Doings

Today's high was 71*, which was dramatically lower than yesterday's 89-felt-like-94*. I think the Lord sent the cool front our way just for me. Not so much so that I would sleep better (which I did, by the way), but so that I could get some of the projects looming before me done.

In addition to regular chores, today's work involved re-arranging furniture (I only wedged myself into a corner that was tricky to get out of once) and sorting through the kids' clothing. I am not a fan of transitional weather because it means that I need both summer- and winter-appropriate wear available-- and there simply isn't room in the 2-3 drawers each child gets to keep his/her clothing in for all that-- but I tried my hardest to not get overly radical about putting all the shorts and Ts in storage since I am aware of the fact that more 80* days are on the horizon. At least Gabriel, Bronwyn, and Jackson's clothes are all sorted, neatly folded and re-organized (the clothing transition last spring happened when I was on bedrest so things weren't ever very well put-away), and now the boys are both moved into a hand-me-down dresser while each girl gets one of the smaller dressers given to us several years ago. All that's left to prepare the children's bedroom for a new baby is a little more furniture re-arranging (I'm not thrilled with today's final results) and getting baby clothes out of storage, then washed, and finally put in the dresser that now sits empty and waiting.

I also re-arranged Daniel's desk a little. I'm not sure it's actually in a better spot; and while a big part of me would still like to make some significant changes to the bedroom (which doubles as Daniel's office), I simply can't make such things a huge priority right now. Our room is more functional and nice-looking than it has been in the history of our marriage, so I really should be content. Dreams of re-painting and buying a new piece or two of furniture (like a bed frame) will be shelved for now and, fortunately for me, the simple re-positioning of a desk-- even if not perfect-- can help immensely with pacifying desires for sprucing.

My lengthy search for a new dining room table also continued today, though without tremendous results or leads. I still have some possibilities to look into, but the mood I'm currently in declares such hunting a waste of time and wants desperately to just go ahead and buy this table since it is exactly what I want. Frugality typically wins out over ease for me, but I am so frustrated with how long finding the "perfect deal" can take that I have actually almost fully convinced myself that a large dining table might be one of the best investments we can make for family and discipleship and that it's worth the money.

The morning and afternoon projects aside, we headed off to the concert that Gabriel and Bronwyn had been anxiously awaiting. My kids are quite the fans of Keith Urb@n's music, so the minute they found out earlier this week that Daddy would be playing some of his material, they started counting down the days. I don't think they were a bit disappointed, either, since it was a rather fun evening!

We are home again and while Daniel put the kids to bed, I washed dishes (please don't anyone tell Mom that I left the house with them sitting in the counter) and cleaned the kitchen a bit. Our day has left me tired and very much hoping that tonight won't be another unsuccessful battle for the sleep which has been too elusive in the last couple weeks, but overall I am mostly feeling pleased with my day's activities and anticipate taking more ground around the house tomorrow.

Found Faithful

I wipe down the bathroom again.

I sort the next load of laundry.

I spread peanut butter and jelly-- all the way to the edges.

I brush blonde curls.

I read another story book aloud.

I plod on.


And I pray,

Lord, help me remember that there is great joy in being found faithful. I confess that the fleeting pleasures of this world are enticing; but even as the temptation to chase after something other than what You have ordained for me is near, I remember and choose to embrace Truth: it is only You that satisfies.
May I be found faithful to You today, Lord, as I choose faithfulness to my home and family.

Blessed Baby

One might think that by child #4, a baby might be getting overlooked and only hand-me-downs. This is simply not true. Without a baby shower or even baby's arrival, a little corner of my bedroom has already accumulated several things!

The first gift for Baby was given to me last February. It was an item I'd had my eye on for much of Jackson's infancy but also something I couldn't seem to justify buying until discovering I was pregnant again-- at which point I rather quickly announced that I would be getting it, regardless of cost.

However, in keeping with a previous history of being endlessly thoughtful and generous, they beat me to the punch on the purchasing of it and it was soon delivered to me in purple tissue and black satin-y ribbon. While there have been many Sunday mornings and even more outings in the months since then when I have glanced longingly in its direction, I have yet stubbornly insisted on not breaking it in until after the baby arrives because, well, every baby needs a few new things... right?!

