Little David, Play on Your Harp...or on Your Rhythm Sticks, Whichever Is Handy

I am too spent tonight to attempt to write any of the "profound" thoughts swirling around in my brain, so I'll post a few pics from David's music class this morning and leave it at that. Suffice it to say that David loves his music class, and I love watching him love his music class. I'm really grateful we've had this opportunity to do something like this together--just him and I. My time with David almost always includes Josiah as well, which is also a good thing, but it is nice to be able to focus on one boy at a time for a while.

~ David with the group
~ David with Miss Christy, a well-loved teacher in our household since she was also Josiah's teacher for 3 semesters of music classes

Week 29

Another week of pregnancy has come and gone, and now (as of tomorrow) I'm out of the week 20s and into the 30s. Wow, where did the time go? It seems like it won't be long at all until our littlest fish(er) is hatched!

I'll start with the humorous part of this week because sometimes you just gotta laugh at yourself. Every night recently--in the middle of the night--sometimes several times in the night, I have been meditating on airplanes. Why airplanes? Well, because of a conversation I had with Josiah about how airplanes fly; and although I'm not at all technically versed in the mechanics of flight, I understand enough to try to explain how airplanes are affected by opposing forces: gravity v. lift, for example. One force is pulling in one direction, and the other force is pulling in the opposite direction...and whichever one is stronger will win.

You're probably wondering what in the world this has to do with pregnancy or night wakings or anything maternity-related at all. I'll try to explain it, although I think it's one of those things that only makes sense in the middle of the night and when the light of day comes, you think, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." Anyway...

At night when I wake up, I too experience opposing forces. On the one hand, my bladder is stretched to maximum capacity and is urging me to quickly go to the bathroom. On the other hand, as soon as I stand up, shooting pain races down the right side of my back, forcing me to stand still until the kinks in my muscles ease themselves out...or until I can muster enough courage to take a quick step on my right foot, knowing that the pain will be intense for a second until I can get the weight shifted back to my left foot again. As I continue writing this, it sounds sillier and sillier to me...but I can assure you that it's a real predicament! Do I listen to my bladder--or my back? How long can I allow Baby to shove my over-full internal balloon around until it pops? How long will it take for my back to work itself out so I can take a step with only minimal pain? Which opposing force will prove itself stronger?

And so every night, the phrase "opposing forces" echoes hollowly around and around in my brain--and I think about airplanes.

Several times recently, I have been sitting on the edge of the bed, recovering from one of these strenuous night excursions to the bathroom...and Jeff will wake up and ask, "Are you OK?" Hmm...short answer: yes. Long answer: well, no time for a long answer because invariably Jeff is asleep again already. :)

Did I mention last week that I can't do all that I'd like to be doing? Well, it's still true. This is the time of the year when there are last-minute outdoor projects that "need" to be done before the winter, and it's just about driving my mother and I crazy that we can't do them all. We keep trying to put each other on virtual bedrest: I tell Mother she needs to slow down and put her feet up because of significant pain/damage in her knee which is actually forcing her to have it operated on the end of this month, so obviously she can't be spreading mulch, carrying in wood, moving tomato stakes, etc. On the other hand, she thinks that I shouldn't be doing those things either! I've actually been feeling a lot more Braxton Hicks contractions during this pregnancy than I ever remember having in a previous pregnancy, but I sure hate to mention them because I know what my mother will say the next time she sees me trying to lift something heavier than a Q-tip! (Hmm..today I carried 3 gallons of cider at the same time; I wonder how many pounds that is?)

Speaking of good old Braxton Hicks...I had read about these mysterious contractions during my first pregnancy but was NEVER aware of having them. Whenever I asked someone what a contraction felt like, they gave me the stock answer: "Oh, honey, you'll just know it when you have a contraction." But I didn't. In fact, two days before my due date, I was in a Denny's restaurant in San Diego with several close friends, and we were talking about this same topic. I remember asking several of them who had children about how they knew when they were in labor, and of course they sort of laughed and rolled their eyes and assured me I would know it. Little did I (or they) know, I was actually in the early stages of labor at that moment! But it wasn't until I got home, tried to sleep, felt pain, and realized the PATTERN of it that it dawned on me that I might be having contractions and might actually be in labor.

So, I agree that at some point in labor, a woman realizes what is happening and becomes aware (quite aware) of contractions. But to tell her that she'll just know when she's having a contraction is about as helpful as saying "you'll just know when you're in love" or "these directions are so simple that you can't miss it." The only thing those kinds of comments do is make the person feel stupid when they can't figure it out!!!

