1... chore from my Saturday work list is done

2... books I read way too often are Mordant's Wish and Goodnight Gorilla

3... [unsuccessful] attempts have been made at getting Jackson to nap since 10am

4... dozen cookies are baked and ready for tomorrow's end-of-year BBQ

5... whole minutes spent showering (and only that long because I had to stick my head out for at least 1 whole minute to convince Bronwyn not to tip Jack out of his car seat)

6... diaper-changes so far today

7... hours from now I hope to be fast asleep

8... couch pillows make up much of my son's drumset

9... months ago Bronwyn wore 6-12 month clothes; today she wears 2T

10... hours of sleep in one night seems like a far-off dream

Last night, after spending the previous two nights waking at least every 2 hours with a sometimes-hungry, sometimes-just-squirmy, sometimes-just-fussy baby (I'm okay with newborns keeping such routines, but 3+ months later, my tolerance--and energy--for such things is beginning to wane), I let Jackson cry himself to sleep. It was 2am. He had just eaten, burped, and I'd rocked him to sleep. He'd woken up within 10 minutes of being laid back down. I had picked him up and rocked him to sleep again. But he woke up just a few short minutes after being laid down again.

I knew he was tired. I knew he didn't have a hungry belly or a dirty diaper. I knew he just wanted to be with me. And as much as I love being with him, a pinched nerve in my neck that pretty much wrecked last weekend, and day after day of waking up rather exhausted from sharing my bed for half the night with him, I needed him to sleep--and on his own.

After an hour of on and off crying (more on than off), he succumbed to exhaustion--as did his mother.

Of course, I can't decide now whether I actually feel better today than if I'd just shared the bed from 2am on with Jack. Due to my 2-hour stint in the middle of the night (plus another nursing at 5:45am, which still counts as "night" in my opinion!) following two previous bad nights, I have a splitting headache, and the scratchy throat I've been doing my best to hold at bay is developing into something more like a cough.

I realize that the goal in all of this is that eventually Jack will sleep well in his bed and I will sleep well in mine. But doesn't everyone know to refrain from using words like eventually with a stay-at-home-mom-to-toddlers-and-babies?

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God."

["In everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."]

"And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

His peace that goes beyond what circumstances would otherwise dictate is promised to me... as I give thanks.

Make me thankful, Lord. In everything.

------------------------------------

On an entirely different note: I received this message from ebay today, and couldn't resist posting it. Guess it just proves how much secular humanism impacts the society around us.

With your positive feedback, you reinforce the eBay value that "People are basically good."

Yuck.

I took a lot more pictures the other day that I just never had time to upload. I thought they were cute enough to post, even a couple days later!

Jackson smiles a lot these days--and he seems to be closing in on 13lbs!


A classic Bronwyn-look! Total independence!


The three cousins watching Veggie Tales while I put Aidan and Jackson to sleep
[by the way, Abby, we have Aidan's duck and will get it to you soon!]

There's nothing like a brownie and Starbucks Java Chip ice cream, a room full of noisy sisters and brothers (including "adopted" brothers), and watching a good night on American Idol to remind me that life is not all sorrow and difficulty. Really, I don't know why I so easily believe that the daily grind is so un-endurable, but I do. My confession is made.

With that made clear, it's a good thing reminders come. Often.

Another good reminder is reading "things I appreciate" lists on another's site. It gets the wheels in my head turning, and I quickly find that my life is full of unaccounted for blessings. The problem is that I'm so self-centered, I think I'm getting a bad deal the minute the demands on me are greater than my own sufficiency, and that I'm being gypped every time my days don't look exactly like I'd planned.

So, I voted for some of tonight's--in my humble opinion--best performers (him, her, him) and now I'm making a [short] list of "things I appreciate."