It will be going to the hospital with us, for sure.

Present #2 also came from them, only this time it had to be mailed all the way across the country in order to reach us. It is so darling I only wish it didn't have to wait until next year for use!

Present #3 arrived a couple days ago in the mail and is the most surpising gift, as it came from someone I don't really even know in "real life." Our lack of face-to-face interaction hasn't stopped this woman from praying for and looking forward to my baby's arrival, though-- or from sending a soft and pretty and perfect-for-winter outfit to tuck away and pull out in the coming months.

I absolutely love it.

Add to the gifts the ceaseless prayers that so many have prayed and all I can say is that for an infant who hasn't even arrived yet, little missy is already one very, very blessed baby!

A Good Dad

Last night, I sat across the room watching as all three kids climbed happily onto Daniel's lap to read a simple story (it was Jack's turn to pick the book out) before bed. They were eager and happy and, yes, a bit rambunctious.

Only those of you with children know that having reached this point of pajamas on, teeth brushed, and the toilet used one last time for the evening is never a simple or effortless feat. Keep in mind that the day began long before 6am for this particular dad (I must mention that his lack of sleep was due to my poor sleeping throughout that proceeding muggy night), involved hosting & training about 15 student leaders from 10am until around 5pm and helping me clean the house before and after said gathering, and then consider that he still had a couple hours of work before him in preparation for this morning's church service, and you've got yourself a man who has every excuse for abbreviating the bedtime process.

Reading a book like Moo, Baa, And LaLaLa seemed like the perfect thing to eliminate for the sake of sanity, and I told him I thought so.

His response?

The school semester is about to begin; evenings at home and bedtimes that include him will soon be less rather than more; he didn't want to miss this chance.

And so that silly book was read and re-read, children laughing and pointing and generally making a ruckus that would have been irresistible had we not been so exhausted. (Jackson's favorite part is the pigs singing La-La-La and so that page gets repeated a lot.) Then three kids went climbing up the stairs-- or maybe it was Daniel climbing while they all hung from his arms and shoulders and neck-- and, blessedly, it wasn't long before I could hear that they were all tucked in. Shortly, the soft hum of Daniel reading aloud the next part in our current "chapter book," the original and unabridged Peter Pan, came drifting down the stairs.


Daniel's a really, really good dad.

You might just think I'm biased toward him, but actually, I can be very hard on the people closest to me. (This is one of my most regrettable faults.) Even so, I can't think of a single time I've ever considered his fathering and found it to be lacking. In fact, watching him care for, train, and enjoy our children never ceases to challenge and inspire me.

I am hard-pressed to recall a time when he has raised his voice at Gabriel or Brownyn or Jackson. (Believe me, they've given him many reasons why raising his voice might seem incredibly justified.) Early on in Gabriel's life he asked me to, when he's around, let him do the discipline because he felt he needed to be the one personally leading this area of our children's shaping and molding-- and he has stayed true to this decision. Meals often mean little eating and more food-cutting, milk-pouring, child-training, and clean-up for him than anything else, but I've never heard him complain. He changes diapers, applies band-aids, brushes hair, wrestles the boys, dresses baby dolls, and faithfully hangs the millions of drawings from Gabriel above his desk.

Daniel works exhausting days and lots of long evenings but still insists on spending every minute he can giving me as much of a break as he can manage from the kids. And one of the amazing things to me is that he doesn't just take care of the kids to bless me: he really and truly and sincerely and with all his heart loves them and loves being with them.

They love being with him, too. And, honestly, there isn't a doubt in my mind that they will always love being with him, because his fathering doesn't have an ounce of "what's in it for me" and is entirely about them and how he can be true to the call of God on his life as a dad.


I guess as I thought again about how I am so blessed by and proud of Daniel's fathering, I decided I wanted to try to write it down. It's hard to capture in words, though, that's for sure.

It seems the best we can do at summing such things up is to say things like, "He's the best dad in the world!" and celebrate Father's Day once a year. But that hardly seems like enough. Not for someone who truly demonstrates the heart of a Heavenly Father so faithfully and lovingly and consistently.

