Okay, am I obsessed?????

My oldest son, who has a knack for making comments that hit me at my most insecure spot, has done it again. He made a comment the other day, something along the lines of how I talk about recipes and food all the time. Once I nailed him down, and asked him if he has EVER heard me talk about ANYTHING but food, he admitted that his "all the time" was a little misplaced. And I truly believe that he wasn't trying to insult me. It was more along the lines of a 9 year old's observation.

Well, maybe he is right. I LOVE to cook. When a beautiful recipe comes together to make something that I would be happy to serve in a restaurant, I get immense satisfaction. I get on the phone and share it with my friends. I email my husband and tell him to start salivating now, because heaven is waiting in the fridge for him when he gets home! In short, I love cooking.

In a recent past life I was a personal chef. It took me away from my little chickens once too often, so I let it go, but it was a great thing for me. I loved sharing my food with others. It was also one of the scariest things I have ever done. Sometimes.....GASP!!!...the person didn't like something I had made! Something that I personally knew to be the yummiest creation any chef could ever lay on a plate. Something I have been getting great reviews on for years on end. I know that personal food preferences are just that. Personal. But come on!!!!! How could you not like THAT?????

So, I have been trying to not obsess about my recipes. I was doing well, until the other day. I was craving, in my pregnant body, thick soup. So, I checked my recipe file, and I found a recipe I have never made before for Cheddar Broccoli Soup. I made it, I tasted it, and I fell off the wagon. I had to call my sister. I had to tell my mother. I had to tell my husband, and when he came home late that night I had to force some down his throat even though he said he wasn't particularly hungry.

To my IMMENSE satisfaction, he sighed. He rolled his eyes back in his head a little. He said "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm." He agreed with me that in any restaurant, we would consider this the best Cheddar Broccoli soup we had ever eaten. And, to top it off, he got seconds. Now THAT is success. If the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, I've got this guy hooked forever!!

So, maybe I am obsessed. But, I also have a houseload of 5 men that really like to eat, so maybe that isn't a bad thing right now. And if this baby turns out to be a boy, which it surely will, then I will have yet another growing boy to feed. And let me tell you, these people can put away the food.

Ahhhhh, the satisfaction of feeding the troops well. The personal satisfaction of hearing my boys say, "Momma, you should open a restaurant." Not to mention the personal satisfaction of eating yummy food!! But, I will try to achieve balance so it is not ALL I think about, thank you, son number one.

Don't even get me started on the cinnamon rolls!

The Romantic Side of Kindergarten

I will be the first to admit that my 5 year old is a doll. Dimples, cheeks, blue eyes and blonde hair. Just too cute for words. Well, apparently, I am not the only girl who thinks this is true.

A couple of weeks ago, my boy came home from Wednesday night church and told me that the little sister of my 8 year old's best friend had announced to him that she "has a crush" on him. He was quite embarrassed by this, and just seemed to want it to go away. I laughed about it, told him this girl has really good taste, and just moved on. Oh, if it were only that easy.

Yesterday, my 5 year old had his first day of Kindergarten at the homeschool academy my kids attend once a week. He was so excited, and had lots of fun stuff to tell me at the end of the day. His favorite class probably was something like....lunch. Normal boy stuff.

So this morning, as I am settling down to school the kids, I get a phone call from a mom from our school. She and I both work for the school taking care of the younger kids, so I figured it was business. I figured wrong. Here is how it went.

Friend: "Julie, this is (friend). I just needed to talk to you about what happened at school between my daughter and your son."

Me: "I didn't know anything had happened!" Undoubtedly this is because she has the daughter and I have the son. These boys just don't tell me anything sometimes! Especially the juicy stuff.

Friend: "Well, my daughter had heard that so and so at church has a crush on your son, so she decided that she does, too. Then she led her little friend to also say that she had a crush on him, and they both ended up kissing him."

Me: Silence. Then, "Okaaaaay, he did not tell me about this!!!"

Friend: "Well, I wanted you to know about it, and that the mom of the other girl and I really are sorry to have had him put in such an uncomfortable position. I am sure he was embarrassed. But he dealt with it in a way that I and the other mom think was really great. I just want you to know that first. We like the way he handled it."

Me: "Uh-oh, what did he do?"

Friend: "Well, he turned to the girls and told them that if they didn't stop he was going to beat them up."

That's my boy. (Sigh.)

So we talked about how I would still be having a talk with him about how we don't ever beat up girls or even SAY we are going to beat up girls. She talked about how this was just an innocent kid thing, but she wanted her daughter to apologize anyway, so she got on the phone with me, and through HEAVY sobs told me she was sorry. I kindly passed on my forgiveness to this poor little broken, embarrassed girl, and then, the real horror began as she had to apologize to the "kiss-ee".

