better I felt the more I worked. My students were my life. Then there was you. I remember those first days back at school after you were born. I'd be in the middle of teaching a class and remember how your little head smelled when I kissed it. It would be all I could do not to run out of the room and go get you.

I'm getting ahead of myself. It was Christmas of 2004 and nothing felt right. Everything I ate made me so sick and your Daddy smelled terrible to me. On the way back from visiting family in Alabama, I made him stop at the store so I could buy a jar of pickles and a pregnancy test. We were going to have a baby!

You scared me from the beginning. New Year's Eve was spent in the emergency room. Slowly, though, we got comfortable with each other. School let out for the summer and I began to prepare for your arrival. I loved every minute of setting up your room and folding and washing your little clothes. August the 18th could not get here soon enough.

You must have agreed because early on the morning of July 24th, I was certain I was feeling contractions. For an hour, I timed them before waking your Daddy. We sat and timed together and called Gramma and Poppa. They arrived from Alabama just as we were leaving for the hospital. Once there, everyone wanted to help you, to give me pitocin, to break my water. I refused and you did it all by yourself. After my water broke, suddenly the mild contractions were not so mild. I reluctantly agreed to an epidural because I could not stop shaking. I think it was the world's best. I enjoyed your birth.

I pushed for almost an hour until things became urgent. After 16 hours of labor, there you were. A tiny, furry, six pound beautiful girl. You had wrapped the umblicial cord once around your arm and twice around your little neck. I think you fought so hard to be in this world because the bigger you got the tighter your necklace became. They began to test your reflexes. Your Daddy had been a trooper, but when they picked up your little arm and it just flopped down by your side, he nearly hit the floor. I barely held you before they put the world's tiniest oxygen mask on you and wisked you away for some special attention. You fought your way back to me, though.

I remember every moment of that first night. It seemed so magical to me to touch you and hold you and see how real you were. I could not believe God had given me this miracle, and I still feel that way every time I look at you. Four days later, we all got to come home together. I dressed you in the one preemie outfit we had and even that made you look, according to Gramma, like "one tater in a ten pound sack." We came home with a bilibed for you because you really looked more like a carrot than a tater. You had to spend 23 hours a day on this bed in nothing but a diaper. How I ached to hold you. You fought your way through jaundice too.

I wanted so badly to feed you like Mommys around the world have fed their babies for centuries, but between you being early, so little, me knowing so little, and not being able to hold you, our bodies just didn't work well together. Over the first five weeks of your life, I had five infections. Eventually, I was too weak to hold you and went to the hospital to get better. And as I laid in that hospital bed away from you every day I began to walk with Jesus like I never have before. This time I fought my way back to you.

In September, I went back to work and you went to a daycare that before you were born seemed adequate and clean. I barely held myself together dropping you off, cried in the car, and walked through the doors of the school. Though I was greeted by children that were so happy to see me and so eager to have me back, my heart was somewhere else. I made it to lunch time and drove over to visit you. I found you wrapped loosely in a strange blanket with the wrong paci, screaming your little head off in a crib in the far corner of the room away from all the teachers. I went and picked you up and whispered sweet Mommy things to you and as you quieted, the teacher looked at me and said, "She's spoiled, ain't she?" Well, I think my heart finished breaking that day. How I returned to school and what I taught that day blows my mind. Thanks to some good friends, I found a new place for you and God began to work on my heart.

I realized with the mentorship of my friend Sheila that for me, my work was to be your Mommy. My workplace was to be our home. Two weeks after returning to school, I was ready to come home. I told my principal and agreed to make it to the end of the sememster. Though I did it heartily as unto the Lord, it was the longest semester I ever remember. Then I came home to be your Mommy, and it has been the greatest, hardest job of my life.

Hannah, you are my joy and the greatest avenue of God's blessing in my life. Having you showed me the depth of my strength and my dependency as well. Thank you for changing everything about me. You are such a fighter, and you have a will of iron. So far you have defeated premature birth, jaundice, tonsil/adenoidectomy, a scary version of bronchitis, a deer coming through your car window, and nearly drowning. Because I hope one day you will read this, let me challenge you to always know why you are fighting and to count your costs. Fight for Christ. Pursue him above all others. I know you love things your way, but His ways are higher than ours. Choose His way. I love that you look like me, bless your heart, and that you are my number one buddy. I love your tender heart, weird sense of humor, big sister compassion, and indomitable spirit. I know God will use you mightily for his kingdom, sweet girl. I love being your

Mommy