currently blessing me

- Sometimes in regards to my marriage, I start a statement in my mind such as "I wish my husband could fix things around the house."  Or, "I wish my husband liked babies more."  Or, "I wish my husband got along better with our ADHD son."

The Holy Spirit stops me short every time, reminding me that the seeds of discontent start as soon as I think about what I don't have.  It's better, the Holy Spirit tells me, to say to myself, "I'm glad my husband never says unkind things to me."  And, "I'm glad my husband supports our homeschooling and helps whenever he can."  And, "I'm glad my husband knows the Lord and can teach us the Bible in its entirety."  The Lord is growing me up, little by little.  He takes me right where I'm at and inches me forward day by day.

- My daughters, sitting in the recycling boxes and singing "Row Your Boat" with me.

- My Beth and her love for all fruits--especially berries.

- My Mary loving to do chores.

- My Paul, who loves geography and does different things with his map puzzles every day.

- My Peter, who loves the natural world as much as I love chocolate.  Another way to put it:  As much as I need chocolate, he needs the natural world.

- Our yard and its sufficiency for our children.

- Online friends, who encourage and support.  Thank you, Connie!  Bless you!

- Hardships, to grow us up.

- Failures, to put our pride in check.

- My children, making up their own games, like flag football, played with stuffed animals inside their pants.

- The window in our playroom, which provides much amusement.  We couldn't keep our baby from climbing up on it, so we moved the couch in front of it, providing a safe means for window observation.  I think of it as the "observation deck".  They've watched many Momma Robin feedings out that window. And many squirrel adventures.

My Paul, who said during lunch, "Mommy, you're a good mommy."  Don't know why he said that, but it was uttered at just the right time.

- My Beth, sitting quietly in the playroom, contentedly trying on Daddy's socks.

- Mealtime Scripture, which continues to bless us and grow us.

- Bear Feels Sick,  from the Bear series picture books.  It is Mary's current favorite.  She loves that bear's friends so lovingly nurse him back to health, and vice versa.  Precious story.  Precious, loving daughter, to catch on to the lovely spirit contained in the tender story lines.

blessings and wonders

- My Paul, cheering at each and every firework.  The surrounding crowd enjoyed his enthusiasm as much as the fireworks themselves.

- My Paul, splashing in the waves at a lake beach, wearing a perpetual giggle.

- My anxiety-ridden Peter, beating a fear of the water and thoroughly enjoying himself in the lake.  He begs daily now to go back to the lake.

- My Mary, making her first sand castle.  She had such a good time building it with Auntie Lorrie and Daddy, that Auntie Lorrie took pity and bought some sand for our sandbox.  A huge summer blessing for our kids, but just plain sad for Mommy and Daddy, because we couldn't provide the sand ourselves.  Our pride is getting the best of us lately, I'm afraid.

- Auntie Lorrie ( my sister-in-law) and I are slowly becoming friends, rather than just relatives through marriage. We are so different that the first ten years of my eleven year marriage were kind of rocky, relational wise, between Lorrie and myself.  Never any fighting or anything--just typical in-law tension.  That is all gone, thank the Lord.

- James, the disabled bachelor I wrote about, had a very nice visit with our family and with Lorrie.  I'm sorry he had to go home to an empty house.  The kids really took to him, even though they hadn't seen him for two years.  At the end of the visit, on Tuesday morning, Mary said to me, "Mommy, I love James."  I suggested she go and tell him.  He was blessed!  The children wore him out, as usual, as well as Lorrie.  Both James and Lorrie always take a slow day at home to recover from their visits, telling us they just don't know how we do it day after day.  Grace of God, I tell them.

- I haven't heard any specifics yet, but my blogging buddy Jess probably had her baby around the 4th.  This baby is her fourth blessing.  She has a two, five, and eight year old at home.  Nothing prepares you for that.  Please pray for a smooth couple months with baby, with nursing, and with the older children.  Please also pray for help with meals, errands, childcare and housework.

- We're about done with our third Dr. Dolittle book.  Our county has no more of these stories available, but the librarian is searching all of Ohio for us.  Yeah!

- This post, for its reminder about what is really important.

- Our eleventh anniversary, celebrated with an Olive Garden lunch, thanks to Lorrie and James.

Sunscreen Guide 2010

Important ingredients to avoid include Vitamin A (accelerates cancerous tumor growth) and oxybenzone (disrupts hormones).

Here is the best guide for 2010.  Click on the highlighted phrase "tells you what you need to know" once you get to the website.

feeling the moment

Baby Beth's breathing steadies, finally, at 6:30 p.m.

My sweet Mary, filled with The Three Little Pigs, Goldilocks And The Three Bears, and prayer with snuggles, sees Momma blow her last kiss goodnight, around eight.

