These Moments Don't last

A new mommy and a new Daddy looked down on their very new baby.
He was bundled snugly in his warm blankie and tucked safely in his crib for the first time.
The new mommy and daddy marveled at the tiny person that God had entrusted to their care, and they prayed that they would be the best parents they could be. They wondered about their new baby's future and prayed for his safety. They imagined great things for him as he grew big and strong, but for this moment, they stared in awe at how tiny and precious he was. The mommy picked him up and very slowly swayed him back and forth and back and forth, and she whispered to him,
"Take your time growing, baby. Don't grow up too fast. Time moves so quickly and these moments don't last."

That tiny baby grew. He grew and he grew and he grew, until he was two years old. He ran really fast, he lifted heavy things, like his daddy, and he ate everything in the kitchen. He also became a big brother, and was most excited to be a good helper. His mommy and daddy would try to hide their smiles as that little two year-old tried to do big and strong things and have clever little ideas, and they would swoop him up and tell him what a big boy he was! Then the mommy would cuddle him close and tell him with a smile,
 "Take your time growing, baby. Don't grow up too fast. Time moves so quickly and these moments don't last."

That two year-old boy grew. He grew and he grew until he was five years old. He loved puzzles and solving problems. He ran after his brother and carried around his baby sister. He was shy when he met new friends, and loved his good friends with all his little heart. After graduating from pre-school, it came time for this big little boy to start kindergarten. The night before his first day of school, he packed up his backpack, laid out his first-day-of-school outfit, and then said a special prayer with his mommy and daddy before going to bed.
As his mommy kissed him good-night, she marveled at how big he was, and how smart he was, and how blessed she was to be his mommy. As she turned out the light, she quietly whispered,
 "Take your time growing, baby. Don't grow up too fast. Time moves so quickly and these moments don't last."

Seriously,...

I'm going to try to keep this certain post short.
I've said that before and failed miserably. This time, I aim to stay true to my intentions. In part because I have a short window of guiltless sit down time before naptime is over (during which I should probably shower. I can smell my hair...), but mainly because of the fact that, if I let my emotions take over and run with this topic, I'll be here all day. Then I'll cry and get angry and feel guilty and cry some more... it wouldn't be pretty.
                    SO:
Abortion.

Everyone is talking about it recently, and for obvious reasons. With the videos being leaked of what is happening in the clinics that provide these procedures, it has become impossible to turn a blind eye to this heavy topic, unless you are obstinately refusing to see the issue and, therefore, weigh in with your opinion.
  Here's my opinion:

This is my youngest baby, Belle, at 18 weeks in utero.
Had I been so inclined, I could have legally terminated my pregnancy at this time, even up to two weeks after, in some states.

This is Belle a couple of weeks ago at a friend's fifth birthday party. She really enjoyed that cookie cake. She's a sass. She loves dogs and gives any dog she meets kisses. She does not take kindly to being told what to do, which means that she and I will have a long road of tough times ahead of us when it comes to obedience and training of any kind. Belle loves to dance and loves her daddy more than me. (That last one stings a little bit, but I'm okay with it, 'cause I know what it's like to adore your daddy. It's a good thing, trust me!)
Belle's sharp little mind is growing and learning new things every day. I see so much beauty and potential when I look at my baby girl. She is perfect! She is a blessing! She is everything she was when they took that sonogram picture of her in my belly over a year ago. All of her beauty and potential began the moment part of her daddy and part of me came together to form an entirely unique individual, who happens to look like me and share her father's temper. All of that could have been snuffed out and lost entirely, had I chosen to do so.
  The truth is, I never had a choice. We wanted a baby. God blessed us with another pregnancy. I recognized it for what it is: my body miraculously and amazingly creating, carrying, and nurturing a whole new life inside of me! I used to wonder what she would look like, what she would act like, and what God had in store for her in the future. I still do. Each baby born has the potential to do amazing things!
  If they get to live.

Now's the part where I try not to get emotional.