I should say the real horror began for him. He truly didn't even know why she was apologizing. And when he asked me why she was, I whispered, "Because she kissed you." Suddenly he must have been possessed by Yoda or something, because in some weird voice I have never heard him make before, he began saying to this poor little sweet girl, "I forgive you I don't care. I forgive you I don't care." He said this three or four times, and then I took the phone away from him to spare her the agony of listening to that voice anymore. (Or maybe to spare ME the agony!)

What have I learned from this? What nugget of truth can I take away from this and learn from it? Nothing. None. Nada. It just is hilariously funny. Well, I guess I learned that my friend is a sweet caring mommy who really loves her girl and wants to guard her purity of heart as she grows older. I love that about her. Maybe I learned that I need to spend some more time on chivalry with my boys, and on learning how to NOT threaten to beat up a girl.

Mostly I think I learned that my boys are so cute I am going to have to lock them away until they are 35. This was not our first kissing issue in Kindergarten. When son #2 was in Kindergarten, he was also kissed by a girl with a crush on him. Who knew that Kindergarten had so much romance and drama in it?

Come to think of it, it won't hurt them to wait to date until they are 40, will it? Will it? Wait, don't answer that. This is my plan and I am sticking to it!

11 Years, 4 AM, Learning Acceptance

Today is my 11th wedding anniversary. 11 years ago today, I married the sweetest, kindest, most patient man on earth. He has had a lot to be patient with, marrying me! I have been blessed beyond measure as his wife. Maybe not in the traditional sense that some may think. We don't have a ton of money, our house is small, our cars are not fancy. But we have got it where it counts. After 11 years, 4 kids and 6 pregnancies, we love each other. Plain and simple.

So, why am I up at 4 am? It is because, at 6 weeks and 6 days pregnant, I am bleeding. I was blessed to see our little baby yesterday via ultrasound. All 4 mm of it, beating heart and all. Amazing. How can anything that is 4 mm long have a heart beat that I was able to hear and that they clocked at 128 beats per minute? Friends, anyone who doubts God's existence must never have listened to their baby's heartbeat at 6 weeks and 5 days gestation.

Since the baby is so small, about the size of a bean, the boys and I are calling it "Beanie". The boys have been troopers. They served me all day yesterday so that I could stay on the couch and give Beanie a rest. Or, more appropriately, give Beanie's house a rest. I have never seen those boys so unselfish and ready to help. It was such a comfort to my heart to see my blessings walking around in front of me.

And yet, I am frustrated. I feel like my body is betraying me. My blood levels are all normal, I am resting, and yet I am still bleeding. I know that everything might be okay, and I am praying to that end, yet I am angry with my womb. Just quit already! I wish shouting at my body would work, because if it would work, I would do it. Alas, stressing myself out by shouting at my body won't help.

So, here I am at 4 am. I am grateful to God for all of my blessings, and I am scared. My dear friend sent me this scripture: "I lift my eyes up to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth." He made me, this world, the heavens, everything that is part of my world. He made my sweet little Beanie. He knows, better than we do, what we need, and what this baby needs. If He chooses to take this little one ahead of us, we know it had to be a compassionate choice full of love for us and for our baby.

We recently lost our nephew. He was a very sick baby while he was alive. We prayed and prayed for him, but ultimately, the Lord chose to bring him home. It has crossed my mind several times that maybe this baby is sick. If I were to lose this baby, could it be a mercy to this little one to keep it from suffering? I just don't know. What it boils down to is, the Lord is good. There is no evil in Him. He can't screw up. He isn't sleeping and missing this. He is just good and in control.

So, I am going to lay down and pray that our baby isn't going to die. But mostly I will pray for sleep for my weary mind. Man, I am glad no one ever said that walking through this life should be easy. But, for this moment, God has given me a husband who wants to walk beside me through all of this, and I am not alone. Even without him, I wouldn't be alone. I am blessed beyond measure, and clinging to the truth that nothing can change that fact. 11 years, 4 kids, 1 miscarriage and a currently scary pregnancy later, I have more blessings than I can count. I wouldn't give any of this back. Not even this little time I have had with Beanie. Whatever the outcome, God gave me another life to carry, and I am grateful.

Smiles vs. Frowns

Have you ever asked yourself, at what point did it become okay to look happy in a photograph? My dear husband and I were mulling over this question as we looked at a picture my father sent to me yesterday. I would say we could all agree that a 50th anniversary should be a smiling, happy occasion. Yet, let's take a look at my great grandparents on their 50th anniversary....

