...usually finds us at our homeschool co-op. Not today, however.
The little coughs and sniffles of earlier this week have turned into more noticeable health afflictions, with Josiah being the hardest hit. When I checked Josiah's fever last night and the thermometer read 102.7, it was an easy decision to make to not go to co-op. I called the lead teacher of the class in which I was supposed to be assisting, and she quickly assured me that she could handle things just fine and I was free to stay at home with my boys. Yippee! :)
At the present time, Tobin is having his morning nap, Josiah and David are resting on the couch while watching a movie, the washing machine is spinning its way to another load of clean laundry, the temperature outside is already up to 60 beautiful degrees, and I'm seizing the chance to blog. This post will be an assortment of all kinds of random things--just a chance to catch up and jot down things that have been on my mind, things that I don't want to forget.
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How about some more pictures from our recent trip? That seems like a good place to start!
At the Children's Museum in Portsmouth, Tobin and I enjoyed some time in the play area for ages 3 and under; it was a perfect place for him to explore things at his level while Josiah was off exploring things at his level! David went back and forth a few times between the two areas; but while he was with Tobin and I, he enjoyed rolling two balls down this slide to see which one would get to the bottom first.
Tobin enjoyed sitting at the bottom and watching the balls come down.
Tobin would pick up the balls and was usually quick to offer them back to David...
...but sometimes he would need to hold it and study it first...
...before letting it go, to wait with empty hands for the next time the balls rolled down to him.
Tobin also enjoyed standing by holding onto various low toys, just the right height for him. Note: he did not get into a standing position by himself--he's not pulling up on stuff yet--but when I put him in that position, he loved it and was able to stand there by himself for quite a while.
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A few weeks ago, Jeff and I sat down for a pow-wow with my parents. During the three and a half years that we've lived here, we've only done this a handful of times; but all of us agree that open communication is essential to making our relationship great, especially when living in such close connection to each other. I'm extremely grateful for parents who WELCOME input into their lives and want us to tell them if they're doing something that bothers us (and we want them to do the same to us).
The main issue during our last meeting was--are you ready for this?--the fact that my mother was helping me too much, and it was bothering me. :) After you're done laughing and snorting in derision at the thought of TOO MUCH help, let me assure you that if you haven't lived in a situation similar to ours, you probably won't get it. But if you have lived close to extremely helpful and sacrificial parents, you might begin to understand how I was feeling, which was basically like a 3 year-old feels as his mommy tries to help him zip up his coat, but he stamps his foot and says he can do it HIMSELF. As grateful as I was for the help and as much as I knew it came completely from a heart full of love for us, it still seemed out of balance. I wasn't learning to stand on my own two feet, and Mother wasn't having the time she needed for other things. Anyway, the conversation went great, and Mother has stopped helping me so much (yay!). I'm learning to handle things as a homeschooling, homemaking mother of soon-to-be four without the training wheels of her help; and she is having time to do other things (like go to a morning of prayer today with a friend from church and...oh, yeah...lay in the hospital for a few days last week). :)
Again, I don't know if that will make any sense to those not in this situation; but it makes sense to me.
I continue to be immensely blessed by the support system of having her and Dad nearby. That gives me such comfort as I know that I can call on them for help when needed. What would I do without that?
All of this came to my mind again when I was reading an article in the March 2009 issue of Baby Talk magazine that I picked up in the office the last time I visited the midwives. In an article from the book The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan, I read these words, written by the author about the time when her mother came to visit shortly after Kelly had had her first child. "When my mom came out the next week, the days were much quieter. Her goal was to do everything but breastfeed. When Georgia was not nursing, she wanted me to go get a pedicure or take a walk or read my book. But I was so proud of my baby and all the things I already knew about her--how she always had crud behind her ears or how she liked Desitin in the creases of her thighs. I wanted my mom to applaud my expertise, but my mom just wanted to relieve me..."
I could relate to that completely. My mom, remembering well the challenges of early motherhood with the constant demands of family and home and the impossibility of doing it all and doing it as well as we would like(!), simply wanted to help. I, feeling like a young butterfly emerging from a cocoon, simply wanted her to stand back and watch and tell me how well I was flying...and pick me up if I fell down and cried. :)
Now that I've had a few weeks to practice, I'm learning some new ways of doing things that I think will work well for this particular phase of life (which will last a few more months, and then we'll be into a new phase!). With laundry, for example, I'm not as caught up as I would like to be; but I'm discovering that I can conquer the mountain little by little. Here's the new routine that I'm starting to implement: put a load in the washing machine at night and let it run. In the morning after I feed Tobin his breakfast, transfer it to the dryer. By the time it finishes, Tobin is about ready for his morning nap; but he likes to sit on the floor of my bedroom for a little while longer and look at books or play with blocks while I straighten up my room and fold the load of laundry--and put it away. I must put it away immediately when I fold laundry on my bed, rather than the guest room bed where the stacks can sit for days, undisturbed except by us occasionally grabbing a pair of socks or some jeans from the pile! :) After I'm done with this, I put Tobin in bed and then come downstairs to focus on Josiah and David (who usually enjoy very much this time of free play in the morning). Since I'm still in the catching-up phase of laundry maintenance, I've been doing more than one load a day; but I'm excited about the idea of using this schedule (with flexibility, of course) to keep up with our laundry. It's the little things in life that make me happy. :)
With all of this, however, I realize that as the time approaches for me to give birth and particularly after The New Baby is born, I won't be able to soar with my schedule and do it all myself. I'm so thankful that--Lord willing--my mother will be here to lend her hands and give me some extra help during that period of time!