I have heard the arguments for abortion. Some are so ludicrous, weak, or downright terrible that I dont even care to address them right now, 'cause I'll get mad.
Some, however, are reasons that show real concern, or are veiled to look like just reasons to chose to end a life.  Reasons like: rape, incest, hopeless mothers in war-torn countries, starving mothers in abject poverty, or an extremely high-risk pregnancy that will cost the mother her own life.
  To these, I say; let's talk. I'll discuss this with you. I'm pro-life, so I would vote for whatever means, method or procedure that would save as many lives as possible. A mother's life is just as much a life as the baby's and vice verse, so I realize the need for compassion, understanding, and help in these extreme cases.
  But, precious readers, that's just what they are: extreme cases.
  In the United States, at least, the main reasons for abortion are for convenience's sake. The unwanted responsibility. Not wanting to be a single parent. Not ready to be a parent. Can't afford a baby right now. Already had all the children they want. Or this reason, my least favorite: concern that having a baby would change their current lifestyle. According to pretty much any honest study done on reasons for abortions in America, and specifically the one I'm citing *HERE* , The percentages of abortions performed for reasons concerning the mother or baby's physical, mental, or emotional health aren't even above 5%.
  That means that at least 95% of abortions fall into the realm of convenience. A (new) person had to die for the sake of another person(s)'s (the parent(s)) ability to live their life the way they want to. Doesn't that kinda sound like murder? Isn't that definitely murder? In which of those situations is adoption not a loving, life-giving option? (I will save my entirely favorable opinion on adoption for another post. This one is already far longer than I planned on it being.)
  In summation, dear readers, my opinion is this: Adoption, not abortion. Abortion is the ending of an innocent life. It is sick, evil, and selfish. It is killing. It is murder. These words sound harsh, but so is murder, so I'm not sorry to use them.
  To women who have been there, who have done that, I'm sorry you felt like you had to sacrifice your child's life for any reason. I'm sorry if your situation in life was so dire that you thought you had no other option. Please believe me when I say that abortion is not an unforgivable sin, and that there is forgiveness, redemption, and restoration offered to all who fall short of God's high standard. I need that just as much as you.
  To any women who are contemplating abortion: please think about what you are doing! For the sake of the life inside of you that (for at least 24 weeks) is entirely dependent on you to survive, please don't do it. Seek alternative measures! Look into adoption! If I know you personally, I will take your baby for you and love it like crazy, and I'm not even joking. This is a new life we're discussing here! A beating heart, a thinking mind, kicking legs, ticklish feet, grasping hands, blinking eyes, and a yawning mouth. For this new person's life's sake, chose life!  
To my fellow Christians: please consider adoption. there are so many parent-less children out there that need homes. If God has given you the means to care for kids, prayerfully consider adding to your family through adoption. Stephan and I have plans to become a foster family with the intention to adopt, if that is God's will for us. Consider doing the same, Christian family, if you are able. The need is great, but our God is greater, and He uses us, His body, to work out His will on earth.
    Life is precious.

