Googly eyes

Abby found my stash of googly eyes in the craft cabinet.

(What? You don't have a stash of googly eyes? You're missing out...)

This picture pretty much sums up the relationship she has with her three-year-old brother.

"Jacob, if you hold still, I'll make you a merry monster," she suggested.

These are my two very strong-willed kids, and it's fun to watch them navigate trying to get one another on board with an idea. This time, Jacob wasn't convinced.

"If you let me put these eyes on you, we can go scare Caleb," she added.

That's right. Lure him with the idea of ganging up on your brother. Nice move, Abby.

Now Jacob was intrigued.

And a little wary.

Maybe next time he'll pitch his idea first.

Snowpocalypse 2014: Southern Edition

In case you missed it, it snowed in our neck of the woods. It was no Virginia Snowpocalypse, but we didn't really feel like shoveling the driveway and raking the roof every few hours anyway, so that was just fine by us.

This was Levi's first real snow storm. (And by storm, I mean 1.5 inches, which was enough to declare a state of emergency and shut down the state. Again.) He loved it. He loved walking in it, he loved sledding in it, he loved picking it up and throwing it down again. He couldn't have cared less that he was wearing his sister's old snow boots and mittens. He was warm, and he was happy. He even thought falling down was hilarious. Which was good, because he did plenty of that.

Caleb was fast and fearless, as always. He went way too fast down the hill in our neighborhood and crashed into mailboxes more times than I can count. Then he trudged back up the hill and did it again. And again. And again. And he couldn't have been happier.

Abby seemed to have long forgotten the endless hours we used to spend out in the frigid weather, sledding and rolling and slipping down hills that were not the least bit age appropriate for her 2 and 3 year old self. She had little patience for the preparation required for rolling around in the snow and ice, and even less patience for the snow that landed in her face from errant snowballs. She was a master sled driver, though, and had tons of fun when I set her loose in the front yard with a spray bottle of pink water to decorate the snow.

And Jacob was, well....Jacob. It was his first real snow to play in, too, and he loved it just as much as Levi. He was cheerful, and eager, and full of seemingly endless amounts of energy. He never got too cold, or too worn out from climbing back up the hill with his sled after a good run. When the rest of the crew crashed at naptime after our morning adventures, he stayed awake, asking repeatedly when he could go back outside. After dinner, he was the first one back out the door, and threw snowballs and ran around on the ice until well after the sun went down.

I never wish for snow around here. It does terrible things to my part of the country. But when it happens, we sure know how to make the most of it. Purple boots and all.

Happy 5th Birthday, Caleb!

He will remember it as the year it snowed (again) on his birthday.

I will remember it as the year I nearly missed it because I was stuck in Snowmageddon traffic.

But to this little guy, everything went right on his birthday, including the freak snow storm that shut down the state.

In true Caleb fashion, he was only concerned with one thing: "When can I go play in it?"

And that pretty much sums up five-year-old Caleb.

He wants to play, and discover, and build, and take apart, and create all day long. I can already see we're going to have to be a little creative when it comes to kindergarten next year. There will be no sitting still and filling in blanks for this guy.

And that's just what I love most about him.

He's still just as rambunctious as he ever was, and if ever the term "bull in a china shop" fit anyone, it is Caleb. There are no limits to what he can destroy, break, or tear down if given the chance (or a few moments unsupervised). "Why are your closet doors on the floor?" and "Where did that doorknob come from?" and "How does that even happen?" are all phrases we have used around here, some more regularly than others. He means well, he truly does. He just doesn't know the limits of his own strength.

When you combine brute strength with an insatiable curiosity, a few things are going to get broken.

And oh, is he ever curious. He's going to learn to read this year, he tells me, so he can know all the things in all his books. He's going to build rockets and cars and bridges and tunnels and he's going to do it all in the comfort of our backyard. He's constantly trying to solve something or create something or tell you about some new discovery of his. He needs to know everything about every rock, every stick, every inch of our backyard, and he's going to get very, very dirty figuring it all out.

He still talks non-stop. I don't mean he talks a lot. I mean from the time he wakes up until the time he goes to bed, his mouth is always moving. If you've ever wanted to know what a five-year-old thinks about all the time, we have your answer. Because every thought that passes through his head comes across his lips. There is no filter. It is noisy, very noisy to be around Caleb. And hysterical at times. But at least we always know when something is bothering him, and precisely what that something is.