So maybe it really does come down to offering those simple Thanks. And then knowing that one day he'll receive a reward unlike anything that can be given here on earth.


*The above picture wasn't a bit staged. They were all smiling and laughing hysterically because they'd just read about the pigs. You know... the ones who sing instead of saying, "Oink."

35 Weeks!

         

I took these pictures on back-to-back days: Thursday and Friday. In the second picture, my more fitted clothing shows exactly how big my tummy's gotten. I suppose I am including it in an attempt to entirely annihilate all personal vanity and/or illusions; I can't pretend for a minute now that multiple pregnancies haven't caught up with me.


Yesterday I looked up at one point to see Daniel laughing at me.

What? I asked.

I just can't believe how huge your stomach is compared to the rest of you!

He definitely found his observation much more hilarious than I did.


Yes, yes, our little baby looks as though she's growing an awful lot, but I still can't complain as she has yet to feel heavy to me. I do confess to finding tasks like cleaning the bathtub and re-making Jackson's crib a bit challenging these days, though, and because of the way I'm carrying her (Daniel says I look like I have a torpedo attached to the front of me; Joel thought I had a moon under my shirt; Gabriel thinks I might have a whale or 16 babies inside of me), keeping maternity pants up at a comfortable and modest height is much easier said than done.


The end of September/beginning of October still feels far enough away that I'm not quite reaching the panic-over-labor, how-can-I-escape-the-inevitable mode. I am trying to do lots to make sure my body is as prepared as possible for labor, while daily reminding myself that my true hope is not in my body's readiness and/or stamina but in my Creator. The bringing forth of life is so much more than just a physical event.


My scale tells me I've gained 25lbs so far this pregnancy. Is there any other time in life when it seems perfectly reasonable and good to have gained that much weight in half a year?!


I am so relieved on so many fronts that this pregnancy has really gone very normally since 24 weeks. Right now, I'm especially glad that it looks as though nothing will bring this baby into the world early-- not even the blood clot that has taken up permanent residency alongside her-- since the Septemember calendar is packed. Daniel and I just don't have time to think about a baby arriving until October 1st.

Besides-- call me strange if you want-- I really do love having her right where she is.

Twirling

Danica's wonderfully handmade birthday gift to Bronwyn-- a skirt and headband-- needed absolutely no explanation from me. I never so much as mentioned twirling and yet she simply knew to dance the minute she got dressed this morning.

"Daddy, look at me spinnin'!"

the matching headband


"Do I look so blue-tiful?!"

*Danica, I think I probably should take the elastic in a bit, but because I'm afraid of ruining an absolutely adorable skirt and since it's staying up somewhat decently in the meantime, I'm waiting for some help from Lore. (K, Lor?)

Menus

Every so often, I am asked what an average weekly menu plan looks like here at my house. (Incidentally, the people who ask usually aren't people who frequent our table often and so I can't help but wonder if they are only asking because they think they would like what we eat.) I don't typically know off the top of my head-- that's why I write out my menus-- and so the people who ask don't really get an answer.

Until tonight.

Here is the menu I made on Monday morning before my afternoon shopping trip, and it is a pretty typical week-in-the-summer (no soups or oven-intensive foods) dinner menu:


Monday
hamburgers on wheat buns
salad

Tuesday
baked tilapia
brown rice pilaf
salad

Wednesday
cheddar & tomato egg casserole
salad
fresh pineapple

Thursday
Carina's birthday dinner @ Mom & Dad's
(bring muffins)

Friday
cheese & bell pepper quesadillas
salad
baked tortilla chips

Saturday
sandwiches
(Daniel out all day with leadership training)

Sunday
whole wheat pasta w/ sauteed veggies
salad


As you can see, I don't make complicated or large meals. This is for a couple reasons, the top 2 being:

1. I don't have time and my children's attention spans can't handle complicated meal prep.
2. Around here, more usually means unnecessary calories and bad-for-you foods. I generally don't do starches with dinners unless it's part of the main dish (i.e. hamburger buns or pasta). My husband doesn't do manual labor and so I can get away with just passing him the salad bowl again.