--His discipline, which works for my own good... without a doubt
--a patient husband who overlooks my off-the-handle comments in moments of stress
--Bronwyn's independence which, though needing to be curbed at times, already alleviates some of the daily work for me
--the sun peeking out after lots and lots of rain
--grass that is incredibly green because of the dreary rain
--a vacuum cleaner that works and eliminates the greatly-disliked ladybugs from my home
--Jackson's increasingly chubby cheeks
--feeling connected to the outside world even as a stay-at-home mom because of weblogs (what did women do before?!)
--a house that I am more and more in love with every day that I live here
--the privilege of watching and caring for my children everyday, and being the one who shares their every joy and sorrow
--a sister-in-law and sisters, lots of them (Liana and Camilla, too!), who give me regular and undeserved breaks with their babysitting services
--teaching and inspiration that compells me to lift my eyes up
--Gabriel's brilliance
--time to work and time to rest... it's a good plan

Now that I'm on a roll, I could keep going and going. I think I will. But I'll spare you.

Last week my children were playing outside wearing nothing but shorts and T-shirts. Today it is very cold; sunny at last, but cold, nonetheless. It feels like a bit of a setback.

Still, I know spring is coming. One cold day--indeed, even a string of cold days--doesn't change that.

I am not the most optimistic of sorts. And often, in the midst of the setbacks of life, I am convinced that it means that "spring" is never coming.

But that's not true. He said that He will complete the good work He's begun in me. Period. A bad day--indeed, even a string of bad days--doesn't change that.

I'm glad.

I felt pretty pleased.

There were five children here with me tonight. [Four of them in diapers.] Besides my own, I had hers--ages 20 months and 6 months.

When Daniel and Abby arrived home from attending calling hours, the girls had been re-diapered and were ready for bed, the oldest boy was in pajamas, the two youngest boys were already sleeping, and I was doing some bedtime reading with the remaining three. The house was even picked up.

And then I thought, Why am I impressed with myself? I did this for an hour; she has lived this!

Lisa's my hero.

The highlights of Toddler-Lives:

#1--Playing with Daddy's hats




#2--Watching Jackson discover toys




#3--Being together


Please keep Colin and his family in your prayers.

I haven't written in a couple days. For some bloggers (actually, quite a few), this is the normal practice. For me, it isn't. I write a lot.

Daniel once asked me why I find it so easy to post on a regular basis; why I am able to sit down and easily find something to write. I told him that I think it's because I have always processed life through writing. Not that I'm a very good writer, and not that I will ever be. But years ago Mom started me on a path of daily writing and, to this day, I find writing to be a source for sorting my thoughts out. Indeed, I could simply write what I ate for lunch today and find my heart feeling a bit more settled--because in the space of time it takes me to record my eating habits, I manage to unravel emotional and mental tangles.

At any rate, I could attribute the lack of writing to the pinched nerve (my diagnosis--could be something else) in my neck that had me powerless to move much of Friday and throughout Saturday morning. I could also attribute it to the simple nature of weekends: busy. But that's not really it.

Last night as Daniel and I sat in First Crush, I told him that sometimes I feel a bit helpless against the tidal waves that wash over me. I won't blame it on Gabriel's behavior, or having three children in three years, or the ministry, or being melancholy, or Daniel's busyness, or any other thing that might look, in the moment, to be the cause for the deep discouragement and anguish that I [too often] am tormented by. There are cycles in life--highs and lows--that everyone faces, and I allow myself to be taken by them. That is the problem.

I told him I need to change. More. My vision gets so myopic so quickly.

Yeah, the truth is that I haven't written because, for the past couple days, I haven't cared.

Which made the message today all the more timely for me than ever. Jesus cares. He cares about people. A lot of people. And if I love Him, I will care, too.

Okay... I had to do this, because every time I would read it on someone else's site, I found myself finishing the sentences mentally. I figure if I actually take the time to fill it out, I might be able to just read others' without doing so!