He loves deeply. He gives the best hugs, and shows the most sorrow, and cares sincerely for people around him, both friends and family. He remembers birthdays and favorite animals and knows just what to say when someone is hurting. He's quick to say he's sorry and even quicker to forgive when he's on the receiving end of an offense. He forgives completely, and loves even more. He is truly a gift, in this way, and often serves as a walking, talking reminder of how we are called to love and forgive one another.

He loves his brothers and sister, and still wants to be with them more than he wants to be without them. He'll play by himself for a while, but it usually only takes a few minutes before I find him wandering through the house searching for someone to play with him. He doesn't even care what they play, in general, so long as they can play it together.

He's still my favorite Caleb in the whole world, and I'm still in awe that I get to be his mom.

Happy birthday to my favorite little shark lover!

Mistake No. 974

My list of parenting mistakes is an extensive one.

But peanut butter and Nutella quesadillas? That's coming in pretty close to the top right now.

I probably could have thought this lunch through a little better.

Improvisation

We own plates. And a table.

But when the one-year-old wants a snack and mom's not moving fast enough, sometimes his older siblings have to improvise.

Be of good cheer

There is something very tangible about eternity when someone you love is already there. 
I imagine my unborn baby worshiping in the presence of our Savior. I see those hands I’ll never hold raised in worship that will never end, and I long to be there. 

But God, in his infinite wisdom, has placed me here, and here is where I'm called to love and serve Him, and share Him with the broken world around me.

Four years of grieving and four other beautiful children do not fill the void left by a child who never had a birthday. Only Jesus can do a thing like that. And He has, and He continues to. 

I've learned that I'm not good at grief all the time. Sometimes words of encouragement sound all well and good, and sometimes they are salt in my wounds. I mostly don't talk about it, except to comfort another. And every so often I still need to cry for the baby I lost, and that's okay. 

God didn't call me to dry my tears and move on. Jesus wept bitterly. He let a woman wipe his feet with her tears. God is not unacquainted with sadness, or put off by my sorrow that sometimes springs up out of nowhere. My prayer for our baby was that God would use his or her life for His glory. That life was shorter than I'd hoped, so I'm left to reflect on the work the Lord has done in me, and hope that He will be glorified in my remembering.

In the four years since our miscarriage, I have tasted and seen that the Lord is good. I have found refuge in Him. (Psalm 34:8)

I have reminded myself that the Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. And I have blessed the name of the Lord. (Job 1:21)

I have been reminded over and over again in His word that the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but God’s steadfast love will not depart from me. (Isaiah 54:10)

But I do not have a quick verse I can flip to to assure me that I’ll meet my child face to face one day. What I have is the simple assurance that my God is good, my God is holy, and my God, in an act of truly scandalous grace, breathed life into my heart of stone and offered me a salvation I didn’t deserve, and that I could never earn. I imagine the God who loves me like that--the God who bids me call him Abba, Daddy, the God who knew the baby I lost before He formed that child in my womb--is caring for that child even now. I hope. And I wait.

"But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in him." (Lamentations 3:21-24)

I must remember, even when it stings, that this suffering is temporal. And I say that knowing I will likely grieve this loss in some form or fashion for the remainder of my days here on earth. 

But this world is not my home, and this life is not my end. 

"But it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ. He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come." (2 Corinthians 1:21-22)

Four years ago, I learned a hard lesson. God taught me that that my source of strength, of hope, and of joy cannot be found, or lost, in any of His blessings--even the blessing of a child. 

Be of good cheer, my Savior tells me.

“...for in this world, you will have trouble. But be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

Those of us who are in Christ--we who have trusted in Him completely for our salvation--know that there is nothing that can separate us from His great love, no matter how painful. Miscarriage is a devastating loss, to be sure. But at the bottom of that pit I found the only true source of hope in the Giver of all good things, the Savior who knows my suffering and carries me through it.

“He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? ...For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:32, 38-39)

And so I long for eternity--not because I hope to see my child there, but because I can’t wait to see my Savior there.

Jesus! what a friend for sinners! Jesus! lover of my soul;
Friends may fail me, foes assail me, He, my Savior, makes me whole. 

Hallelujah! what a Savior! Hallelujah! what a friend!

Saving, helping, keeping, loving, He is with me to the end!

Jesus! what a strength in weakness! Let me hide myself in him;

Tempted, tried, and sometimes failing, He, my Strength, my vic'try wins. 

Jesus! what a help in sorrow! While the waves of sadness roll,

Even when my heart is breaking, He, my Comfort, helps my soul. 

Jesus! here I bring my burdens! Boundless joy in You I find.

You have granted me forgiveness, I am Yours, and You are mine!