Bless their little hearts, what is going on there? They are having a party, no doubt family has gathered around to celebrate their life together, shoot, that box looks like it came from a bakery for crying out loud!!! What could possibly be wrong with that? And yet, they look like they are attending a wake!!!

Surely this must be a cultural thing. Surely they weren't just that unhappy!!! If they were, then most of their generation and those before them were miserable, unhappy, and desperate to not have their photos taken, because this type of picture was the norm for a really long time.

Contrast this with our photos now. Here is one from our wedding:

Here we are, happy, smiling, glad to finally be married! (Not to mention WAY, WAY skinnier than we are now.) I am so glad that I was born in the smiling generation.

Truth is, things probably are way easier for us then they were for them. I have my fill of anything I want from the local mega mart. I can stay home with my kids while my husband goes off to his office job. I wash my clothes in an electric washer, wash my dishes in an electric dishwasher, my carpets are cleaned with our electric vacuum cleaner. When I have the time, I blog and catch up with the world around me via computer or the news. Compared to our previous generations, I have a cushy life.

Well, I am thankful for that, although somewhere inside it shames me a bit. I know for sure that there are people out there today living an even harder life than my great grandparents did. So, rather than feel satisfied with my life of luxury, I am going to spend today just being thankful for my blessings. Because, as I look at my home, my boys, my hubby and my electric washing machine, I realize, I have a LOT to smile about!!! Excuse me while I run and get my camera!!

A Nauseous Mommy

I wish to begin this post with this emphatic statement: I am glad and thankful that I am pregnant. I thank the Lord each day, and I am grateful that we have a chance to see another little one come into the world to amaze us daily. Nothing I am going to say makes this not true. Okay, here goes the rest.

Being a mommy, and a homeschooling, working mommy at that, takes many things. It takes good planning, energy, and a certain amount of finess to get it all done. When one of these things is missing, it just seems to all go a bit wrong. If one of these things is missing, and you add nausea to it, it becomes, well, really challenging!

I don't know if I have forgotten how tiring the first trimester is, how exhausting, how GREEN, but it is really kicking my tail. At least today it is! I am still teaching, working, shopping, cleaning, etc., but I am also gagging, shivering, and saying "Boys, stop talking about that. You are going to make mommy puke." I say this a lot, come to think of it. It is amazing how many gut churning conversations can be had by 4 little boys. I am also making time every day, usually during the baby's nap, to sleep as long and hard as I can.

I had a great nap today. Now I am awake and wishing that I wasn't. I am so nauseous that I wonder if I will live through it. I know that I will, but, ugh. No fun.

The odd thing about nausea is that when it isn't here, I worry. I think, what if something has happened to the baby? When it is, I think, okay, I am glad that I have it, but I am going to die here! Nausea, you can't live with it, etc., etc.

I wish that I could do what I have done in the past. Decide that the only thing that will make me feel better is a box of Little Debbies, and then just go get some. But no, I am too financially responsible for that. Well, at least too responsible to do that very often! Truth be told, the Oatmeal Creme Pies I ate earlier this week really didn't stop the nausea. Bummer.

Maybe I need to try Swiss Cake Rolls!

Prayers are Amazing!

Wow, since last I wrote, God has seen fit to answer my fervently typed prayer from the previous blog: I am pregnant. This is a lot to take in, even if I prayed for it to be true.

Just for a little history lesson, I have been pregnant 5 times before this. My first pregnancy was just a few months into my marriage, and we were shocked and excited. 2 months later it was all over. We were devastated and broken hearted. Our baby was gone, we were grieving, and we didn't know what to do.

2 months later, another positive pregnancy test. Needless to say, we were stunned and scared to death. It was the beginning of my battle with fear over the well-being of my children, and the beginning of my learning years. Learning to trust God with the most precious things to me on earth, learning that even if He chooses to take them away from me, I can still trust Him. I am still working on that last one. It may be true, but it doesn't make it easy to believe and live out. I'm just pleased that now I am at least convinced it is true!

Fast forward nine months, and along came son #1. Then 8 months later, another positive pregnancy test. 9 months later, son #2. At this point things changed for us. I was no longer "Fertile Myrtle" as my friends had been calling me. We wanted more kids, but it took quite a while and a lot of trying to create son #3. Wow, it was worth it, though! He is really something! Son numbers 2 and 3 are 2 1/2 years apart, and after having 1 and 2 sixteen months apart, that seemed really long. I had no idea.

So there we were with 3 beautiful little blonde-haired, blue-eyed boys, and my heart cried out for more. My husband and I pretty much as a rule do not prevent pregnancy and are open to however many God would like to give us. Well, during these growing years, God knew we weren't ready for another one yet. Finally, when son #3 was 4 years old, we were blessed with son #4.