I don't write out breakfast and lunch menus because we eat the same thing almost everyday. (And I wonder why Gabriel likes routine so much!?) It isn't that I don't enjoy cooking and being creative, because preparing food is actually my favorite household job and I could spend far too much time pouring over cookbooks in planning every single meal. The problem is that I am not a blessing to my family when I get too focused on meals and cooking/baking. I've learned that not only do my kids prefer eating the same simple foods over and over again in order to have my attention a bit more, my husband does, too.*

For breakfast, I serve either Cheerios with bananas & milk or good old fashioned oatmeal (made with milk and sweetened with wonderful NY maple syrup) with raisins. Occasionally, I make pancakes if Daniel's day-off happens to coincide with a simple morning schedule.

For lunch, we eat PB&J almost daily. Sometimes I get desperate to use the ridiculous amounts of eggs in our refrigerator and so I make egg salad sandwiches instead. When Daniel's home, I make 4 identical sandwiches and serve them with some sort of fresh fruit.

And that's really just about it.


*Edit: I am by no means trying to insinuate that women who spend a lot of time on meal preparation aren't being a blessing to their families. In fact, I look forward to the day when I have older children who can take the younger ones outside to play, thereby affording me the chance to devote a bit more time to recipes I am aching to try my hand at. And, believe me, I do love an occasional opportunity and cause to bake a 5-step cheesecake. All I was saying is that for now and for us, I generally have to put gourmet creations on hold because it's just where we're at.

Logical? Never!

Nesting seems too nice a word for the way I get the last several weeks of pregnancy. Somehow, when I picture a woman who is nearing delivery and is suddenly and inexplicably ambitious, I always see her scrubbing a lemony-smelling, shining-in-the-afternoon-sun wooden floor while muffins bake in the nearby oven. This is not the picture of me these days.

On Monday, I had the official pre-nesting meltdown. You know, the one where the woman realizes she has forgotten that there is actually a baby at the end of the pregnancy and now the dawning of how much she needs wants to get done while she can [kind of] set her own daily schedule is fully setting in. And if that woman looks anything like me during such a time, her behavior involves some crying and crawling under the covers in defeat, followed by large amounts of frustration unleashed on her unsuspecting husband. Finally, the feelings of being overwhelmed and too far in over her head get resolved because her unendingly gracious husband simply says, "Why don't you make a list of everything you'd like to get done in the next several weeks and we'll get it done together?"

Yes, the tears have been dried, the list has been made, priorities are fully agreed upon, and I'm now armed with a plan each morning. It feels good.

But I still don't look like the woman I picture in my mind's eye.

No, I must confess that the woman I've become is one who pads around the house, feet bare and hair undone and garbage bags in hand, rather unmercifully throwing things away. To date, all toys have been sorted through and re-organized and the kids' clothing has begun receiving like treatment. (Trust me, you don't want to be around here if you don't serve a good purpose or at the very least look pretty because you'll probably end up in a dumpster.) I have learned enough that I now wait to show Daniel what I'm throwing away before I actually do the deed, giving him his fair chance at changing my mind. I've even learned enough to agree with him occasionally about what's worth saving... once I've determined that the particular item being discussed won't take up too much space and will be simple to keep track of, that is.

I'm afraid that my version of nesting does not involve washing articles of tiny, baby-sized clothing in special detergent and then giggling as I fold them. The impending arrival of a new life has yet to inspire me to re-arrange furniture or paint the children's bedroom. In fact, I'll be doing very, very well (better than last time, honestly) if I manage to get the infant car seat our of the attic and washed before we're off to the hospital for delivery. But you can bet your bottom dollar that the spice cupboard will be in tip-top shape. And knowing a baby's coming does seem to launch in me a desperate need to get the upstairs walk-in closet emptied cleaned out.

Admittedly, I'm not quite sure of the connection.

But since when are pregnant women logical anyway?

Recovering

In the 3 weeks between Daniel's return home from Spain and our most recent departure for various destinations, I took myself off almost all modified activity restrictions. One of the things this meant was that I got to resume exercise. (Now, now, don't worry yourself. After all, I'm hardly a jogging/running sort of girl, so you can rest assured that all I was doing was walking 3-4x/week along with some light strength training utilizing cans of crushed tomatoes. And, believe me, just that felt like resuming with a vengeance after having been laid up for so many weeks.)

