Happy Birthday, Brooklyn!

 

Happy Third Birthday, sweet girl!

Thanks for surprising us three years ago.

We can't wait to see what surprises your future has in store!

And we just couldn't love you any more than we already do.

Things about the Third.

Alas, I have survived almost a trimester.  I wish that was actually one-third of pregnancy but as it goes, it really isn't.  And pregnancy is a little more than nine months.  Apparently someone wasn't very good at math.  But I digress.

Here are some things I have learned about carrying a third little.
1.  Morning sickness might get worse with each child.  At least, mine does.  So I will very shortly be signing my husband up for a procedure because quite frankly... I cannot do this a fourth time with more barfing.
2.  Your tummy "pops" pretty instantly.  I remember with the first one thinking that oh, when will I get the baby pop...won't that be great?!  and being disappointed when nobody knew I was pregnant until nearly the halfway point.  Not so with the third child.  You find out you are expecting, and hello, there it is.
3.  You shouldn't jump on trampolines.  Or sneeze.  Or throw up with a full bladder.  Just trust me.
4.  TV shows, books, movies, holidays, and random events make you cry thanks to your raging hormones.
5.  All that "rest while you can" crap is so out the window when you have two little ones running around.  You might fall asleep anytime you sit still and wake up to find crayon on the wall.  Hypothetically. 
6.  You do not want to change diapers while pregnant. 
7.  Your patience for kids getting up in the middle of the night is diminished exponentially.  You find yourself thinking... If you do not get back in bed, I will die.  Go to sleep.  NOW.
8.  You forget trying to cook through the sickness and order a lot of pizza. 
9.  You have to try to figure out how to answer the question, "So mom, how will the baby get out of there?"
10.  No matter how many times you've already experienced it, there's something magical about hearing a little tiny heartbeat.

Now, come on September.

Not Me.

Not me.

My child did not swipe a pink sharpie from her sister the night before her surgery.  She didn't then take the sharpie and color her face.  Her nose, specifically. 

Less than 12 hours before having surgery on said nose.

Not me!

Oops, I Did It Again.

 I got a little behind on blogging.  There's been some happenings in this house.

Or outside of this house.  On the ground.  Like 7 inches of snow.

The girls enjoyed it, even though it had been 70 degrees two days before that.

We had bigger news going on that they didn't know about.

And we didn't know about until... Mommy started puking.  Daily.

Surprise!

Savannah claims that she is having a baby brother, that his name will be Hokie, and that she will now clean the house for me every day and I can just rest because having a baby in your belly is probably worse than having to poop.  She periodically walks up to me, pats me on the back, and says, I'm so sorry you are sick.  Hopefully she'll stay that sweet all her life.

 Brooklyn continues to be our little trooper.  She's had a PICC line in for three weeks now and has done very well with it.  The first dressing change was awful, but we've come a long way now and today all she said was, "hey! ow!"  She leaves it alone and fortunately it has functioned wonderfully with no clots.

 

 Some people have wondered what exactly a PICC line is.  So here you go.  It is a catheter that goes into your upper arm and goes through into your chest.  Brooklyn's antibiotics "juice" just take 30 minutes per day and the rest of the day she tucks it into a newborn legwarmer, which she calls her "sleeve".  And that's that.

She'll have surgery next month to remove the remainder of her infections.

And that is what's been going on in our house!

Gun Problem or Love Problem?

For the past few days, the nation has been reeling from the tragedy in Newtown.

Those faces... those names... play over and over in my mind.

I find myself weeping when I think of the lonely holiday ahead for their families.

And hugging my little ones just a tad bit tighter.

When I drove my girls to school this morning and got out, there were sheriff's deputies in the hallways.  They walked up and down, looking in the classrooms where the littlest scholars sat at their desks.  Parents shared nervous half-smiles as they passed on the sidewalks, and a few moms wiped tears discreetly on their way out the door.  As I was walking to my car, I looked up at the flag flying half-mast, a visual reminder of the horror that took place last Friday morning.

What a scary world we live in.  I'm so glad it is not my home.

I sat Savannah down over the weekend to discuss the tragedy with her.  I explained what had happened in a brief factual manner.  I wanted to be certain that she didn't hear the news from another child on the bus.  I also wanted her to know that I would be honest with her, and she can trust me.  After I explained, she then had the opportunity to ask questions.  Her first question was the same as mine.

"Why would someone hurt little children?"

In some ways, I wish I knew the answer.  In other ways, I hope I never understand.