(As a little aside, I must note that whenever I had my ultrasounds and found out what the new baby was, I have openly wept every time we saw another little "private part" sticking up for the world to see! Not that I would trade any of them for a whole room full of girls, but it is always just a tad disappointing to know I will still be alone in my little pink world.)

So, as I noted in my last post, my baby isn't a baby any longer. About a week ago, things started feeling a little green and nauseous around here. I started dozing off in movie theaters. I couldn't eat my daily scrambled eggs any more because they made me want to hurl! I was suspicious! 2 days ago, I decided to go ahead and spend the money on a test just to be sure. I was definitely late and all, but that isn't unusual for me. However, the nausea usually doesn't lie. So there I went off to Meijer, bought the cheapest test I could find, and brought it home.

The test said to give about 2 or 3 minutes for results. I waited, praying it would be definitive. About 3 seconds into the test, the telltale plus sign showed up. My response, to go completely numb. I wasn't happy, I wasn't sad, I was numb. There is a person inside of me. Wow. A tiny person, no doubt, but a person nonetheless.

No matter how many of these little critters I am blessed with, I will never lose the wonder of what God has entrusted me with. For the next 9 months, this little one will be on my mind every time I take a bite of food, choose to stay up watching the Olympics when I should be sleeping, every time I have a headache and decide whether or not to take something. My body is now someone else's home, and what I do to me, I do to that person a well. This is an awesome responsibility.

And, in 9 months, I will again have the opportunity to give birth. I am one of the strange people who actually looks forward to this. I am afraid when I think about it, because I know it hurts like nothing else I have ever done, but it is the most amazing process God has ever given me the honor of going through, and even with the pain, I look forward to doing it again.

Today, though, I battle fear. I fear losing the baby. That is it. Again, I am in school learning how to trust God with my most treasured possessions. And this time I am praying that I will come out of this with a victory over my fear. I know He is worth trusting, no matter how this pregnancy ends.

On a lighter note, son #3 keeps calling me thing like "pregnant lady" and hugging my belly. He has no less than 5 times already reminded me that I "already look pregnant", and that my belly is already sticking out. God bless the little buggers, they are honest, aren't they? Wait, why did I want more???

My boys are ruining my baby

So that I don't leave you hanging, as if any of you are, my trip to the lake with my lady friends was wonderful, refreshing, and well worth doing. I had a great time. I bobbed around a lake for a while in a life jacket, I cried, I laughed, I made cinnamon rolls. In other words, it was the quintessential girls' weekend. There was the one adventure with the 4 of us nearly sinking a paddle boat, but other than that, it was a peaceful, recharging weekend. And man did I need it.

I returned home to discover that my boys were still boys. They were still loud, gaseous, wild little stinkers. But you could tell they really missed me, and despite the desperate way that I had wished for a break, I was ready to return to my crazy little men.

So, fast forward a week, and here I am with the above mentioned conclusion: My boys are ruining my baby. My baby is precious. He is sweet. He is also about 20 months old, and not so much of a baby anymore. I know this is natural, but my heart rebels against it. He needs to stay sweet and innocent and neutral forever. I guess when you have three older brothers, though, this is not a realistic goal.

So, how are they ruining him? Here are some examples. When he passes gas, or "toots" as we call it, he laughs. Hysterically. Then he bends over and shoves REALLY hard to try to do it again, with his audience of older brothers laughing with equal hysterics. He didn't figure this one out by himself.

Secondly, today the boys were making "under-arm toots", and he sat with them, laughing and flapping one bent arm like a demented one-winged chicken. Which of course led to much laughing from the peanut gallery, and tons of "Mamma, you should see what Tobe is doing!!" I decided that since I was eating, I didn't need to observe the pit-toots just right then.

Well, I guess it was just a matter of time before he began to explore the fun side of being a big boy. The sounds a boy can make with his body, for some reason, are of endless fascination to them. Must be the testosterone or something. Tobe has discovered that he can make car noises with his mouth, and can chatter on endlessly with strange, nonsensical sounds pouring from his face. He also didn't learn this one on his own. I have a 9 year old that handed that one down.

So, the moral of the story is, it is time for another one. The boys have ruined my sweet little innocent, neutral baby by turning him into a BOY. I guess we'll just have to pray that God wants us to have another child so that I can have another 18 months or so before that child, (undoubtedly male), crosses over to the dark side, leaving me here, alone, on the pink side.

Truth be told, I wouldn't have them any other way. For some reason, God in His wisdom, made them to be farting, burping, pit-tooting little wild men. And that same wisdom dropped me in this bucket with them. I'll be forever grateful.