Good things and special days

November has been full of so many good things and special days.  Three birthdays and a major holiday.  Here are some pictures.

(Note:  We are not professionals.  (Yet.)  Most of our winter pictures are indoors.  Most of these pictures are taken in the same four rooms with the same. yellow. lighting. that. drives. us. crazy. when. we. take. pictures.)

Early in the month I celebrated my 42nd birthday.  This is my last time to ever tell you my age.  Here, you are treated to a glimpse of my "chocolate on chocolate on chocolate" birthday brownie, made by the man who knows me best in this world.  Marry a man like this, girls.

(Bonus glimpse:  the crowded walls and bookshelves of a homeschooling family of 11.  Bookshelves and school supplies and original kidprints and punctuation charts EVERYWHERE!  If crowded conditions drive you crazy, don't come here.)

 Here's a random baby picture.  Gabe is 7 weeks old.  Fifty days, to be exact.  Growing way too fast.  (Try to ignore my house-robe in the background.  Focus on the monkeys.)

Mariam turned three.

An expressive three.

A really expressive three.

(Doesn't it look like Ty Pennington just yelled "Move that bus?")

Moved to tears by candles.  Imagine what she's do with a room redo.

Three.  So easy to please.

We gave her a Rosy doll.  It was a huge hit!

I wanted a soft, simple (not hard, plastic) baby that she could cuddle and sleep with.  This dolly really is great in that respect.  This mama recommends it for the three and under crowd.  They have a boy baby, too, and darker skin and hair colors.

Then, a truly huge day arrived.  Emily got her braces off!

Above is before, below is after.

Two years.  Wow.

Em's birthday fell on Thanksgiving this year.

She's wisened up, and realized that if 

she chooses to celebrate it at a later date, 

she gets TWO special days with foods that she loves.

We'll celebrate her birthday next week.  She's fifteen now. 

That's hard to believe.  It seems like SHE should be turning three.  Sigh.

My parents came to our house for Thanksgiving.  The weather was horrid with torrential rains and wind, but we really had a lovely time inside.  Here's Miss Mariam talking with Grandpa - who is thrilled to be able to drive again after two months of being a "shut-in."

I tried a few new things this year, and learned that I'm still capable of learning new tricks.  I followed the instructions of my friend Connie, and brined our turkey.  It was very tasty.  I liked the quick baking time.  I also finally conquered pie crust,  thanks to Suzanne McMinn at Chickens in the Road.  I have feared pie crust my entire life.  I sense that my life has now changed, and I will be responsible for bringing pies to every family gathering.  (Wait a minute...what have I done?  Do I want to be responsible for pies for the rest of my life?  Should I rethink this?)

And finally, in other news,  have you met the twins?

 

The post cleverly titled "Update!"

*This post (er, ramble...) brought to you courtesy of my daughter, Emily.  Truly, this blog is partially Emily's, as she takes all of the photos.   It is also by virtue of Brand New Playdoh, which provides at least an hour of entertainment and buys me some computer time from the little people.

Our family is doing well.  Gabe continues to grow and fill out nicely.  He has fat rolls on his legs  - which stands to reason.  The boy was born hungry.  He seems to always be saying, "Uh...I could eat." 

The big guys think he is losing his newborn look - and I have to agree.  He's becoming more alert, interested in things that are happening around him, even giving a few quick smiles here and there.  I love those first smiles!

Daddy and Mariam

Gabe is 5 weeks old now.  This time, since his birth, has been a good time of healing and restoration for our family.  My parents are both doing much better from their surgeries from this fall.  They are regaining strength and independence.  They still need us, of course, but it is not as intensive as it was this summer.  My father has been cleared to put weight on his foot/hip that was broken, and after 8 weeks he is finally able to drive again.  I know that it feels good to them to be able to have a bit of their lives back.

Roses from my 16 year old son, Nick.  No reason...just because he was passing the flower shop.  