Hallelujah! what a Savior! Hallelujah! what a friend!

Saving, helping, keeping, loving, He is with me to the end!

Ready for takeoff

Levi found the costume box.

Abby says she helped him with the airplane. The hat he added himself.

This kid just took adorable to a whole new level.

Worth every penny

This $5 roll of unused newsprint from the local newspaper has made for hours of fun for these kiddos.

As a bonus, we can simply peel it up after meals and the table is already clean.

Hours of fun. Cuts down on mealtime clean up.

Yep. Pretty much the best $5 I've ever spent.

Who needs snow?

When our friends in Virginia told us about the inch of snow an hour they were getting, we were _this close_ to packing up the car and making the twelve hour drive to hang out on their farm and go sledding. 

Seriously. It was a lengthy dinnertime debate, that eventually ended with the decision to stay home. Something about airports being closed, and visions of being stuck on the interstate in a blizzard with Finding Nemo on repeat in the van. 

In hindsight, it was probably the right decision. 

So to make up for the not-driving-north-to-see-snow, we capitalized on our 12 degree morning and froze a t-shirt instead. It took less than 10 minutes, and the kids thought it was pretty cool. Except for Caleb, who insisted he had planned to wear that Angry Bird shirt today.

Frozen t-shirts are almost as fun as sledding, right? 

Feast and famine

During our morning Bible reading, we've been talking about the life of Joseph--his troubles with his brothers, his slavery in Egypt, and his rise to power in Pharaoh's house. To illustrate the story of the famine in Egypt that would lead to Joseph's reunion with his brothers, our devotional suggested a clever little family experiment.

So two weeks ago, we instituted Seven Days of Plenty, which would be followed by Seven Days of Famine. The kids received a big cup of treats at breakfast for one week, and a bag to use as a "storehouse" on which we would mark the days as they passed. They were reminded that the following week,there would be no treats, so they should save some for the days of "famine" that were coming.

The first grader got it. The four and under crowd, not so much. Day One found Caleb and Jacob shoveling every marshmallow they were given into their mouths at once, and begging for more. Abby, meanwhile, was busy counting hers, and planning how many she would like to save to enjoy for each of the seven days of famine that she'd been warned of.

Day 2: 
Discussed some of the reasons why Joseph gave his brothers the bread they'd come to buy and put their money back in their bags. Maybe after all those years of hardship, he still loved his brothers and wanted to take care of them. Abby decided to stash away extra skittles since her brothers are already behind in their famine preparations. There are more lessons than we anticipated in this experiment.

Day 3: 
Jacob is running around chanting "The famine is coming!" like he's warning us of a British invasion. Abby has enough treats in her reserve to feed each member of the family one tiny piece per day when the famine comes. Caleb wants me to hide his bag of stored treats so he's not tempted to eat them. This is going very well.

Day 5:
Jacob is still not entirely on board with the idea of saving anything for the days of famine that will soon be upon us. We've taken to helping him divide up his rations each day, since "the future" is too arbitrary a concept for him to plan for.

Day 8:
The famine begins. We explained that there are no sweets, no desserts, no special treats for the next seven days. Except, that is, for what they have in their "storehouses." The 6-year-old, like an auctioneer, surveyed the situation and began bartering high value green skittles and marshmallows like a pro. The 4-year-old seems confident that he will survive the week on what he has. The 3-year-old needed help not pouring the entire contents of his bag into his mouth. The 1-year-old has had a little help from mom, and should make it through the famine just fine. I predict weeping and gnashing of teeth by Day 12.

Day 10: 
Things are starting to get serious. Jacob has only two skittles left in his storehouse, both green, because he flashed those big brown eyes at his sister and she traded him for some pistachios. Abby has enjoyed a generous helping of treats each morning at breakfast, and a few at lunch as well, because of her excellent hoarding skills. She has more than enough, she says, and is trying to show the rest of us poor planners grace by sharing from her stash of plenty. Caleb is getting a little nervous watching his supply dwindle, and has shown a measure of self-control never before demonstrated in his impulsive life. As a bonus, they're all getting good at math, as each day they must subtract from their supply, then divide by our number of days remaining to see how many treats they can reasonably enjoy without running out before this famine ends.

Day 12: 
A dark cloud falls over the land. Jacob consumed his last remaining skittle today. Abby offered to trade him two pistachios for it, but the temptation to eat it was too much, and alas, it was gone before she could finish explaining that now he will have nothing to eat for the remaining two days of our treat famine. Caleb is down to one skittle and half a pistachio. It's no feast, but it will get him through the next 48 hours. Because she listened to the voice of her father and planned for this famine, Abby will be enjoying a dessert of three M&M's tonight while the rest of us look on. Tomorrow will test the limits of her kindness and self-preservation. She has more than enough to feed her brothers, but will she? Time will tell.

