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.

The Incredible Shape-Shifting Boy

My 8 year old is amazing. While you may look at him and see a sweet, blonde haird, blue-eyed, average little boy, in reality, he is........well.........it varies from day to day. At the start of every day, this beautiful boy emerges from the living room, meets me at my bed, or wherever I happen to be at the time, and announces to me what he is that day.

Probably my most favorite of all of his alter egos is "Super-Sharp Thornbush Man." It was my favorite because he made this noise like spikes flying out of something metal, and I swear I could see his thorns popping out. Very scary, indeed.

This morning he sat down on my bed and said, "Hi, momma."

To which I replied, "Hi!"

Then I could see it coming. The wide eyed, patient expression on his face that told me to buckle in because I was about to find out today's identity. And then it came. "You know what I am?"

"What are you?"

"A Ghoul."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, and I have dark blue skin, red zombie eyes, a bright yellow mouth, with a Grim Reaper hat and cloak with dark blue zombie hands. I have dark blue feet with toenails as sharp as vampire fangs and they are as long as my pointer finger but curved."

"How do you walk?" I asked.

"I claw the ground or I float!"

What else could I say? "Um, wow!"

For those of you who are NOT boys, does this strike you as a little odd? Well, it used to with me, but after several years of seeing him capably exist in our world with all of his "other identities" I am convinced that he is able to pull this double life off beautifully. Don't worry.

What concerns me is this: Why can't he be a something a little less violent? Or scary? Or mean? I am raising my sons in the church. I don't let them watch scary movies or TV. We talk about heros in history and from the Bible. So why isn't he pretending to be one of those?

I think the answer lies in the fact that he possesses a Y chromosome. They tend toward rough, violent, war related things. What I need to do is embrace my inner little boy, and just make our history and Bible sound rough, violent and war related. It really isn't hard to do when we are talking about the Old Testament!! There are plenty of battles and war to choose from.

So this will be my next goal in parenting. Make the Bible sound more violent!! I'm not sure this is my most lofty goal ever, but my son with blue skin and finger-long toenails is not a picture I want to dwell on for very long!!! My only concern is that if I do this, he might approach me one morning and say, "Hey momma. Guess who I am?"

To which I will reply, "Who?" because I am a well trained monkey after all these years.

I have no doubt it will be something like this: "I am a huge giant Philistine and I am coming to kill all the puny Isrealites with my giant club and sword."

Sigh. Where am I going wrong? Somehow the good guy isn't as exciting as the bad guy to these boys. I'm going to work on that!!!

As James Dobson said, even if you refuse to give a boy a toy gun, he will find a way to make one out of something. It is in the nature of a kid to want to be rough and have weapons. Heaven help the mommy who raises these little warmongers!!!!

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.