And then came vacation. Other than walking around parks and a little in the city, I didn't exercise a bit!

So tonight I headed out the door after dinner as my first step in getting back into what little routine I had previously established. I was feeling rather inspired between Daniel being home (which meant I didn't have to push a stroller and therefore listen to whining conversation) and the recent drop in temperature and humidity. As a matter of fact, I felt so inspired I walked farther and faster than usual.

And, boy, am I sore right about now.

I'd like to blame these achy joints solely on the fact that in the past 2+ weeks, this baby of mine has most likely gained a good pound and my body is now in the full throes of loosening and stretching, but I honestly think it has as much to do with 2 weeks of missed exercise as any of that. Isn't it funny how vacation is always so wonderful until you get home and the laundry is piled to the ceiling, the house smells musty and is dusty, the refrigerator is empty and your children are hungry, and every decent habit and discipline has completely flown out the window?

(Yeah, yeah... real funny.)

On the Road & Our Birthday Girl

We've traveled over 1,350 miles in the last 2 weeks. While in Pittsburgh, we enjoyed time spent with Daniel's family and time spent at a great youth conference, followed by time spent with my family at my aunt's house in Long Island. We went to an amusement park, celebrated a 55th anniversary, worshipped, ate out, shopped, spent an afternoon at the ocean, heard some great teaching & preaching, watched a Broadway musical, and took naps.

We also had quite the on-going birthday celebrations for our special girl. After all, who can resist throwing an early party for 2 girls who are turning 3 years old within 2 days of each other? Not the Paladin family! And when a little girl's birthday is 1 day short of being exactly 9 years after her aunt's, who can possibly try to celebrate the aunt's birthday without including the niece? Not the Sinclair family! Bronwyn has had lots of cake and "Happy Birthdays" so that her birthday celebration really became a birthweek celebration. She's just too cute to resist the opportunity!

Some things I simply love about my special girl:

-- Bronwyn is as girl as they come. She loves all things pink and frilly. Her favorite movies are Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and Beauty & The Beast. A lovely dress and pretty girl are the necessary and required ingredients for any good story, in her opinion.

-- She loves to read books with anyone who will take the time with her. And if she knows the book well, she can be found "reading" it to her baby dolls or Jackson.

-- Her most recent accomplishment is completing potty training. Our travels in the last 2 weeks definitely tested her in this and I must say that she passed with flying colors (once she got over the fact that Grandma's bathroom is okay to use, too!). I am very much enjoying having the job of toilet training officially done one more time.  *sigh of relief*

-- Bronwyn's personality is very infectious and she is awfully fun to be around! I truly think her greatest gift is simply found in her presence. She is one of the most cuddly and pleasant and silly and appreciative little girls I have ever spent time with.

the two 3-year-olds

her favorite birthday tradition!


a niece and her aunt


Princess Bronwyn

Muggy Afternoons

It's really muggy here today.

No... like, really.

Like, nobody-wants-to-eat, it's-impossible-to-sleep, water-doesn't-quench-thirst muggy.

And the thing I dislike entirely about such weather is the monumental struggle I immediately face in doing the things I need to do. (Like work isn't hard enough in the first place, right?!)

At around 4:30pm Daniel asked me why I was so miserable.

Because it's hot and sticky! Because I feel like I can't even breathe without breaking into a sweat! Because I'm so unbearably hot it's making me angry that there are people who actually say they like summer!!!

My attitude was so rotten that it made even me laugh.

Which is just what I needed to "pull myself up by my bootstraps" (Are you kidding?! I have completely bare feet!) and tell myself that I just had to deal. I finished folding the laundry and then I climbed the stairs to the rather stifling second floor where I proceeded to pack my children's suitcase with a might vengeance.

Freedom is being able to tell yourself what you will and will not do and how you will and will not feel. I'm so glad the Holy Spirit enables us to laugh at and get beyond ourselves.