It feels good to us, too, to be able to focus inwardly on our family more, to do things that we simply could not do with them over the past months.  It seems to me that I missed so much during the times of Jeff's illness, and my parent's surgeries.  The little ones grew so much during this time, and I wasn't there for it.  So now, I try to make time for trips to the park, and games, and stories, and crafts and cookies.  Sometimes, it's even just time for an extra long hug or a quick tickle.  Their little eyes light up as if they are surprised that mama does these things.  My heart is touched when Jeff says "yes" to a story or to a game after a 12 hour work day.  Our little ones are so hungry for us right now.  May God grant us the time and energy that they each need! 

Denim jacket and a tutu.  I love this....

  
 The summer was too long.  It was all necessary, but parts of it took a toll.  It is difficult to be pulled between the needs of elderly parents and young children.  Sometimes, the choice comes down to who has the most pressing needs, and we talked about this openly with the bigger kids.  We never know when we, or they, or the people they marry, or their own children some day might be the one who needs our help.  I promised them that we would do the same, would be there for them if they need us.  And they will do the same for us, and for each other, and for others as God leads them.  That's family.  That's God's family - standing strong for one another thru tough times.  Not always perfectly, sometimes messing up from exhaustion, but still...there.  We've all grown through these tough days.

And now, it just seems a time to cultivate and to restore joy, to rebuild after a time of drought and locusts.   (It's also a time of hard work and long hours to begin to pay for several major medical emergencies!)

I don't know what God has planned - but that's my hope for the next six months or so.  I want to be purposeful about our immediate family, to check the individual seams of our family garment to see who needs to be strengthened or mended (or even ironed!)    Jeff and I want to be sure each child, each individual, knows how loved and treasured they are.  We want to help them develop their interests and their talents and relationships. We're at an interesting time frame, with almost four teens!  We've got individuality and personality all over the place! 

A good friend of mine died a few weeks ago.  Her name was Mary, and she was only 47 years of age when she died of complications related to Mesothelioma.  Mary had a hard life, but she had such a beautiful spirit of gratitude.  She willingly put away bitterness and chose trust and hope thru many difficult trials.   Mary was the mother of three children, two still at home, and she mothered many more children over her life.  Her relationships were so important to her.

Mary's life and passing have brought into focus for me, once again, the need to live life now, to make the most of these days we have been given.  We can't dwell in the past, we can't count too much on days to come.  The relationships we have with our children, our loved ones, our friends - they matter.  They are worth our time and our investment.  They are worth risk, and long days, and hard work, and yes, sacrifice.  Our prayer for you, our friends, is the same as for ourselves:  joy, and healing, and restoration, and beauty in your relationships. 

Until next time.....

Distracted....

I sat down to write a post...

but this little man woke up

and I got very distracted.

Can I still get away with

only a picture?

Mothering and multi-tasking

I'm at that stage of newborn with Gabriel...if you have kids or younger siblings you'll remember...nothing gets done.  I mean nothing.  If the family is fed and some laundry is done, and in our case, school is done, well then - all is good.  Forget about extras like plucking eyebrows or vacuuming.  Those things come later, once the baby learns about sleeping in increments that surpass 15 minute spans.  Thing is - ninth time around I'm mostly okay with this.  This time will pass, I'll never get it back, and I'll scarcely remember it when it's gone.  Getting things done is over-rated, and I'm not going to spend my son's tiny days wishing that he were bigger so that the floors could be cleaner.  (I've spent plenty of children's tiny days wishing exactly that, and I'm not going to do it again.)  And yes, *disclaimer*, I do let Gabe sleep on his tummy when I'm in the room and am watching him. 

The one thing I do get  a plentitude of, and that is nursing baby and holding baby time.  Along with cherishing baby time, and melting in his softness when I rub his head time, and rolling his bead-like toes between my fingers time, I've learned that I can do a few other things while sitting and feeding him.

I read.  A lot.  I've read...9 books in 3 weeks.  (Actual novels, not just picture books, people!)