OK, let me climb down off my soapbox now.

So, as I was saying, Braxton Hicks did not exist for me during my first pregnancy (at least, in my mind; maybe I had them and never realized it). And in my second pregnancy when I obviously had a little more experience, I occasionally felt a contraction during the later weeks of the pregnancy...but really, that happened fairly rarely (say that 10 times fast). In fact, the day that David was born, I woke up early in the morning with a contraction, totally convinced myself all day long that it was false labor, and didn't even admit it might be the real deal until we were at the airport outside of Tel Aviv picking my mom up who had just arrived in the country. That wasn't really a great place to make that discovery. Fortunately, in the end, it all worked out amazingly well...but that's another story.

Now, with baby #3, I do find that I'm more aware of what is going on with my body, and I occasionally realize I'm having--at last--this phenomenon that women talk about all the time: Braxton Hicks. Two pregnancies ago, when I first read about them, that they are essentially painless contractions, I thought the writer must have been off his/her rocker (probably "his," because what kind of woman would write about a painless contraction?) because I had never experienced a contraction that wasn't also accompanied by pain--or what writers of inspirational childbirth books like to euphemistically call "pressure." But you know, now I get it! Sometimes I too will feel a funny sensation and will think, "Oh, there goes my baby kicking again." But then I'll feel my stomach and it is TIGHT. "Aha," I'll think, "this must be a Braxton Hicks contraction. Finally I've arrived in the secret sisterhood of women who know what Braxton Hicks are!"

Now, if you are in the group of experienced mothers who is reading this and thinking that I'm way off base as far as this Braxton Hicks stuff goes, feel free to set me straight. I guess I'll be OK if you burst my bubble. But I really thought I'd figured it out...gulp...and knew what I was talking about...sniff, sniff...

Pretzel Shapes, a Crafty Critter, and Photography Practice

What do the three things listed in the title have in common? They are all part of Josiah's recent educational experiences!

Tonight the boys and I had a light supper since Jeff was away (at his last pottery class); and at the end of our meal as the boys were munching on these pretzel sticks, they started making letters (and a few words) with them--and for Josiah, that progressed to shapes. He made all the shapes he could think of that only use straight lines: square, triangle, rectangle, trapezoid, diamond, pentagon, hexagon, octagon. It was fun to see him work on this project completely from his own initiative. What a yummy way to learn!
After he made all these shapes, he wanted to take pictures by himself of them...so I happily turned over the digital camera to him and let him snap away. Most of the pics turned out blurry since he usually stood about an inch from the object of his photography! But he was so pleased with himself for taking them and he actually asked if I would put all of them on my blog. Well, I'll spare you that; but I did want to include the above picture that he took which I like because it shows me his point of view. Sometimes I forget that he isn't as tall as I am, and I expect his "world" to look like mine...when it clearly doesn't! :)
In this picture, Josiah is holding a crab that he made a few days ago out of a seashell, some modeling clay, some pipe cleaners, some googly eyes, and (of course) some paint. Josiah is always thrilled when he gets to paint something!

And now, for a report on my own educational experience, entitled "What I Learned Today."

I learned...that there are actually sweeter words that can come from Josiah's mouth than "I love you, Mommy." When he says looking across the dinner table to his little brother, "I love you, David. I love your beautiful eyes," I realize that to see Josiah's sibling love grow is truly more refreshing than me being the object of his affection. I guess this is because mommy love seems so natural to a child, but brother love (when said brother has been known to take your toys, invade your space, and divide your parents' attention) seems harder to cultivate. How many prayers have I prayed for my boys to get along and be great buddies? How many times have I anguished over their seemingly endless ridiculous conflicts? How earnestly do I long for them to be lifelong best friends? Countless prayers...unspeakably deep longing...and now to see a glimmer of light in their relationship is truly sweet. I'm not so naive as to assume that all will be joy and harmony from here on out! But I do feel encouraged by Josiah's expression of brotherly love today.

My Sister

We've been so glad to have my sister visiting with us from Charleston, West Virginia; she's spending the weekend here before soon moving to Texas...so we're savoring the moments together. Josiah and David LOVE their Aunt Donna!

Tonight we had a family dinner which was so much fun and so delicious. In the picture, from left to right, is my nephew Jason, my sister, her grandson Christian with a funny grin, and my niece Sheena (Christian's mom). Now really, does my sister look old enough to be a grandma??? :)

The Good, the Bad, and the Funny

This picture really has nothing to do with anything following, but it was cute enough that I wanted to throw it in anyway. :)

*****

THE GOOD

One of the books I've been reading recently is Front Porch Tales by Philip Gulley. Actually, I should say I've been "savoring" it, rather than simply "reading" it, because I read a chapter or two at a time when I have a spare moment, and then I mull over it while I go about my day. Reading Philip Gulley's books is like eating candy: so easy to do and so much fun!