Matthew 19:14
  Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

VBS: Very Busy Schedule

I grew up in a non-denominational church. This church was like a second family to me. Everybody knew everybody. We weren't a small church, per say, we just started out small. For most of my young, formative years, my church hosted Vacation Bible School every summer. It seemed like the entire church took part. From my experience with volunteering at my current church's VBS this year, I'm starting to suspect that volunteering was mandatory for the congregation and all who abstained from assisting in some way was excommunicated or something, because everyone played some part in making it happen. All that to say; the VBS that my old church put on was the bomb.
  I can remember very little from my childhood, due to a crummy memory that I've mentioned before (I think...), but I can clearly recall, with fond memories, many aspects and details of this week-long summer "school" that were crazy-awesome, especially for small children. The theme for many, many years was something along the lines of the 12 tribes of Isreal and life in Jerusalem at the time of Christ. I'm not sure if this theme was concocted entirely by the elders/deacons/pastoral staff, or if, like all Vacation Bible Schools offered nowadays, the theme was selected from some catalog that many other churches ordered from, but I again suspect that it was the former, because I haven't seen another church do anything similar to it.
  The effort, detail, and time put in to making this week-long event happen must have been phenomenal! I remember so clearly feeling like I had traveled back in time when I entered my room at VBS, because each individual room was decorated to look like a Middle Eastern nomad's tent or Jewish home. Each class a tribe, and each group leader went all-out when decorating! Sheets covered the walls, rugs covered the floors, cushions were set around for sitting on, and there was a menorah and mezuzah put in the proper place in each room and used in the proper way to teach children how the Jewish people lived when Jesus was alive. Not only that, but everyone dressed to part, too. Women and men wore long tunics and robes with appropriate head coverings, and little tunics were handed out to each kids attending. We were all given our own little leather money pouches with a set number of pennies in them for us to "spend" or give to the poor at our discretion. Once we were out of pennies, we were out.
   Where did we spend our pennies, you ask? In the marketplace. Our sanctuary would be turned into a noisy, busy bazaar. Stalls lined the walls with crafts to make and wares to buy. And when I say "crafts", I don't mean making a sun out of paper plates, glitter and glue. I mean leather working, candle making, even paper making! I could spend a penny to make a belt, then go next door and watch a potter at his wheel make urns and pitchers and bowls, then I could drop a penny or two to make a couple of functional candles. You had to be careful not to trip over the crippled beggar that would beg for any pennies you could spare. Good, kind children would give the beggar some pennies. You also had to watch out for the wicked tax collector. He would make rounds in the marketplace, dressed in the fanciest robes, demanding your taxes and snatching pennies from careless kids. Once or twice, I even saw the tax collector steal the poor, crippled beggar's stash of pennies! I felt real outrage! Especially that time me dad was the beggar. Oooo, that tax collector had sinned the greatest sin by stealing my poor, crippled daddy's meager begging wages! Yeah, that marketplace was awesome.
  I recall these fun memories now because I have just completed my first night working at my church's VBS. The theme is Climbing Mt. Everest. My church is all decked-out to look like a snow-covered base camp at the foot of Mt. Everest. The classroom that my friend and I are teaching in has a tent and some trees and sleeping bags and lanterns and snowflakes in it. The curriculum we're following is fun, simple, and full of Biblical truths. Many members of the congregation have dedicated a lot of time, effort, and energy in making this VBS a reality, including myself. Here I am, after one evening of co-leading the pre-school class, and I am exhausted!
    I don't want to compare the nostalgic memories of my childhood with the responsibility of this present VBS week, but just thinking about the work that must have been put into setting up, running, tearing down, and cleaning up Jesus' Jerusalem must have been ridiculous! I can only hope and pray that the kids who are attending Sylvania's Mt. Everest VBS will hang onto the memory of the fun they had and the truths they learned with us for years to come. Also, thanks, Bethel Bible Church, for hosting some pretty crazy-awesome Vacation Bible Schools back in the day.
   
  
            

Well, there goes half a year...