I am: in-between loads of laundry
Maybe I should: read my children a story
I love: getting an uninterrupted night's sleep
I don't understand: liking chemistry
I lost my: favorite pajama pants
People say I'm: gonna make it!
Love is: when Daniel washes the dinner dishes/watches the kids so I can take a long walk
Somewhere, someone is: in labor, and I feel badly for her
I will always: want to shop more
Forever is: how long it takes me to grocery shop
I never want to: be too busy for local church
I think the current President is: faced with challenges
When I wake up in the morning, I: wonder if I can get away with 15 more minutes of sleep
Life is full of: ups and downs
My past is incredibly: blessed
I get annoyed when: Gabriel tries to bite Bronwyn
I wish: house projects didn't cost money
My dog/cat is: never to be
Kisses are the worst when: mixed with baby snot (I couldn't top that, Abby!)
Nice: the weather
Tomorrow I'm going to: attend the first [of many] spring wedding
I really want some: time for personal reading
I have low tolerance for people who are: selfish with their time
If I had a million dollars: I would buy a hutch and big table for my dining room, buy lots of flowers to plant outside, and pay for the Spain team's trip (and probably some other things, too, but those were my first thoughts)

There! Now I can stop this ridiculous mental game I play every time I read a blog!

I have been buying things and making plans to buy yet other things. And these things all point to the fact that my children are growing. And all this makes me wistful.

On my shopping list (some purchased, most not):

1. training pants
     I haven't decided when exactly I will switch Bronwyn from diapers to the cute flowered training pants, but it will be soon--she seems ready--and, while I anticipate going back to having only one in diapers, I find potty-training to be a very sad time for me. Good-bye, baby... Hello, toddler.

2. bunkbeds
    As I approach the need for Bronwyn to be in a bed so that Jackson can have the crib (for now, he has used the wonderful Plymouth Plantation basket my mom gave to me three years ago, but it won't be long before he won't fit in there), I've decided it makes more sense to get bunkbeds that will one day serve both boys and let Bronwyn have the bed Gabriel currently uses. Good long-term solution, in theory; the only problem is that I'm too sentimental to move Bronwyn into a "big bed."

3. bookshelves
    Gabriel's art supply stash is growing (his 3rd birthday brought quite an increase). I haven't had a place to keep such things, but if I replace some lower toy shelves that are in the family room with tall bookshelves, I can use the higher shelves for art supplies that shouldn't be touched without supervision. I just can't believe I have a child old enough to use fingerpaints.

4. bicycle
    Now that we have a yard, we need some things to play with out there. I looked at tricycles for a while, only to find that most reviewers recommend a full-fledged bicycle (with training wheels, of course) for 3-year-olds. And here I was, thinking (hoping?) that the little 18" tall Radio Flyer would satisfy my rambunctious little boy.

5. The Boxcar Children, Little House, and other similar reading materials
    I've always wanted my children to love books and reading. It's always been my intention to stretch their minds. And, quite suddenly, I am realizing that these plans must take action today, because they are growing. As much as I love sitting down with them and reading a simple and pleasurable book like The Napping House, I'm going to have to move on to more advanced stuff before I know it. Unbelievable.

Once again, today I found myself with that very acute realization that I am a mom. I often think that the days of teaching my children and training my children are yet ahead of me--reserved for that time when I, myself, am fully taught and trained. And then I take a look at my son, and I realize he's a growing little boy; his mind is developing and he is taking much in. I look at my daughter, and I realize that she is not the quiet and smiling baby sitting on a blanket quite contentedly; but, rather, she is entering into her own; she is discovering her will, her preferences, her ideas.

Yeah. Better get on the shopping list.

Sometimes I wish we were the kind of family who gave a kiss and waved good-bye at the same time each morning. I find myself considering those who have their nightly ritual--with Daddy reading aloud and kids sitting and listening. I imagine what dinner all together every night of the week might look like. And I wish...

But, we are being spent for the Lord. It doesn't look like what I ideally invision, true. And yet, this is what I pray for deep down inside. More than having Saturdays to work around the house and Sundays to do fun things as a family, I want my life to be a drink offering for the Father.