Day 13:
She doesn't want her brothers to go without, but marshmallows are delicious. Today was a hard day for everyone.

Day 14: 

With an empty storehouse and a heavy heart, Jacob faced our last day of famine. "Where are my treats?" he wondered aloud. Abby and Caleb, busy enjoying the last of their stashes, were quick to remind him that he had finished all of his treats already. And then, sensing his sadness, Abby passed her brother a pistachio, and assured him that tomorrow the famine would end, and he would no longer be starving for sweets.

The lessons in all this?

First and foremost, listen to your parents. We warned them daily that the famine was coming. We encouraged them to save up their treats for the days to come. We helped them exercise self-control when they were tempted to devour all their goodies at once. We are wise beyond their years. And we can be trusted to do what's best for them.

Second, delayed gratification is a good thing! Sure, it would have been delicious to eat up all those treats we gave them every day. And sure, it was hard to put a few away for the future. But it paid off dividends in the end (for those who were able to do it). Abby made it through the treat famine mostly unaffected. Caleb, too, though his stash was smaller, was grateful in the end for the times in the previous week when he didn't gobble up everything in sight. And Jacob learned the hard lesson that comes from not planning ahead, and having to rely on the kindness and graciousness of others (in this case, his sister) for help in times of need.

Lastly, Joseph must have had an awful lot of love for his brothers. They taunted him, threw him in a pit, sold him into slavery, lied to their father that he was dead, and years later, he forgave them. Just like that. And they didn't even really ask for it. How was he able to forgive, and love, and provide for his brothers so abundantly after all they'd done? Joseph recognized God's sovereignty in the whole pit-to-prison-to-Pharaoh's assistant story that was his life. We don't love because of what someone else says or does. We forgive, and we love, and we show kindness because of who God is. Period.

I'd say this experiment went very well.

Mars or bust

Abby has given some serious consideration to the feasibility of living on Mars, and fully expects to see the mission come to fruition in her lifetime.

Her sustainable-life facility includes a food storage facility, large oxygen and water tanks to supply the base, windmills to provide power, separate living and sleeping quarters, and even a farm.

Now it's just a small matter of getting there.

A story to tell

He has more imagination than all my other kids combined.

From the time he wakes up until he closes his eyes at night, he is imagining, creating, dreaming up adventures.

We know, because there is no filter with this kid. Every thought that passes through his head comes right out of his mouth. He never stops talking. And about 90% of what he says is completely fictional.

He knows this, he assures us, when we remind him time and again that those things never happened, or we never said that, or that sharks can't really talk, or that there are no coyotes in his room.

"I'm just pretending, Mommy."

He will be an author or a screenplay writer or a fabulous teller of bedtime stories one day.

But for today, he is a construction worker shark. Or a shark fireman. Or a real cowboy, like Uncle Matt. Or a pirate. Or Daddy, on his way to work. Or a knight, slaying a dragon with a sword and shield made out of blocks.

But he is rarely ever just Caleb. He has too many stories inside him to simply go around being himself all the time.

Bibliophile

Being a lover of books, a voracious reader and a fairly responsible six-year-old has earned Abby the privilege of staying up later than her younger siblings to read each night. But at 8:15 (or later some nights, depending on how quickly we fly through the bedtime routine) she knows it's time for lights out. She takes the responsibility seriously, and rarely, if ever, requires parental intervention.

So at 10:30 last night, I was more than a little surprised to see her light was still on. 

Until I walked in and realized that she was, in fact, sound asleep. There she lay, face down in the middle of a chapter on the fundamental laws of nature in her new science book, It Couldn't Just Happen, a book she picked from the shelf because she says has already read all of our other books. (And I'm confident she has.)

Her conversation this morning has been filled with explanations of how it takes energy to make the earth's ozone and how termites produce methane gas. 

I am certain I'm raising a slightly odder-than-usual six year old. And I love it.

Leafy greens

Hey Mom, if you need me, I'll be over here snacking on these delicious kale chips that everyone made fun of.

Because I don't care what they say. These things are delicious.

If you don't mind, I'll just swipe them right off the counter and into my mouth while you're not looking.