Appointments

Yesterday afternoon I had my monthly prenatal appointment. This morning I had an ultrasound, followed by an appointment with a chiropractor. The stats:

My Weight: 135lbs (+23lbs this pregnancy)
My Blood Pressure: 90/60
Fundus: 30cm (+4cm from 1 month ago)
Baby's Heart Rate: 157bpm
Baby's Measurement: about a week ahead
Baby's Estimated Weight: approx. 3lbs14oz (+1.5lbs from 1 month ago)
Baby's Presentation: decidedly vertex!
Subchorionic Hematoma: approx. 3x4x4cm
My Lower Back: left pelvic area re-aligned & pain significantly reduced*

31w6d

*This morning as I crawled out of bed after a horrible night's sleep due to lower back pain, I got desperate. Tomorrow's intended 500+-mile trip was looking less and less plausible and I was feeling disappointed and frustrated with my physical condition. So I went to a highly-recommended chiropractor in O'burg and loved her! I am 100% sold on getting chiropractic help during pregnancy! And after talking with her and finding out that, yes indeed, regular 3rd trimester chiropractic work often helps cut the length of labors in half, I'm pretty certain I'll find the time and $25/visit for regular appointments until the baby arrives. Hey, I figure it's definitely worth a try!

Self-Pity and Frozen Cookies

I woke up this morning and felt very, very tired. I could tell it was going to be one of those days. You know, the kind where you have to ward off self-pity at every turn. Still, I felt ready to do battle because I've been there, done that and it's just. not. worth. it.

But then, as I was herding the kids upstairs for their afternoon nap and feeling spent and sick (have I mentioned that fleeting bouts of morning sickness have returned this trimester?), something happened. I was carrying a 25lb 18-month-old in addition to this 4-4.5lb baby who is becoming more and more an all-in-front appendage and halfway up our very steep stairs, my lower back spasmed and I almost collapsed.

It hurt.

Real bad.

I managed to get Bronwyn & Jackson sleeping and Gabriel playing quietly, and then it was time-- time to feel sorry for myself. I'm afraid there was no stopping the torrent. I was feeling badly because my body is showing the wear and tear of 4 (wonderful, I might now interject) children and I'm not even 25 years old. I was feeling badly because motherhood is strenuous and yet not very esteemed in our culture. I was feeling badly because I was in pain and there was nobody around to tell me how awful it was.

*sigh*

I know, I know. Pathetic.

And this is where the frozen treats come in.

When I got married, I got the revelation that dessert recipes are not written with 2 people in mind. Where before I'd had to at least double every recipe just so that everyone got a serving, now a single batch was far more than Daniel and I could eat in good conscience. And so I was introduced for the very first time to the concept of freezing cookies, breads, and the like. (Believe me, when you grow up in a large family, the likelihood of having cookies that need to be frozen is about as good as the likelihood of having leftovers when Mom's made london broil and salt potatoes for dinner. I never knew people froze anything besides the venison from the deer their dad killed in the fall.)

At any rate, this introduction of freezing sweets also led to the introduction of husbands who snitch cookies from the freezer whenever they think their wives aren't looking. *ahem*

Well, today, it wasn't Daniel snitching cookies from the freezer. It was me.

You see, as I was laying on the couch feeling badly for myself, it wasn't just because I was in a lot of pain but also because I hadn't had a chance to eat lunch-- and my stomach was letting me know that it was now close to 2pm. In a flash, I could picture the tupperware containers of cookies stashed in the freezer for next week's time in Pittsburgh with family. So I peeled myself up, hobbled to the kitchen, opened the freezer, and pulled out five (count 'em!) chocolate cookies when I should have cut up my daily apple and made myself a slice of whole grain toast.

They were so good (I think I like them frozen better than fresh or thawed, believe it or not) and I savored every bite as I sent them down the hatch.

But afterwards I felt like a naughty child and my soul wasn't one bit soothed. After all, the challenge of sacrifice, of putting one foot in front of the other, of serving joyfully and willingly is never met with unjustified tears and forbidden chocolate chip cookies.

And I remembed, Oh yeah... It's just. not. worth. it.


P.S. I'm not interested in pity , but if you have a suggestion for relieving lower back pain, please do share! I've been doing coldpacks and I'm forced to lay down a lot (on my side, of course) because I can hardly walk right now. But otherwise I haven't a clue of what to do.