It has been six months since my last post.
How on earth does that happen?
A friend of mine shared a quote with me that may be entirely too accurate in describing this strange phenomenon: when parenting, the days last forever, but the years fly by. I believe that is true for life in general.
   In high school, I wished the time away, because it was high school. I lamented the time-suck that was organized education, and the laughably light load of responsibility my part time job(s) put on me. Yet, at the same time, I was having the time of my life. My friends were a tight-knit group of awesome, surprisingly well-behaved (comparatively speaking), kind and supportive kids, and we had lots of care-free fun. I loved being the star and soul of the softball team (my old teammates may disagree as to whether that was my actual role, but deep in their hearts, they know it was true...) I loved singing in the choir, I loved working on the newspaper staff, and I loved the lazy summer days spent at the lake. We got some impressive sunburns there.
  Now, as I look back, those are some sweet "good old days". I thought they would never end, at the time, and yet they went by so fast.
    Stephan proposed to me 6 months into our relationship. We set the date for 6 months later. Those were the longest 6 months of my young life. The planning, the preparations, the tantalizing waiting! I had a countdown going until the big day. My future husband had a countdown going for the start of Cowboys' football. I still married him. In that time of excitement and anxiety and an impressive show of self control, it felt like that special May 12th was years and years away.
  Boy, that day flew by so fast. That was 8 years ago.   
 When I was enduring my stunted stay in the frustrating quagmire that was my college experience, I would sit in a class, staring at the wall, daydreaming of my handsome boyfriend-who-quickly-turned-fiancee-and-then-husband, and think to myself, "Woah, I found the place were time stands still." Everything about collage was annoying to me. I didn't want to be there. I was doing what I had to do because that's what everyone said everyone has to do. The instant I got pregnant and uncomfortable enough to convince Stephan that college was unnecessary for my chosen vocation of home management, I tossed up the deuces to the University of Texas in Tyler and settled in to the life of a stay at home wife and mother.
   I thought my time there would never end. It passed by so quickly. Good riddance, college.
  As I sat on the couch in my quaint, quiet house, my very  new baby nestled on my propped up thighs, I counted his toes and waved his arms and tried my best to get any reaction out of him as he tried his best to go back to sleep. (Baby Wise says it's wake-time right now, kid. Sorry.) I was barely three weeks into my first go as a mother. My newborn son was everything I had dreamed about and prayed for for a long time. I loved him so much! He was perfect! He was healthy and adorable and looked like his daddy. I was living the life that I had always wanted! And I was beating myself up with guilt because I was bored. Noah's days were unending cycles of eat, stare at lights, poo-poo-tee-tee, sleep, repeat. And I was only really needed for the eat/poo-poo-tee-tee part. I tried my best to enjoy every moment, because everybody and their mom (especially their mom) tells you to, but often I found myself willing my baby boy to hurry and reach that next big milestone! I thought those days were going to last forever. Now, I have a five year-old who is going to start Kindergarten this fall.
  Foolish, stupid me, did you really try your hardest to enjoy every moment? Because I can hardly remember that first year, and that makes me far sadder than I like to think about.  
   A few weeks back, Stephan and I were wrapping up a Netflix binge-session with The Office, and something that was said in the finale by the character Andy Bernard really struck me. It was said with the intention of being poignant, yet humorous, a feat few sitcoms on tv can successfully achieve. The Nard-Dog said, after summing up his time at Dunder Mifflin Paper Co., "I wish we could know we were in the 'good old times' before they became the 'good old times'."
  Amen and amen, Nard-Dog.
 After the flash in the pan that was Naoh's infancy, I pledged to do a better job of soaking in every moment with my future children. I can clearly recall the feeling of self-satisfaction I had once when Witten was a small baby. I thought that I was doing it! I was stamping those moments so permanently in my brain that even my goldfish-level memory wouldn't forget what it was like when I was loving on my little baby. Of course, that's the only clear memory of Witten's baby-hood that I can recall.
  So what can I do?
Praise God for the invention of the photograph. Thank goodness I was bored enough to try my hand at blogging that one night 6 years ago. And please, Lord, help me, now and always, to truly, truly relish and live in these fleeting moment. These boys often drive me nuts, and I experience far more parenting fails than I'd like to admit, but I don't want my life to be hurried living, ended by wistful remembering. Be with me in every one of these moments, Lord, so that I can live a life that brings you glory.
   And, as always, please save my children.     

Aren't they precious?