A few days ago I read this, and I am reminded of it daily when I do the exact same ritual that Philip describes here:

Every night before I go to bed, I go check on my two sons. I stand over them and watch their little bodies, the rising and falling of life within. I often pray for them. Mostly I pray that their lives will be easy. "Lord, spare them from hardship." But lately I've been thinking that it's time to change my prayer.
Has to do with the inevitability of cold winds that hit us at the core. I know my children are going to encounter hardship, and my praying they won't is naive. There's always a cold wind blowing somewhere.
So I'm changing my eventide prayer. Because life is tough, whether we want it to be or not. Instead, I'm going to pray that my sons' roots grow deep, so they can draw strength from the hidden sources of the eternal God.
Too many times we pray for ease, but that's a prayer seldom met. What we need to do is pray for roots that reach deep into the Eternal, so when the rains fall and the winds blow, we won't be swept asunder.

And so my evening prayer, like Philip's, has become, "May their roots grow deep, Lord; may they grow deep into You."

*****

THE BAD

For some reason, the big, bad wolf of fear has started poking his head into my little house recently. I think it has to do with the way that darkness comes earlier in the evenings and sunshine comes later in the mornings, but for whatever reason my thoughts have turned more towards the robbery in the past few weeks than they had for months previously. All during the summer, I didn't have to come downstairs in the dark; but now when I get up before the sun and descend the stairs, it's all too easy to think about what could be standing outside our front door.

On the one hand, I know my fears are completely silly. For one thing, lightning doesn't strike twice in the same spot, right? A future crime against us would certainly not take the same form as the last one. But even more significantly, I know that God's angels are standing guard all around us; and nothing can penetrate their defense unless God allows it. So my mind tells me all these things, but sometimes my heart...oh, my silly heart...races with fear.

One morning last week, I woke up from a dream in which our doorbell had been ringing (if you know our robbery story, you know the significance of a ringing doorbell; I think it is THE thing that has stuck with me the most from the robbery, as far as the sound of it triggering my fight-or-flight reaction)--at least, I thought it must have been a dream of a ringing doorbell because who would actually be ringing it so early in the morning? Jeff was in the shower, and I thought I should probably get up and make sure no one was really standing at our door...but I couldn't convince myself to get out of bed to see. It was that old childhood feeling of "if I don't move but stay hidden under the covers, surely I'll be safe!" In the end, I didn't even mention the incident to anyone because I was certain the ringing doorbell must have just been a dream.

But then, two nights ago, I was staying up late, sitting at the kitchen table, eating a pomelo, and catching up on some papers I needed to read through when, all of a sudden...you guessed it...the doorbell started ringing. I knew it wasn't a dream this time. It was doing this weird frantic ringing that sounded in my ears exactly like the time our neighbor pressed it so strangely and frantically in his panic. My heart started beating a million beats per minute, and I flew up the stairs into our bedroom calling for Jeff to come down and investigate. My beloved protector woke up in an instant and came downstairs to see what was going on, only to discover that the doorbell was malfunctioning and ringing of its own accord. No one was outside; no gunman stood on our front steps. So he disconnected the doorbell entirely, and we went to bed!

I share all of this, for one thing, because I want to be real. Not only do I want to share the joys and triumphs of my life, but also the challenges and defeats. But I also want to share the reassurance that God gives, especially a verse from Proverbs that I read recently. Fearing people is a dangerous trap, but trusting the Lord means safety. (29:25) That is a good reminder for me to cling to in the midst of fearful thoughts, early morning darkness, and malfunctioning doorbells!

*****

THE FUNNY

Our friend Katie told us recently that in her church nursery, she babysat for a little boy named Archer. She got inspired by his name, so her suggestion for us to name our little boy is...are you ready?...Archer Hunter Fisher. I'm not sure how we're going to top that one! :)

Who Doesn't Love a Bargain?