I write.  For sheer pleasure, not for public consumption.  I've written about the days leading up to Gabriel's birth.  I've written down our family's feelings and the emotions surrounding his home-bringing, the reactions the small children had to his arrival...it's for Gabe but it's also for me.  I don't want to forget.  I love to write - there's so much to record in each day.

And for me, this last one might be the ultimate in multi-tasking.  I've learned that I can also KNIT while feeding the baby.  I'm sure that enterprising or creative mothers have already learned this long ago - but it's a new skill for me.

I'm delighted.  Of course I'm making a sweater for him - it's out of a delightful, light-weight, soft merino blend by Debbie Mum.  

It's coming along quickly, I already have the back and one side of the front finished.

LOVE the wavy texture, the color pathway in this yarn.  I hope to finish the sweater up in the next week or so, then move on to a little hat and booties.  (Not sure I can do DPNs (double pointed needles) though.  It might turn out looking like I was DUI.)

Now for a little dose of reality.  Here's the scene in front of my chair while I am feeding the baby and entertaining myself with a little bit of knitting.  Consider it proof that a mother really can't do it all, nor should she necessarily try.

And the view to my side:

Some other things that I forgot

It turns out that I forget other things besides my infant's name.  (Read the post below if you don't know what I'm talking about.)

When I had baby number 8 (also known as Mariam...) I forgot clothes to bring her home in.  Oh, I had packed a bag for the baby, long before she was due.  It had everything that a newborn could need and more contained within:  diapers, wipes, t-shirts, a carefully selected incredibly tiny outfit made of pink velour, socks, EXTRA clothes and t-shirts because everyone knows that babies make great messes right when you least expect it, and - a beautiful pink sweater and hat set that I had worked on for months before her birth.  There's a picture of her wearing the sweater in my left sidebar.  Oh my.  I was just so eager to dress my new little girl and to bring her home.

The problem was....that when the time came to leave the hospital, we realized we never did pack THAT particular bag into the car.  My lovely newborn princess was carried home in her diaper and a generic long-sleeved t-shirt with the words "St Mary's" stamped down the side of the arm.

Maybe I was too proud of the baby and that sweater?  (*cough*)

This time around, with baby number 9, I made sure to grab the baby's bag and actually PUT IT IN THE CAR.  (I also noticed that someone had failed to put away the chicken from the crockpot and took the time to put it in the refrigerator.  I know, I know.  Frugal to a fault.  But I knew the family would want to actually eat at some point in the next few days.)

I have this thing at the end of every pregnancy.  Since it feels like FOREVER, I actually begin to believe that I will be pregnant FOREVER.  There's something in my warped little brain that thinks "Nah, it won't happen yet.  I couldn't actually have this baby EARLY.  Why pack my bag?  I won't pack until it REALLY happens."  Most times I pack anyway - but this time I bought the myth.

Yes...

When it really was baby time (at 37 weeks) I was not ready.  I had not packed.  (You'd think I was a beginner at this game, wouldn't you?)  While I was in labor, I did not mind at all that I had not packed, but once I'd had a few hours to recover and wanted to shower, I found myself...inconvenienced.  To top it off, Labor and Delivery had lost my clothing that I wore INTO the hospital.  I didn't even have shoes.

We had the baby at 5:38 a.m.  Since I told him I was just going to be sleeping, Jeff had gone into work.  He was at work an hour away by 9 a.m.  He couldn't bring me anything.

At some point this summer our hospital stopped giving out the "personal care" packs - you know, the ones that have shampoo, lotion, toothpaste, and the like, all tidily tucked inside your own personal emesis basin?  Yeah.  I had nothin' except for a toothbrush and some lotion from my purse.

I assessed my situation, and decided that I could "make do."  Here's what I learned:

• The hand soap that comes from the wall dispenser actually gets your teeth really, really clean.  The taste is kind of addicting, too.  Lots of foam.  I assume it's antimicrobial as well.  Bonus.
• It works as shampoo, too.  So, you have to frequently get out of the shower to get another pump of soap...you know how to rally.  It'll do.
• Hand lotion can work as conditioner, in a pinch.  It can even serve as a sort of hair spray, if it has to.  (It had to.)
• Hand lotion does NOT work well as a deoderant.