Sincerely,
Levi
a.k.a., the one who will give Caleb a run for his money when it comes to this whole "good eater" thing

Alone time

He is, without a doubt, our most well-adjusted child. His interests change from day to day, and he's happy to go along with whatever it is the rest of us happen to be doing, or to simply be left alone, if that's what the situation demands.

Currently, Levi is perfectly content to sit in this closet, building and destroying towers of blocks until someone invites him to join them in doing something else.

I really like this kid.

Housekeeping

I'm not going to sugar coat it. My newest parenting scheme makes me feel like a genius.

The hubby and I agreed it was time for Abby to have some chores. She has some regular tasks she's expected to complete each day (basic hygiene, room maintenance, etc.), but she loves responsibility, and we decided to capitalize on it.

For something to really work with Abby, she needs to feel like it is her idea. One of my biggest challenges in parenting her is convincing her that my ideas are really good ones, and getting her to adopt them as her own.

(Go ahead. Shake your head and remind me that she should obey because I'm the mom and I said so. Then reread your copy of The Strong-Willed Child and tell me what I'm doing wrong. I'll be over here raising my confident decision-maker the best way I know how.)

I took her to Michaels, where we bought some construction paper she needed to make the world's largest tape measure. And then we just so happened to be close to Bed, Bath, & Beyond, so we popped in there too, just to see what we could find (wink, wink).

Would you look at that? Tiny little hand-held vacuum cleaners!

Abby, they're just your size!

She tried out a few, picked out her favorite, and off we went.

When we got home, she insisted on vacuuming the perimeter of Caleb's room first, "since his room is the filthiest."

Then she did the stairs, "because my vacuum is a lot easier to clean the stairs with than your big one, Mommy."

And the more we looked around, the more we realized just how perfect her little vacuum would be for things like baseboards, under dressers, and tight corners all over the house.

"Let's charge it so it will be ready next time I need it," she reminded me when the novelty wore off.

Of course, Abby. Anything you say.

Not seeing eye to eye

Oh that?

That is the look Jacob gives me when I'm about to totally cave into his demands, and he's just waiting for me to realize it.

That look says, "Come on, Mom. You know you're going to let me play with these trucks for a few more minutes. Let's stop with this whole time-to-clean-up-your-toys thing."

If you listen closely, you can hear the gentle swoosh of his lashes as he bats those big brown eyes at me.

We are locked in an epic battle of wills around here. And he has cuteness on his side.

Still a little sleepyhead

Someone was not altogether pleased with my declaration that naptime was over.

In fact, someone decided he would just lie right back down, tuck himself in, and whine about it.

And shenanigans like that are why we don't leave 18-month-olds in charge of decision making around here.

(And yes, his mattress is on the floor inside that crib. Someone decided to follow in his siblings' footsteps and try life as an escape artist. We thwarted those plans pretty quickly.)

Short-lived

For a few glorious minutes this morning, all was quiet. The children entertained themselves in various corners of the house while I enjoyed a few moments of not having to get on to someone for something. There was peace throughout the land. So caught off guard was I by this phenomenon, I simply wandered around taking pictures of it instead of using the peace and quiet for any sort of productivity. I don't know how it happened, or why, but I appreciated every second of it.

Like all good things, this soon came to an end.

I will forever treasure the memory of these ten minutes.

Precious moments

There was so much giggling coming from Abby's room, I simply had to sneak upstairs and see what she and Caleb were up to. And they were so cute, I had to take this picture.

And then I remembered this picture, taken over four years ago, that I have hanging up next to my kitchen sink.

October 2009: Abby, age 2, and Caleb, 8 months old

And then I got a little weepy, because I see that picture every day, and it always seems like that moment just happened.

Perhaps it's because that moment happens often with these two. And perhaps because time with these little ones is going by much too quickly.

Excuse me while I grab a tissue.

Snow day!

No seriously. I promise you it's snowing.

And I mean big, fluffy flakes. The kind that blow in big gusts across the yard and land on your tongue if you hold still long enough.

The kind that make Jacob really, really worried that I'm not wearing a coat for the five minutes we're outside to play in our wintery wonderland.

But not the kind that stick. Because in our neck of the woods, real blizzards just don't happen all that often. There was no sledding in this snow. (Though they did ask.) There will be no building of snow forts or eating of snow ice cream.

There won't even be gloves. Because around here, you never know how long those flakes will last. And wasting time to find gloves just might mean you miss the snow all together.

Trouble

He refused to stop wandering around with his milk, so I took it away and put it on the counter.

This did not sit well with him.

Just what I needed. Another climber.

Black-eyed peas and collard greens

Happy New Year from the family of fish!