Be safe

When Noah was not even 6 months old yet, his Bebe came to pick him up for an afternoon at his grandparents' house. It was just a few hours of playing with his loving Papa and doting Bebe, and they were going to stay in their house and travel no where else with him, so I felt completely confident my baby boy would be perfectly safe. It was even going to give me a chance to catch up on house work and maybe take a nap. I was ready for this!
  Still, as I handed my mother Noah's diaper bag and then the boy himself, I felt this strange, faint, yet very real sensation in my chest. As corny as it sounds, I felt a tug. A tug in my chest. I watched my mom walk away, and my baby watched me over his Bebe's shoulder. The tugging became undeniable. Then,when my baby disappeared into the back seat of my mom's car, the tug turned into an all-out pull, and I started to cry.
   I pulled myself together by reminding myself that this was my loving mother and not a basket in the Nile river taking my baby away. Also, silly, emotional woman, you'll be picking the kid up in, like, three hours, so stop it! And I did get Noah back, and he was completely fine, and my parents were very happy to have spent an entire evening with their only grandchild. It was a happy and good event. So why the tug?
   Four years ran by way to fast.
Noah wanted to play with his sweet friends Anne and Abby, who live a quick walk down the street from our house. Anne and Abby run over to our house often to play with both my boys, and I have dropped Noah and Witten off at their house several times. Today, however, Witten was napping, so I suggested he go play at the girls' house. He eagerly agreed.
   Stephan was at the gym, Witten asleep in his bed, and I was soon to put Belle down for a nap, too, so I knew me dropping Noah off was out of the question. An idea struck me. Grabbing up my phone, I shot a quick text at Karen, the kind and patient and lovely mother (and fellow blogger) of Noah's friends. Could she maybe send one of her girls to escort Noah to their own house? My answer was a chorus of knocks on our front door an impressively short time later. Anne and Abby skipped through our house and out the garage, where Noah was waiting for them.
     I helped him shrug on his jacket and then sent him off with the girls, then I stood in the doorway of the garage and watched him go. I don't think it was my mind making up stuff when I saw Noah proceed with great trepidation at first. He stood for a while in our driveway, watching the sisters dance around and tell him exciting things about what they'd heard from school or what they were going to do at home. Then, as the girls marched off, taking the short cut through the neighbor's yard, he pulled up the hood to his jacket and got to steppin' after them. By the time they moved out of my sight, Noah was jogging right along with the girls, clearly excited to play.He didn't look back once.
   Again, I knew the place Noah was headed to. I knew the girls and their parents and even their grandparents would be right there, should help be needed. I could even hear their happy playing from my front yard, even if I couldn't see them. Sure, there were a few more risks involved, what with the residential road that separated our neighbor's house from the girls' grandparents' house where they were headed, but I could proceed with confidence, knowing my boy was safe. Yet once again, I felt that tug. And once again, it got harder the farther Noah moved from me.
     I prayed, as I did on that day four years ago, that God would keep my first baby safe. I prayed it as if Noah was headed off to a week long camp an hour away from me. That kid is so disastrously tangled up in my heart strings that he cant leave my side without me feeling it in my chest. It's the same with his brother and sister, too. That over used saying about your children being your heart walking around outside your body is startlingly true. I love these three kids God gave me so much it physically hurts, sometimes, but in a good kind of way.
    I'm glad to see Noah expanding his horizons and testing his limits. I want him to be brave and independent. I love the idea of him and his siblings running over to their friends' houses to spend the day playing outside and using their imaginations. But seeing my big boy, my first baby, walk away like he did today, well, it made me all emotional and inspired, so I wrote a blog post about it.
   The End.

my little, bald-headed baby

Where'd this kid come from?

Du Toit Vacation 2014

The Du Toits went a-travelin', and it was good.
After over two years of working his tail-end off, Stephan decided to venture in a new direction, vocation-wise, and sold the Stand. For weeks before this took place, the man promised, repeatedly, that, as soon as the transaction was completed, we were going to pack up and take off. I was excited, to say the least. This would be our first vacation in over a year, and our first vacation as a family of five.
  The plan: load up the mini van and drive across half the continental United States to the east coast. (I would include pictures of our road trip travels, but I used my old camera instead of my phone, thanks to the camera on my phone having terrible photo quality, and now I can't find my connector cable or any other means of transferring the pictures I took from my camera to my computer. They may be trapped there forever! And there are some beautiful pictures from the aquarium on that stinkin' camera!!)
  Anyways,
The plan included 3 phases. Phase 1: Hit up Atlanta, Georgia, to visit the Robersons. Our dear friends, the Robersons, recently moved from Texas to Georgia. Since we know two other points/peoples of interest we wanted to visit in the area, we decided to make Georgia the focal point of our expedition.
   The drive there was not too bad. The boys were happily distracted with a constant stream of movies, and Belle did as well as could be expected of a 4 month-old confined in a car seat for extended periods of time. We stopped every 3-3 1/2 hours to take potty breaks and so I could feed the baby. I will say this; this road trip made me long for the days of old, when you could take out the back seat of your van or suburban and make a pallet to lay on while you watched movies or snacked or wrestled with your dad, who was taking a break from driving for a while and thereby giving your mom the chance to take a break from quilting to drive for a bit. *Sigh* good times.
   Anyways,
Crisi and I collaborated and decided to surprise Madi. Madi still swears that, one day, she and Noah will be wed, so she has been missing her guy a lot. When we arrived, Crisi had Madi open the door, after I nudged Noah forward so as to be waiting for her on the doormat. Madi's reaction was adorable! I think she may have cried a little bit. And from then until we left her house, Madi was always at Noah's side, whether he liked it or not.