Two down, two to go.

Though tired, I gladly pull Dr. Dolittle: A Treasury off our library shelf and take it to the playroom.

Paul, his face lit up, stops his Lego project and jumps to the couch.  "Time for Dr. Dolittle!" he quips.

Peter takes his place on my other side.

Thank goodness for nursings and storytimes, giving mommas everywhere proper times for pause.

Dr. Dolittle and his extraordinary animal family quickly hook us.

"Dr. Dolittle is very kind", offers my Paul, three chapters into tonight's adventures.  "He puts everyone above himself."

"Yes, I agree.  I suspect that the author, Hugh Lofting, might be a Christian."

"Can you believe the kinds of stories people think up?  These are amazing!", Paul adds.

Yes, indeed.  I come to the same conclusion nightly.  Just wow.

The magic of the moment captures me tonight.  Powerfully.

My two boys, shoulder to shoulder with me.  Night after night.  Our bonds strengthening through stories shared.

I stop the flow of words to kiss each cheek.

"I love you, boys.  Besides my nursing times, I find reading to you the most wonderful part of my days.

"You do?", wonders Peter.

"Yes.  Momma feels so close to you.  So in love with her boys."

"Thank you", Peter says, feeling the moment.

"Let's get back to the story now", Paul suggests.

"Okay, Paul.  We'll do that", I say, amused at the differences in my boys' personalities.

One, so sentimental and careful.  The other, so enthusiastic and expressive.

How I love them, Lord!

toddler love language

"Eye", she says, poking mine with her confident, tiny finger.  Sleep, so needed, hasn't come these twenty minutes.

"Bow", she adds, stroking my eye brow, and then her own.

"Yes!  Very good.  Where are my eyelashes?"

"Der", she tells me, poking my eye again as she finds my lashes.

Giggling now, her nose meets my own. Eskimo kiss.

Taken in by her charm, I plant kisses on her tiny nose, on her criminally-soft cheeks, her Dove-soaped neck.

More giggles.

"I love you, Beth."

"Iyo u", she counters slowly, concentrating.  Then a smile.

A smacking noise escapes her, and leaning in she meets my lips hard.

"Thank you, Beth", I whisper.

Remembering the time, and the others waiting for their stories, I put my arm under Beth's head, pulling her into the breast once again.

Since her eighth month, all nursings have been in the queen bed we share.  She's too distracted to nurse in the common areas.

Daddy agrees with all the benefits of co-sleeping, but he doesn't like to worry about suffocating our babies with his covers.  And truth be told, he's a perfect grouch when woken in the night, even by a feverish child.  A second-shift, over-tired worker these five years, he's resigned himself to the arrangement.  He can't wait for our babies to grow into potty-taught preschoolers; I dread the day my last one does.  I love preschoolers, yes.  But never to mother a baby again?  That hurts fierce like.  Husband knows.  He is glad for my baby passion, for his children's sake.

For my part, while I miss him there, I know we'll share a bed for the rest of our days.  But my nursing babies?  A tiny fraction of my life is spent with them.  Too tiny.  Savor it I must.  Babies capture me, hold me hostage with their charms, whether they're mine or not.  It's always been that way.  No sacrifice to live in the moment with them.

Older when I became a mom, I know something of the passage of time.  The clock's slow ticking deceives.  Aged mothers savor.

She nurses a few minutes, stops.  Gets to standing position, jumps next to the wall, giggling.

"Wa" she says, touching the wall--looking at me for approval.

"Yes.  That's the wall.  It's time to go sleepy, Beth", I say, getting her back into position.

She wriggles away.  Fusses.  Tosses.  I hold her down gently, kissing her and singing softly.

Mad, she attempts to bite my arm.  Then thinks twice.  Stops.  Cries and wrestles.

I pull her into the breast once more.

She succumbs.  Nursing slowly.

Several minutes pass.  Eyes close briefly, then open.  She fights sleep.

Relaxation, brought on by hormones released in her body and mine, quiets us both.  I fight the closing of my own eyes.

Steady nursing gives way to intermittent flutters.  Eyes stay closed now.

"I love you, Beth", I whisper.

She sighs, hearing me.  Body relaxing further.

Seven o'clock light filling the room, I take in her beauty.  Eyelashes long, resting on milky skin.  Soft hair, light brown, frames her.  Natural curls lining the back.

She's perfect.  I'm awed.  Filled with gratitude.

I pray.  For her God love, her safety, her purity, her fertility, her husband, her in-laws, for a servant's heart in her.

Disengaging the breast, I slowly stole away, leaving the bed.

I stand by the door, briefly, to check for stirring.

Her breathing is steady, slow.  Sleep is her friend, for now.

I exit.

Fulfilled.