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These days, it seems like everywhere I turn in the world of blogging, I'm reading about suffering. A while back, it was the family of Cora, the 11 month-old who died rather suddenly from cancer (which I mentioned
here). More recently, I've read
Sweet Caroline about Bonnie, who has a daughter named Caroline, of course, and who is pregnant again. Her husband Thomas died in a car accident in January. Eerily similar is
Tara-Nator, about a pregnant woman with a young son whose husband unexpectedly died in a car accident. Yesterday, I was gripped by the story of Jonah on the
Williams Family Blog; he was born on February 27 with an extremely rare disease and is fighting an uphill battle for his very life. And then there are the
McKays: another young mother with a son and pregnant with a daughter, who just lost her husband after a very short illness (basically 10 days). Tragic, all of it. But each of these families has a deep faith in God which is sustaining them; and as I sit here and wish I could do more for them, all I can do is pray for God's comforting arms to be very real to them in the days to come.
When I read about sick children, my mind automatically asks, "What if that were one of my sons?" When I hear of a husband dying suddenly, I remember all the millions of times I had thoughts of Jeff dying when we lived in Israel. I don't think I'm exaggerating much when I say the possibility of him dying was an everyday thought to me; yet I realize that, even though we live in a different part of the world without the dangers specific to our Tel Aviv bus-riding lives, he still could die any day. That fact hasn't changed, though I certainly don't think about it as much. What I do, however, is feel a deeper gratitude for my husband and children every time I read someone's story of loss. I hug them closer, listen more patiently to them, give them extra kisses, and thank God more fervently for each day we have together.
With these thoughts of suffering on my mind so much recently, I was particularly interested in an article in the November 2008 issue of The Voice of the Martyrs magazine (I'm obviously behind in magazine reading; that's why I was just now getting around to the Nov. 08 edition!). It's an excerpt from Richard Wurmbrand's book The Overcomers. Here is what he writes:
Even the best of Christians are troubled by the question, "Why does an almighty God send, or at least allow, suffering?" When you are nagged by thoughts like this, say to yourself, "I am still in elementary school. When I graduate from the university of Christian life, I will understand His ways better and doubts will cease."
We do not have the right notion of might, which to us means the power to crush, to subdue, to suppress, to punish. There exists another might--it is the might to love, to be patient and quiet, to suffer innocently, and to be good to the wrongdoers. When we think about energy, we think of it as kinetic, a quality that makes all things move. But there exists the huge reservoir of potential energy, of energy at rest. There exists the power of quietness, of serenity.
A Communist officer told a Christian while beating him, "I am almighty, as you suppose your God to be. I can kill you."
The Christian answered, "The power is all on my side. I can love you while you torture me to death."
Such is God's almightiness--it is reflected in the deep tranquility of the souls of saints. They do not ask the troublesome question, "Why all the sorrow?"--they have learned to love the cross and to be rejected without comfort. Once you take this attitude, the perplexity ceases. What child is troubled when he receives a much desired gift?
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Last for this very long post (and much less significant than the previous topic), I want to record some info about the header pics I've used so far this year. When I print this blog off as a book, I want to remember what these headers looked like; and that wouldn't get captured in a blog book unless it was in the body of the blog, not the header or sidebars. Anyway, just because it's important to me... :)
The header for January was a picture I took of Jeff, Josiah, and David sledding on January 17, 2008, five days after Tobin was born.
February's header was a picture that my dad took of Dry River, a local river not too far from our house that
occasionally has water in it! We crossed it the other day, by the way, and it looked as dry as a bone. Dad captured it on a pretty winter day (I forget which month and year) when the water was flowing.
For this month's header, I used a photo that Jeff took in March of 2006 during his mother's first visit to our new home in Virginia. Jeff took this on a Sunday morning when we drove the back way to our church service, just so we could see the buggies and show off this part of our local culture to his mother.
~ background is
Sassy Dots from The Cutest Blog on the Block
I need to start thinking about what the header for April (my favorite month!) will be! :)