Madi's on cloud nine. Noah could care less. Such a boy.

Noah actually did enjoy her attention, he just didn't want to admit it.

While visiting with John and Crisi, we not only got to experience Atlanta traffic, but we visited the largest aquarium in the world. It. was. AWESOME.

The animals housed in the aquarium we visited ranged form tiny, floating jelly fish, to massive, awe-inspiring whale sharks. (Yes, SharkS, as in four of the things!) There were so many sights to see and displays to gawk at and even a dolphin show that made me tear up a little bit.  The kids loved it! I would love to go back someday.
  Immediately after the aquarium, we headed to the Coca Cola museum that was right next door. We weren't there for long, as it was not all that entertaining for small children, especially children who were missing their naps. We did get to check out this nifty room where coca cola brand flavors from all around the world were available for sampling. Stephan found a South African brand he vaguely remembered called Bibo. It was okay, I guess. Then we tried this brand of drink from Italy called Beverly. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever intentionally ingested. Seriously. If you ever go to the Coca Cola museum in Atlanta, Georgia, keep an eye out for Beverly.
  We spent three days enjoying our dear friends' company.

Witten loved on Annabeth so sweetly!

Then, it was time to move along. We drove 6-ish hours to North Carolina to visit a friend of Stephan's from high school. We spent the weekend with them, during which time we watched The Guardians of the Galaxy. (It's currently my favorite movie) That was Phase 2.
  Phase 3: Visit cousin Cody and cousin-in-law Mary Beth in Pooler, Georgia. Never heard of Pooler, Georgia, you say? Verily, neither had I. But Pooler, Georgia is half an hour away from Savannah, Georgia, which, dear readers, is my new favorite place in America.
    I don't know if you know this about me, dear readers, but I'm a bit of a history buff. I love history. I don't know why, but all through school and into college I hated math and science with a passion and loved learning about the history of not just the United States, but ze VERLD! I tell you this to explain why I enjoyed Savannah so much: It was stuffed full of history!

This little pretend boat was planted on the river walk, surrounded by the original cobblestone street that was built in the late 1700's. I was literally walking on history.

  My cousin, Cody, was quite the tour guide. He lead us on a walk all through historic downtown Savannah and handed out cool facts and tidbits of information here and there for our enjoyment. I tell you, friends, if we had left our kids at home and I had worn more comfortable walking shoes, I could have explored that city all day!
  We lunched in a place called The Pirates' House. This building was, by far, the coolest place I have even been in in my LIFE! It was an authentic tavern from the 1750's that had been refurbished to be a restaurant, but I tell ya, readers, the air was thick with weighty history and the floors creaked with the footsteps of former occupants from centuries past. Sailors were shanghaied from that place! The stuff you read about in history books and nautical novels took place in a deep, dark, now-blocked-off-but-still-creepy tunnel not even six feet from where I sat to eat a super-tasty meal from the buffet! Seriously, I can't talk up enough the wow-factor a place like that had for a history nerd like me. If you want to read more about The Pirates' House, you can easily google it or click *HERE*. 
   Besides The Pirates' House, we toured Fort Pulaski (again, steeped in history and super awesome),

This is my happy face, mid-blink. I looked like this a lot in Savannah.

 ate at a tasty burger joint,

It was such a simple concept for a dining experience, and so, very tasty.