At the end of last week, I stopped by a small local fruit market to buy some freshly-made, not pasteurized, cider. For the cider purists among us, pasteurized just doesn't cut it! :)

In the market, there were a few shelves with odds and ends lying around on them. While I was waiting for the cider press to finish filling my 3 gallons, I asked the owner if the things were for sale or just for decoration. He said they were for sale but that he didn't really know how to price them or how much they were worth. When I indicated my interest in the metal bucket pictured below, he indicated that I could throw out a price and he would consider it. Well, I'm a little rusty in my bargaining ability since I haven't had to do a whole lot of that since we left Israel (and, anyway, Jeff was the bargaining pro there, not me!); but in my head I was thinking that I'd be glad to get it for $10. Before I said anything though, the man said, "How about $5?" "Sure, that sounds OK," I said!!!

I LOVE this bucket. The style with the tin look and the pressed pineapple design is completely me. I am thrilled with this find and am happy to have a place to put the homeschooling books that we are currently using. Before I got this bucket, the books used to end up either back in the homeschool closet or on the kitchen table or counter or on the living room couch or floor or really anywhere in the house! It's much nicer to have one spot for them--and to have it be a decorative spot is icing on the cake!

The Latest Reason My Mother Is Glad I Married Jeff

He cans.

That's right...this man can can. (Don't you love the English language that lets you say things like "he can can"?) :)

We had all these lovely jalapenos going to waste in our garden, so Jeff decided that enough was enough and he rescued them and proceeded to learn how to can. After one conversation with my mother about the process and minimal assistance from me, he was off and running. The results? Six quarts of home-canned jalapenos from last night...and probably five or six more tonight which he'll can while he stays home with David since Josiah and I are off to see a local production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

My mother is so proud of Jeff. When I told her on the phone last night what project Jeff was working on, her voice simply pulsed with pride through the phone lines. You could actually hear her smile.

I couldn't help but notice a couple of differences between Jeff and I last night as I watched his canning process:
1. He is a pro at "winging it," whereas I study out the exact way to do things. For example, for the solution that you pour on the jalapenos before you can them, I was ready to look in the book to see precisely how much vinegar, how much water, etc. Jeff just started pouring until it "seemed right."
2. He wanted to know HOW the canning process works, WHY the jars seal, WHY some jars need to be canned in a pressure canner and some can be canned in a hot water bath (not really a bath, for those of you unfamiliar with canning terminology...simply a big kettle of boiling water with jars in it...has nothing to do with a bathtub). I don't understand how or why it all works; I simply know it does and that's all I need to know.

Without a doubt, he is much more adventurous than I with projects like this. Can jalapenos? Sure, I can do that! Bake bread from scratch while living in Israel? No problem! Make my own tortillas? Absolutely! What a guy. And this is, of course, one of the reasons that I too am glad I married this man. :)

And, by the way, Jeff isn't the only man in this neck of the woods who has canning experience. My own dear dad has been known to can tomatoes when his "women folk" were out of town. Just like Jeff couldn't stand to see the jalapenos going to waste, so too my dad couldn't bear to waste good tomatoes...so on went his apron and into the canner went the tomatoes!

Another "by the way"...Blogger is obviously run by city folk and not country bumpkins because Blogger's spellcheck didn't even recognize the word "canner"! :)

Hallelujah Party

What to do with Halloween???

The origins of this holiday are not great...although that could realistically be said for almost every major holiday we celebrate. Jeff's family, during his growing-up years, celebrated Halloween in traditional American ways; my family did not, substituting harvest parties and dressing up like Bible characters for trick-or-treating and scary costumes. We have people that we love and respect in our life that do celebrate Halloween, as well as people that we love and respect equally well that do not celebrate it. So, how to deal with it?

Fortunately, our new church had a Hallelujah Party last night that was a whole bunch of fun without having any of the darker aspects of Halloween celebration. The boys got to dress up...there were various activities, including hayrides...at the end of the night, they each got a bag of candy...the adults enjoyed seeing friends and talking outside the context of a Sunday morning service...so all in all, it was a great evening: all the best aspects of a holiday without the dark side!

~ Jeff and the boys on the hayride (which I decided not to go on because I didn't think I could climb on and off the wagon gracefully at all) :)
~ David with our friend Holly...I'm so grateful for the friendliness of the older kids in the church to my boys; it's so nice to have someone like Holly say, "Here, David, let me hold you" or "Want to go through the maze with me?"
~ cutest little pumpkin and most handsome little cowboy I've EVER seen! :)

Lessons in Generosity

One of the traditions we seem to be developing as a family is packing shoeboxes for Samaritan Purse's Christmas outreach every year. The boys and I had fun yesterday going to buy the gifts, and this morning our project was actually packing the boxes. It's been really interesting to see how Josiah and David respond to this. David, of course, is still at the stage of "I see a toy and I want it and I have no concept of children in other countries having far less than I do." But Josiah is "getting it."