By the end of 48 hours my family had (at separate times) brought me three tubes of toothpaste and a bottle of shampoo, clean clothes and socks and shoes.  The conditioner and hairspray never did appear, nor did a razor.  I missed the razor the most.  

 And now you know why there are very few photos of me at the hospital this go-around.  (Well, that, and the fact that our camera batteries weren't charged and we were only able to take a few...)  Learn from me, ladies.  Pack your bag before you need it.  Life is coming, and you really do want to be prepared.

Gabriel's first week

 

Back in the day, when we were trying to come up with a name for this baby, our five year old Sammy suggested that we call him "The Peaceful Noodle."  Well, I don't mind telling you that his innocent suggestion made us laugh, alot, and we DID call the resident neonate "the Noodle."

Now that he's here, we still call him The Peaceful Noodle at times....because....well, he's a fairly calm newborn and sometimes he's just downright...noodle-y.  Let me stop and confess something right here and now.  This morning, Jeff and I took ourselves to church.  Alone.  Just he, and I, and the baby.  The kids are still struggling with colds and some of them have earaches, so we left the big ones in charge and went by ourselves.  It felt very odd and quite cavalier, to be so alone - two adults, with one wee child.

We settled ourselves in the back row, in two chairs near the aisle so I could leave if the baby awoke and demanded that it was time to eat.  During one of the songs a sweet lady came up to say "congratulations" and look at the baby.  She asked me all sorts of difficult questions, such as, "Is it a boy or a girl?"  (I thought it was obvious, with the blue shirt with a train on it and brown pants - but really, with a baby, who can tell?)  I answered that question okay, and felt proud of myself.  I AM sleep deprived, after all.

The questions got harder.  "What day was he born?"  I knew this one, too.  October 7th, I confidently replied.  My poor, zoning brain began to wander around the room - and right when she asked me my baby's name, it left me completely.  Maybe it went out to where they serve coffee, mmm-hmmm?

"What's his name?"

To which, I drew a complete and utter blank.

Yep.

I was grasping, calling out to my brain to return to me.  What was this kid's name?  Joseph?  Caleb?  I looked helplessly at Jeff, giving a weak "Ha Ha."

Fortunately, he covered for me.  I gave a little cough, as if something had lodged itself in my throat and I was unable to speak.  I'm sure I didn't fool anyone.

"Gabriel," he said.  His name is "Gabriel Joseph."

We turned around and had a great laugh into the noise of the music.  At least I didn't tell her his name was The Peaceful Noodle.  Ahem. 

I'll tell you - we've had a wonderful ten days since he's joined our family.  He's just loved.  Simply and profoundly loved.  I can't help but think that every child born into this world deserves to be surrounded by so much love.  It took so much work to get him here - babies are lots of effort and sacrifice  - but I am powerfully reminded that they are worth it.  A unique life, an individual, a chance for someone else to live and breathe and to "become," is always worth the work, the pain, the cost.

This journey we've been on since spring has been so hard, so arduous, so difficult, right up until his birth.  The day that I had Gabriel I had driven five hours and taken both of my parents in to see their surgeon (loading and unloading, helping my father with his broken hip up and down stairs, pushing a wheelchair, carrying his walker) and then grocery shopping, prescription drop off and pick up, banking, working in their garden, making sure they had all that they needed, etc.    In retrospect, I am so grateful to have made it home and to have my water break in the middle of the night rather than in the surgeon's office.  I have, for the most part, been able to enjoy a week and a half of a glorious baby-moon.  I've enjoyed it so much - getting to know and understand and anticipate the needs of this little individual.  I feel great, too (other than that little sleepy brain blip thing I had going this morning....) so relieved and so thankful that he is here and that we have reached this point in all of the surgeries and healing processes.  (I don't think that I ever mentioned here that my father's joint replacement didn't go so well - his hip was broken in the process.  What was supposed to be a very brief heal time turned into at least seven weeks of no weight bearing.  My mother still struggles with a lot of pain in her knee replacement, as well, in fact, we have an appointment to check that out tomorrow.)  But at least we are this far down the road.  The sun is shining, and Gabe was the prize we were able to hold at the end of the marathon.  And yes - it really DOES feel like it was a marathon.