  Visited the beach (a place I have never been to during winter months),

Pier. Neat.

Empty beach. Cool.

Stephan had to pick up Witten, 'cause he kept flopping into the sand. Noah took over the flopping.

The boys loved it!

And lastly, we enjoyed some super tasty ice cream at an ice cream parlor that's been around since 1919 called Leopold's.

Seriously, it was abnormally tasty ice cream.

In between all the fun outings, I got to reconnect with my cousin and really get to know one of the newer members of my swiftly expanding family. All-in-all, phase 3 was a raving success.
   For the trip home, Stephan and I decided not to break the drive into two shorter trips by stopping halfway, as we did on the way there. Though the vacation had been loads of fun and time off well spent, we were homesick, and we just wanted the drive to be over. Friends, it was a long       stinking          drive         home. 16 hours, if I do recall correctly. As we neared familiar territory, we swore, once again, that we would never drive anywhere ever again, if we could help it.
    As I think back on the whole experience, I sigh with contentment. That was a good vacation.
But boy, am I glad to be home.

  A few notable things that has happened within my family during and since the vacation:
During the trip, Belle started to roll front-to-back consistently. She won't stay on her tummy now that she can help it. And today, she started trying in earnest to roll to her tummy from her back. She's also getting really close to sitting up on her own, and she can now take snacks like yogurt melts and those puff things that Stephan likes to eat.
 Also big news- Witten decided that he was potty trained yesterday and wore big boy underwear all day without any accidents at all. I type this with trepidation, as events such as these have a tendency of reverting as soon as I brag about them to the internet or even in person. But if this is the real deal and Witten is done with potty training, I just might go on another vacation to celebrate!

So now we are back to normal life. As I have mention in the above paragraphs, I am so glad to be home in my own bed. Stephan and I did discover, however, that the source of much of our sleep issues and back aches and general body pains is our bed. Every bed we slept on during our trip, event an air mattress, left us feeling rejuvenated and sound of body when we awoke, unlike our own mattress. Therefore, for Christmas, Stephan and I are getting each other the best mattress we can find/afford. I am excited!    
 
Oh my gosh! Christmas is next week! We have to shop so badly!

I hope your Christmas is a blessed one, dear readers!

What a Mess!

My house is a mess.
There's clutter in every room of this building. The mirror in the master bathroom is so flecked with toothpaste spittle on the husband's side that it's obstructing my reflection. The boys' room smells mildly weird and I can't find the source. Of course, there's always laundry to rotate and dishes to round up from throughout the house and gather in the sink, where they will wait patiently for me to get around to loading them in the dishwasher. I haven't thoroughly dusted in far too long and my kitchen floors need to be actually mopped something horrible!
  And yet, I can't be annoyed or perturbed. Instead of a mess, I see the adorably proud smile on my Squish's face as he carefully sets the half-full cup of water he got for himself from the door of the fridge onto the desk in my bedroom. I see my big Boogie Boy carefully sounding out each letter of his name and my name and his brother's and father's and sister's name as he writes them over and over on his pile of construction paper on the living room floor. He's beaming ear-to-ear because he can write words like a big boy! I see my daughter's precious face as she takes another break from eating to look up and smile a big, gummy smile at me, because she loves me. And I see my handsome, hard working husband laid out on our rumpled, unmade bed, snoozing like a champ. He deserves it. He works so hard to provide for this family; I don't mind too much when he leaves a trail of discarded shoes, socks, belt and shorts from the door to the couch upon his return home from work.
   I see the mess, and I'm honestly left overwhelmed and breathless at how blessed I am. Why? Who am I that God would look so kindly upon me? I, a sinner turned saint by the free gift of God and not at all by any effort that I put forth, have done very little to deserve such kindness from such a big God. Oh, it makes me thank God, and praise Him, and need Him all the more!
  So, yeah, my house is a mess. It's a never-ending process to keep it clean. But that process and that mess will have to wait. My kids aren't going to bring me a small stack of books and then crowd around me so I can read to them in silly voices for much longer, and I want to soak up every moment of this snugly goodness that I can.