One thing we did a few days ago in preparation for this was read the book Miracle in a Shoebox by Franklin Graham. It is one of those books that I can't get through without crying--absolutely cannot do it. I almost didn't want to read the book this time because I knew what was coming--I even know what page is going to make me cry--but I also know that it is a vitally important lesson for my children to learn how blessed we are and how crucial it is for us to do our part to help, though it may seem small. Anyway, while we were reading it, I indeed started crying...turned the page and had no voice to continue reading...Josiah looked at me curiously to figure out why the delay...he saw I was crying and wanted to know if it was happy crying or sad crying...then he helpfully offered to go get a tissue for me, which I gratefully accepted. Finally I choked my way through the rest of the story, then had Josiah take the book over to our neighbors who are also packing shoeboxes for this project. I'm eager to ask Wilma whether she's read the book to her girls and, if so, did she make it through without crying??? :)

~ my good helpers -- I'm proud of them!

View from Our Guest Room

As I carried clean laundry upstairs to fold on our guest room bed (my favorite laundry folding spot), I was struck by this scene. Outside the window is a wonderful maple tree that my parents planted there years ago; and in the fall, the leaves turn a delightful golden color. This picture doesn't do it justice, of course; but from this window, I felt like I was in a delightful treehouse, surrounded by the warmth and glow of golden fall. Such a pleasant, cozy feeling!

Verse of the Day

A verse I discovered today during my morning "snuggle time with God"--in a rocking chair, watching the fire in the woodstove, in the quiet and peace of a still-sleeping house:

Psalm 116:1-2
I love the Lord because he hears my voice and my prayer for mercy. Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath!

This image of God bending down to listen was so vivid to me because that's exactly what I do as a mother! How many times have I bent down to get on the same level with my children or to hear their quiet voices! Granted, my boys usually speak in loud voices :) -- but when they're feeling timid, afraid, hesitant, sad, emotional, etc. or when they just want to tell me a secret, they speak softly; and I literally have to bend over to hear them. And for sure, whenever we're having a very important conversation, I always try to get on their level so we can look each other in the eye and connect more intimately.

And to think that this is what God does for us!

Week 28

There is not a whole lot to report this week. In this picture, I, accompanied by my faithful sidekicks who dislike being left out of pictures, am in Baby's room, a little room off our master bedroom that was designed specifically (by my parents who designed the house) to be a nursery. It's a wonderful room!

I'm glad the weather is cooler so I can wear my warmer maternity clothes. Although speaking of temperature...I am definitely at the stage of being on a different temperature scale than most others. Last Friday evening when we had people over, I asked my mom shortly before everyone arrived, "Don't you think it's hot in here?" and she said, "No, I think it's a little cool!" Then yesterday in our Sunday school class, I felt like I was having a heatstroke so I was busily fanning myself with the bulletin to keep from being overcome. Funny--no one else was doing that. I guess my little internal heater is doing his job well!

In my pregnancy journal for this week, the question is asked about what I miss most from pre-baby days. I think this week it would be my lap. I have had some gloriously fun snuggle times with the boys recently (reminding me of the quote from Nancy Thayer, "Who is getting more pleasure from this rocking, the baby or me?")--for example, this morning when I was reading my Bible in one of our rocking chairs and watching the fire in our woodstove, Josiah came down and wanted to sit on my lap with Daddy's new blanket from Grandma Fisher around us. We did that; but oh, it wasn't nearly as comfortable as it used to be before I had such a big belly! The boys never complain about it; but when they're trying to snuggle with me or sit on my lap, I find myself constantly shifting my position as if to move the baby out of the way so there's more room for my big boys!

The other thing that stands out in my mind about this week is that I'm realizing anew that I just can't do all the things I used to do! Saturday was a fairly busy day for me--just doing normal stuff though--no weight-lifting or running marathons--simply laundry, housework, etc. But by evening, I was cramping so much that I was seriously concerned about preterm labor. When night rolled around, I thought, "I have so much more that I wanted to get done today, but I just can't. I just have to go to bed, not because I'm so sleepy, but because my body needs a break." Fortunately, a good night's sleep did the trick; and I was feeling back to normal the next day. It can be a little frustrating though to look around at all the things I would like to do--like work in my front flowerbed to prepare it for spring and plant some fall pansies--and realize that I just can't do it all.

I console myself with another quote: this one is by Maria Riva. "I never feel so good as when I'm pregnant. It's the only time a woman can sit still, do nothing at all, and be beautifully productive." :)