I've heard much debate about where God was in this situation.  How could a loving God sit back and allow 20 young children to be viciously murdered?  What kind of God is that?  You know, the thing about God is that He isn't a babysitter.  He isn't responsible to sit back and prevent bad things from happening.  That would be nice, of course.  But that isn't how things work.  I believe that God allows free choice.  He doesn't create robots to do His bidding.  And sometimes we as humans make very poor choices.  At that point, I don't believe it is God's job to step in and prevent us from making those decisions.  He allows us to suffer the consequences.  And in giving us free choice, sometimes others get hurt.  Sometimes tragedy occurs.

Savannah then suggested, "Mom, if the man was mad, why didn't he just talk to someone?"

She raised a very good point.  And one that I think is important to address.

Have you ever known someone with mental health issues?

They are typically shunned.  Even more so than those with physical issues.  They are isolated from society... because we do not understand them.  Their inability to function just as we do makes us uncomfortable.  So we steer clear of them, and with our cool popular normal friends we snicker about their strange behavior.  

Which is totally unfair because they are already so uncomfortable and frustrated...and then isolated as well.

Do you know how difficult it is to get medical help for those with mental health issues?

It is like trying to find a redneck who doesn't like sweet tea.

Impossible.

So we basically set up the perfect storm.  A child who is frustrated and overwhelmed with no one to talk to... and deny them most treatment... you know... because mental illness isn't "real."

Now I'm going to say something really provacative.

It really shouldn't surprise us when we have school shootings.

The answer to this issue isn't gun control.  

It isn't about blaming God for turning His back that day.

It isn't about adding metal detectors or homeschooling our kids.

I think it is a love issue.

When Christ came, he didn't come and hang out with the cool kids.

He came for the broken.  The abnormal.  The outcasts.

He came to show them love.

And those who bear the name "Christian" are supposed to be imitators of Christ.

I don't really think that means we hang out with the people who are just like us and politely back away from those who are different or uncomfortable.

I think it means we love unconditionally.  We offer the hope we have within.  

We are the listening ear... even when the ramblings make no sense.

We are the ones who say to society... hey... different is okay.

Its a love issue. 

As a parent, I want to raise a child who befriends the friendless.

But to be that parent, I have to first be that person.

I wonder... when someone like Adam Lanza decides to shoot innocent children... is that decision made in a moment?  Or is it a lifetime of isolation, frustration, and loneliness that culminates in an unforgettable tragedy?  I wonder how many Christ-followers ignored Adam?  How many made fun of him?  How many doctors refused to see the issues?  How many insurance companies denied treatment?

Mental health treatment is a multidimensional issue.  And we can't fix the problems overnight.  But here is what I can do in my own home.  I can create an environment where differences are welcome.  I can encourage my children to be friends to those who aren't friendly.  We can embrace unique qualities in others.  I can be a friend... and teach my children to listen to others.  We can pray for those our family comes into contact with.  We can try to see the world as Jesus did. 

We can start today...

...and I can think of about 20 reasons why we should.

Different Wings

Dream, child, as childhood wants to do.

Dream all this night will allow.

Dream, child.  Dream with an angel's view.

Out there safe in your clouds.

Wait for me now.  I will be there for you.

No matter what tomorrow may bring.

This I will vow.  I will be there for this child.

This child with different wings.

Dream, child.  Stars have been rumored to see dreams within newborn eyes.

And in their arms I believe they do keep safe until you arise.

Wait for me now.

I will be there for you.

No matter what tomorrow may bring.

This I will vow.

I will be there for this child with different wings.

Thank you to Floyd Ward School of Dance, Carie, Tara, and friends for another great season of dance for the Angels from Heaven!  Brookie loves being a ballerina!

Overheard at My House...

I have this hilarious kid.  She cracks. me. up. 

So I thought I'd share the laughter with you.  Because if your week was anything like mine, you need a little laughter. Or coffee.  Or laughter AND coffee.  Stat!

Overheard at my house...

"Mom, roll down the window.  I need to toot!"  

Me:  "Savannah, do you toot at school?"

Savannah:  "Well of course.  But nobody knows its me because when I toot, I just look around and say Who tooted?!  and they never know."  

"Sometimes when I don't see a relative for a long time, I think they died." 

Savannah:  "Mom, when you have another baby, it can sit in the middle."

Me:  "Who says I'm having another baby?  Do I need another one?"

Savannah:  "Only if you want one.  Duh."

Savannah:  "Mom!  Tell Santa that I need a gun for Christmas."

Me:  "Why do you need a gun?"

Savannah:  "To hunt.  And to scare off boys.  That's what my dad says they are for.  And if I don't get one, our yard might be full of deers and bears and boys."