So when I start to wish, I remind myself that it's a good thing He grants the right prayers and not every prayer.

Easter pictures are in:

Gabriel discovering his basket...


Bronwyn discovering hers...


Daddy (and Gabriel) helping Jackson discover his.


New books!


Jack got one, too!

And all of us--though you've no idea how hard it was to get these shots.
(Or maybe some of you do...)

It was a really wonderful day!

Cheese braids are baked. Cardomom bread, too.

The table is set with my china--and it is beautiful, I must say. A set of tumbling bunnies serve as our centerpiece; there is a gift-wrapped book at each child's place.

Grinds and water are in the coffee maker (timers are a wonderful thing). The fruit salad is cut up and in a lovely bowl given by her (and her husband) as a wedding gift. All I'll have to do in the morning is pour half and half into the creamer, cut up the cheese braid, and move said bowl from refrigerator to table.

A little green seersucker dress hangs next to my white skirt; both are ironed crisp. The great $7 find--a new dress shirt for Daniel--is nearby, and by that are the boys' outfits.

Baskets--one green, one yellow, one blue--are hidden in the laundry room, and clues to lead toddlers to them are tucked around the house.

We will share the early hours as a family and then leave 5 minutes for the short drive to the church in our [almost] backyard. After church we will join my family for a great and raucous meal.

His sacrifice--his awful death on the cross--means life for me. The more I celebrate, the more wonderful it becomes.

Only He can make death such a beautiful thing, for He has defeated it.

Behold, I tell you a mystery; we will not all sleep, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable must put on the imperishable, and this mortal must put on immortality. But when this perishable will have put on the imperishable, and this mortal will have put on immortality, then will come about the saying that is written, "Death is swallowed up in victory." "O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?" The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

You have opened the way to the Father
Where before we could never have come
Jesus, count us as Yours now forever...

    Matt Redman

Wounded Savior
I will ever thank You for Your blood
Man of Sorrows
My tomorrows shall be filled with love
For You
Derek Levendusky

Anyone who has ever shared a dinner with the Sinclairs knows how loud such an affair can and will be. After all, you put 15 people and a baby (plus whoever happens to be living in the house or stopping by at that time) around one table and there's bound to be some noise--especially when considering that the 16 people includes a Merrick personality, two toddlers and lots of sisters.

Last night our meal at Mama Lucia's celebrating my dad's 52nd birthday (which actually took place April 3rd while he was in the midst of travel home from Spain) was no different. And as I sat there and observed the animated conversation, the senseless noise produced by the youngest ones, and the boisterous laughter (yes, most Sinclair girls have quite noisy laughs), I felt so blessed. I considered families whose shared meals are nothing more than shared food and are rather quiet, with nobody having anything they want to share with the others and strife in place of joy, and I found myself appreciating all over again that my sisters and brothers and I are not only willing to spend time together, but that we have a good time while doing so.

Part of the prophetic word over Daniel and I Tuesday night was that we would be an example of what "normalacy" (yes, I know, no such word exists--but the prophet said it first!) in a family is. And while 15+ people sitting around a table enjoying one another immensely is far from normal in our culture, it's normal in the sense of it being healthy. Sometimes I fear when people come to my house that they are bothered by the commotion caused by small children and that we are not blessing them because of this, but such interruptions and dealings are part of life. It is in the handling of children and siblings and parent/children relationships that we can be a blessing. Normalcy must stem from what is healthy: love for one another (including those younger than us), an eagerness to talk and communicate within the family, correction and discipline when necessary, and having a good time even when it's "just us." This definition of normalcy in action is what will touch and heal lives.

I'm excited about the days ahead, and I have a fresh anticipation for meals shared with others. For now, I'll be glad for every opportunity to demonstrate patience and joy in working with ones much younger and less mature than us, and in the days ahead I'll enjoy the laughter and talking that will take place between us all!

Who wants to come over for dinner?!