Forgive the self-conscious look.  I do not like having my picture taken, but know that I should for the sake of family history.

And so, life goes on in our big and noisy family. We know that we have been blessed.  Once again, we look forward to the days to come.

Wishing you all much peace -

Holly

Announcing....

The birth of

Gabriel Joseph 

5:38 a.m.

October 7

8 lbs. 12 oz.

Gabriel was born at 37 weeks (and one day...)

and his labor was quick, smooth, and peaceful.

(Jeff says that I make it look too easy.  I say that is easy for him to say.)

We are all home now and Gabriel is doing fine - settling into life 

in a busy household.  He seems accustomed to the noise - it doesn't bother him 

in the least.  He is so very loved by all - he is never lacking for arms to hold him.

We give thanks to God for this wonderful little guy.

I never meant to fall off the face of the earth.

It's way past time for an update.  Every time I sit down to type, I either find that I am too tired to put words together (coherently) or I honestly don't know what to say.  At some point, friends do not want to hear friends "whine," so it seems better to just not say anything.  Sometimes, too, you just know that you are asking too much for people to understand impossible situations.  Along with all of that - many of the trials and burdens involve other people, and there really isn't much that can be shared in those instances. 

Since March (the trial and sentencing for Nick's mugging,) events have simply snowballed one right after the other.  We keep waiting for things to slow down so that we might breathe and process - but as of yet, they have not.  I know without a doubt that I should have been journaling thru all of these days, but I just have not been able to.  There is nothing left by the end of the day - nothing that will make sense, anyway.  :)  But there are certainly many lessons learned and much deep thinking and internal revolution, still much love and gratitude and sweet moments grasped in an effort to remember.  I wish I had been able to write it all down.

Fortunately, Emmie loves to take pictures.  That helps us to remember.

Having labored thru all of that, here are some of the basics from the past month or so.  (And a few pictures, too.)

Jeff has been back at work for a month.  His hip has healed well, but somehow in the midst of that healing his neck was injured.  He suffered a lot of pain, and as the pain subsided, his left arm and hand are numb and weak.  He's been seeing a chiropractor, but without much result.  He had an MRI of his neck today, so we hope to learn results soon.

I love Mariam's cheesy grin.

My mother had her surgery (a partial knee replacement) two weeks ago on August 26.  She stayed with us for about a week.  She has not recovered as quickly as she had hoped.  She is unable to handle much pain medication, so she has a lot of discomfort.  I took her into see her surgeon today, though, and she got her staples out and was able to throw out her white surgical stockings, so it was a good day.  She has needed a lot of care and a lot of help.

Dad, doing a controlled burn.  :)

 

He's a closet pyromaniac.

 My father's surgery (anterior hip replacement) is coming up in a week.  There are actually many appointments and a lot to do to get ready for such surgeries (and to follow up, as well.)  Dad is 12 years older than mom, but still in fairly good health other than his joints.  He is just wanting to get this done, to get it out of the way.  I am so thankful that one of my brothers and my sister will be able to be up to help out.  (They live 400+ hours away.)  By the time of the surgery I will be a little over 3 weeks away from the baby's  anticipated arrival - I just wasn't sure that I could handle 3 solid days and nights of hospital sitting at that point.  (And my mother won't be in any shape to be of help, either.)

Sam.  Part monkey...

