Baby Wonderings

I got news from a friend that has shaken me to my core. She is due to have her fifth child about 5 days before I am. She, like me, has four children of the same gender. Only her family is a sea of emotional, flowing estrogen, rather than rough and scratchy testosterone.

The news? She is having a boy. A boy!!! She did it. She figured out some way to have a child of the opposite gender from what she already has. How did this happen? I am happy for her. As a matter of fact, I literally shed tears of joy for her. And then......

The terror descended. What if I have a girl? What will I do with her? Where will we keep her pink things so that they don't drip onto the boy world we have so carefully crafted? Who will do her hair? It surely won't be me! I can't even do my OWN hair!

This is where I fall back on my faith to lower my blood pressure. God won't give me more than I, with His help, can handle. So, if this little critter is a girl, I will be able to handle it. To quote my wise sage of a husband, "We can't handle it yet because we don't need to yet." Actually that was more of a paraphrase on his regular how-we-will-make-it-with-no-money-in-the-future pep talk that he gives me. Either way, he is right. When we need to do it, we will be able to.

Honestly, I am mostly just trying not to care what this little one is. I just want a healthy, alive baby. I don't know that anyone who has had a miscarriage can ever really say they care what gender they have. I just want to hold this baby in my arms. That is all I care about.

It always amazes me that I can fall so deeply in love with someone I have never seen. I don't have a clue what this little person is like. I just know that I am his or her mommy. That is enough for me. And, every so often now, I can feel a little wiggling in my belly. This baby seems to be a mover and a shaker already. This just deepens my love for the little one because now this baby is real. And, to be honest, it makes the fear of losing this sweet baby all the more acute.

Thankfully I know God is in control. Either way, it is in control of a loving God who loves me and my family very much. I have to remind myself of this OFTEN!!!

So, either way, boy or girl, we will be thrilled to hold this little one. And if it is a girl, well, um, we'll cross that fluffy, lacey, rose-colored bridge when we come to it.

Visitor from Texas

My mother will be coming to visit this Wednesday. It is rare that we get visitors up here in the great Midwest, and when we have them, we are always very excited. My boys get to show off their world to their grandparents, aunts, or whoever is visiting, and to show a little of themselves off at the same time. That is cool.

There is, however, a downside. The cleaning. Have I mentioned that I HATE housework? I am content to work on the computer, balance our books for our family, raise and educate the children, shuttle little people back and forth to the places they need to go, shop, discipline said little people, anything but cleaning. I hate it. With all of my heart.

My sister is my hero. Every time I talk to her, she is cleaning something, or folding something, or mopping something. (That one was for you, sis.) Every time she is doing these things, I feel guilty. But then I tell myself, she has some time alone every day. Maybe if I wasn't constantly surrounded by little stinky boys I would get a bunch of things done, too. There, now I have my excuse to wallow in my own filth.

I must differentiate, here. I don't mind picking up. As a matter of fact, I am a bit of a fanatic with my boys that we keep the house picked up. Clutter makes me sinful. Clutter makes me want to cuss loudly. Clutter, well, let's just say its a bad thing. So, most of the time, our house remains picked up.

(Isn't that a funny phrase? Picking up the house? What a visual that is!)

Fast forward to today, and here I am needing to clean up my pitifully dirty home. My mother will be here in 4 days, and after today, I will only have one of those days at home without being gone for school, church, etc. Eeeeeeeeeeeeek. So, what are my choices here?

Well, I can clean like a fiend today. This is a good option since sons 1 through 3 will be gone at a friend's house all day. This leaves me and the 22 month old and a freshly bought, new set of cleaning supplies for the entire day. This sounds like a good plan.

There is another option, however. I could just say, forget it!! You birthed me, woman, so accept me the way I am! Come and sit in our grungy home and just love me without conditions!!!!!!

Okay, well, that doesn't sound like such a good option. And I am already doing that with my hair, so maybe I am going to clean all day.

I know she loves me without conditions, but there is only so much my pride can stand in one visit. My hair, well, we won't even go there. That I can't change right now. But the house, I can do something about.

So, I am off to the store to pick out a birthday present for the above mentioned friend of the boys, and then I will be cleaning the day away. I know I will survive. And it is only temporary after all. Some day I will finally be able to hire a maid to come and clean for me. Of course I will be taking my monthly trip to Disney World while she is here, so we will never even notice her. Probably by then the boys will all be doctors at age 16, and jointly ridding the world of all it's most terrible diseases. Since I am their mother, they will repay my hard work by supporting me and giving me my every dream come true. And as they are receiving their Nobel Peace Prize, they will credit me, yes me, for all of their accomplishments!

Well, really, is any of this less likely than me getting a maid? A girl can dream, right?

Blogging While Baking

I must be leaving the first trimester of pregnancy, because I am cooking again. Still gagging and hating certain smells, (today it was a rotten potato at the store, and pesto in my sink) but overall able to function in the kitchen again.

So, that explains my title. I am baking. And blogging.

Have I told you about our small group? They are six families (plus ours) that get together every other Friday night to just encourage one another in our faith, laugh a lot, and eat. We also pray for each other, which for many of us has been our lifeline through hard times.

(Pausing to take out cookies.)

Okay, cookies out, more in. Now, back to my small group. These families are some of our closest friends who know just about all there is to know about us. This is a close group, and we look forward to Fridays because of it.

So what does this have to do with baking, you ask?

Well, we eat dinner and dessert together. We take turns providing aspects of the meal, what they call a "pitch in" in these here parts, what I grew up calling a potluck. Tonight, it is my turn to make dessert for the adults and snacks for the 20+ children that we all bring along with us. We will be having a breakfast dinner tonight, so what does one bring to breakfast for dessert? Why cinnamon rolls, of course.

It seems that ever time we have breakfast together, I get put on dessert duty. And oddly enough, I always bring cinnamon rolls. There are several possible reasons for this. One would be the drooling lips and watery eyes that always greet me when I walk in the room with two pans of cinnamon rolls. (This is primarily the men.) Another could be that I love them more than any other food on earth, and I look, even search, for reasons to make them.

So today I shopped and got my cinnamon roll supplies. I was set. Then my beloved hubby says, "So what are you bringing for the kids?"

Silence. Then, "Oh, shooooooooooooot!!!!!!" I totally forgot. Hence the cookies. Hopefully the little boogers will be happy with a simple oatmeal cookie, because that is all I could pull together on short notice!!!

Well, off to make cinnamon roll filling. Oh, baby. Did I mention these are heaven on a plate? Or a bowl? Or in your hand, if you are not afraid of a sticky mess? Well, if I didn't, I highly recommend you email me for the recipe for these rolls. You will NEVER be sorry.

Tonight I will meet with my great friends, eat breakfast, and dodge the men as they knock down every woman in the place to get a cinnamon roll on their plate. And then, I will sigh contentedly as I pick myself up off the floor, wiping the size 13 footprints off my face.

My work here is done.