There has been a repeating thought I've had often throughout the past six months: I can't imagine how it feels to lose a son. Last night, I found new comfort in the fresh realization that God knows. Chris was His son, too.

I hate that nothing can bring him back. But I love that He bears our burdens with us. I'm so glad He's walking with the Moultons, and I'm so in awe of His ability to bring life and light where there has been death and sorrow. Yeah, I don't know how He's gonna do it--but I know He will. He never says one thing and does another.

Jesus loves us. He really, really does.

Liking:

--a cleaned-out upstairs closet that now awaits his belongings
--having two apple pies made in preparation for tomorrow night
--husband being home all afternoon
--Bronwyn's German-English "language"
--a lock on the door to the basement
--visiting with my sister and knowing it's not just more fun than work, but more important, too
--being on the list to receive presbytery


Not liking:

--baby not taking a good nap all day
--crud in the crevices of sippy-cup lids that won't come out no matter what I try
--rats living in our basement and crawling around inside our bedroom walls
--the chandelier for my dining room sitting in a box
--the lack of closet space and storage space
--that less than half my "to do"s for the day are crossed off
--torn book pages and broken toys

So I'm at the grocery store--a shopping trip squeezed between a WIC appointment this morning (we were re-cert'ing, which includes testing iron levels on toddlers and stripping babies for weigh-ins) and a dr's appointment for Jackson and I (this would be in an effort to lick this bout of thrush that we've been dealing with for almost a month). I am pushing one cart full of food that is separated into three portions: my purchases, church purchases, and WIC purchases. I am pulling a monstrous cart that is designed to look like a race car: it's seating Gabriel and Bronwyn, who are thrilled with the "wheels" they are using to "steer," and containing Jackson, carseat and blankets and all, in the intended-for-groceries cart bed. I think to myself that we must look really strange, and that people are either thinking it's super-cute or else they're using me as an example of why they never had children of their own. Since we live in the North Country, I'm hopeful and assuming there were a lot more of the former and none of the latter.

And then it dawns on me in a way that it has only dawned on me a few times prior: this is for real. This is my life. I'm not pretending or playing house or waiting for reality to arrive. There won't be a day when the toddlers don't whine and the infant doesn't scream until they're grown and gone. Same with taking walks and not having to stop every couple steps to re-tie shoes, pick up sippy cups that have been tossed overboard, and pop pacifiers back in mouths. Same with going to church and sitting through an entire sermon. And on it goes. I can't keep waiting for total serenity or else I'll be waiting until I die. This IS!

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I didn't even know if I was really being lucid or simply having a nervous breakdown. All I knew was that Bronwyn was pulling bag after bag of peanut M&Ms off the shelf and throwing them towards the cashier, Jackson was crying and making the mentally-handicapped grocery bagger stress out, Gabriel was having a meltdown--tears and all--because he had to go the bathroom and I was making him wait, and I was realizing that I keep dismissing such moments as these as "not real" when they are very much the reality of my life! Wake up, Brietta! Take it as is or else miss the whole thing!

So I laughed as I picked up the bags of candy and put them back. And, to my amazement, the cashier did too. And then, to my greater amazement, I paid for the groceries and began making my way to the van (picture me with both carts--one in front and one in back) and I didn't even feel like I needed to call Daniel and freak out in order to avoid laying my head on the steering wheel and bawling like a baby.

At the dr's, Bronwyn lost it. For whatever reason, she was going ballistic about being in the exam room and couldn't handle having the door closed. But I didn't lose it. I didn't even come close! And I didn't feel embarrassed when Katie (who is amazing and ought to do visits for every baby and child) took Jackson from my arms so I could pick up my wailing, snot-covered 20-month-old and try to bring some calm to the situation. I didn't even feel embarassed when she walked me all the way out to the van and helped me get the kids in their carseats.