 Which brings us to the happy topic of the baby.  I told my doctor that a new baby felt like the jewel at the end of the dark tunnel.  She happily agreed with me.  I am hoping/praying for a few quiet weeks to just sit still and "be," to enjoy the little guy and to rest a bit.  He and I are still doing great in terms of health, for which I am so thankful.  If anything, all of the craziness these past many months has kept me active and pushing forward - maybe it's kept me healthy.  I did show results of gestational diabetes, but since testing 4x daily with a glucometer I haven't had any high readings at home.  I just eat healthily and all has been well.  I still have to visit the fetal/maternal health specialist and have an ultrasound every two weeks, plus have blood titers drawn at the same interval - but other than being an annoying addition to the schedule, all is well.  Not even a hint of trouble.  I've been pleased in that I've only gained 9 lbs. thus far.  I think that has made me feel a lot better and healthier - and since I'm assured by the regular dr. and the fetal specialist that both baby and I are doing superbly - I guess that is okay.

...part actor.

 I think that's about it.  Oh, sure, I left out the parts about balancing school schedules with two surgeries (organization is key!) and kid's jobs and Jake starting college and the washer breaking down and the car breaking down and ear infections and impetigo and...and...and.  It's all...just life.

Ben:  "When life hands you dirt, enjoy it!  Make cookies or somethin'!"

 Thanks for sticking with us.  Thanks for being our friends.  Thanks for hoping and praying and rejoicing and weeping with us over these months.  God is with us.  He is bringing us thru.  He is carrying us when we don't think we can go on due to tiredness or discouragement.  He is (hopefully) maturing us and increasing what we are able to handle.  We are being drawn together as a family.  He is our Friend that stays close thru difficult times and lifts our heads for better days ahead.  May He be very real to you in the same ways!

This is school at our house.

School looks like this

for my high school students.

There are two of them.

They are greatly outnumbered.

(Good scholars!)

The lone middle schooler moves

outdoors:  Science, handwriting, math...

with a pumpkin holding down the page.

(That's not dirt on the table...it's paint from 

the time we built a ziggurat!)

After a reading lesson for the kindergarten kid,

the toddler quickly discards her princess dress and sparkly shoes...

 because we watered the carrots so we could pull them and

it was the first nice (not scorchingly hot)

day we've had in a long time

and sometimes little boys (and girls too) just

want to play in the mud.

And their mommy says, 

"Well...why not?"

Today, unlike most days, she can't think of a single good reason.

(She decides to classify it under a "Montessori-type" heading.)

Mud washes off,

first in the wading pool 

and second in the bathtub.

School was "had," 

reading, writing, 'rithmatic included.

And everyone, even the mommy, was very happy.

We - the Johnson Family - wish all of our friends and loved ones

a good school year - full of love, happiness, exitement over learning,

and maybe even a little mud.

And just like that, we have a name.

 Large families are a mystery to many.  Some people can't imagine how we could name so many children.  We have struggled with a name for son number 6, baby number 9, but we have finally come up with a name.

After months of deliberations, here's how it went down.

Thanks to my brother, Jeff and I had a gift card to a restaurant.  (I include that part so that my brother can feel good about his role in this.)

We bribed the older kids to watch the youngers, and made the drive to the city. 

I knew that I wanted to talk about baby names.  It was time to nail this down.  Jeff just thought he was going to have a quiet supper, where he didn't have to cut anyone's meat or jump up to give refills.

We sat down.  We ordered. 

I pulled a piece of paper and pen out of my purse and said, "Okay.  It's time.  What are we going to name this child?"  I expected this process to take a good chunk of our time.

My husband is a quiet, laid back man.  (Mostly.)

He said, "Well, what are the names we have talked about.  Remind me of the ones we both said we would be okay with."

I wrote them down, there were two.  I said them outloud.  I said them in order.  They sounded good.  They fit.

He nodded his head and said, "I can live with that."

And that was that.  Our son has a name, and since that time I've enjoyed bonding with the little guy that is rolling and kicking and making me miserable.

I was worried that we wouldn't come up with a name that we would love.  I needn't have worried.  I love this child, and I love this name.

Sorry, but it's a secret for about 8 more weeks.  I know that's cruel - but that's the way it is.  :)

After all the struggle, it was that easy.  Just like that, and we have a name.