One of the hardest things as a mom for me is when we're out and about and the kids aren't doing well (which, let's be honest, is a lot of the time). I almost always feel as though I'm being a horrible representation of parenting and family as God intended and that I'm re-inforcing every wrong attitude people have about children. But today, after my reality check, I was okay with where I'm at. The bottom line is that I have three kids who are not very old. For pete's sake, I'm not very old! I don't have it all together, and I'm not always good at what I do. There are a lot of days that include breakdowns somewhere along the way, and there are some days that just feel like one looooong breakdown. But it's okay. Because God's good at what He does--and that includes making up my lack.

So when people look at me and say they're sorry or impressed or that I'm crazy for being out alone with three young children, I can just smile and say, "Isn't it good that God's better than me at this?!"

NOTE: For those who have been praying, Jackson (who is 12 and 1/2 weeks old) weighed in today at 11lbs 3oz.  He has gained just about 3lbs since birth and just a few ounces less than that in the last 8 weeks (he was 4 weeks when we first realized he wasn't growing much). As you can see, he's doing well! I am very glad to see proven continued progress and appreciate the prayers that have been offered on his behalf.

Not-so-interesting Stats:

--I have spent 4+ weeks of Jackson's 12+ weeks alive applying Nystatin cream. (Does that sound annoying to anyone besides me?)

--Gabriel and Bronwyn drink 1 mixed can of Welch's white grape peach juice concentrate in 2 days.

--Every single salad I've eaten in the last 12+ weeks is either all or partially baby spinach.

--I have watched 2 movies in the theater in the last 3 years. (My gift to Daniel on Valentine's Day '05 was watching Miracle at Lowe's Theater and my sisters took me to see Two Weeks Notice when I was pregnant with Bronwyn, for any who really care to know.)

--I have watched less than a dozen movies in the theater in my entire life.

--Out of the last 47 months, I have spent 27 pregnant and 26 breastfeeding. (Yes I did, for a short time, nurse both Gabriel and Bronwyn while pregnant and, no, neither of them have brain damage as a result.)

--I had my permit for 6 weeks before my dad finally told me to get behind the wheel and drive.

--My first experience driving was backing my parents' 15-passenger van out of my parents' driveway. (For those of you who have done such a thing, you know it isn't easy even if you've been driving for years.)

--I hated peppers until I got married and, upon seeing how often my in-laws included them in salad or on pizza, I successfully decided to like them. (Now I can't figure out why I waited to so many years to do so!)

--I have never participated in Electric Slide.

Okay. I'll stop now. I could probably continue such random statements for a really long time, at which point all readers would be irritatingly bored and people would know too much about me.

If I were a voting woman, I'd vote for:

1. Chris (I didn't think he was a bit boring, but actually kind of nice)
2. Katharine (though I have to agree with Daniel that she was a bit overboard with "seductive" moves this week)
3. Elliot (because he's my favorite--not necessarily because he was super great tonight)

And if I were in charge of AI, I'd:

1. kick Ace of the show because he's in love with himself
2. tell Kellie to go because she's played the ditz thing a little too far
3. lose Bucky because he's just not that good
4. change Paris' talking-voice so that's it's as enjoyable to listen to as her performing-voice

But since I'm none of those things, I'll just tune in tomorrow night to see what happens.

I've been sick. Ick. I hate being sick as a mom. It just doesn't work. Thankfully, today I don't have the throbbing headache and burning eyes. Just a sniffly nose and stuffy sinuses.

We had a great weekend, though I did get very tired (who didn't?!) and the cold that had begun last Thursday developed into a full-fledged infection. Oh well. It was definitely worth it. The B.A.S.I.C. retreats have improved so much in the last couple years, and I am so glad for these great opportunities to get the students away from the daily grind and charged for the rest of the semester. We have really wonderful students.

Here are some pictures from the weekend. I wish we had a shot of the whole group (there were over 40 of us Saturday night), but we never thought to take such a thing. Details... details...

Great worship with Isaiah 6

Great ministry times




Great fun






Great food at the Marottas'


Great goofs


and...

Jackson's first B.A.S.I.C. retreat (he looks enthralled, doesn't he?)