I Chose You

(Here's a blast from the past - five years ago now, but just as true today.)

This is for every woman who ever chose a child over other options.


I could have had more time,
more house,
more room.
I chose you.



I could have had more money,
more things,
dinners out…
I chose you.



More me,
More sleep,
more freedom;
I chose you.



Less mess,
less cooking,
less laundry;
I chose you.



Less school,
less PBS,
less PBJ;
I chose you.



Because of you,
I have MORE.
More love,
more memories,
more smiles,
more delight,
more joy.

Where would I be without you?

Thanksgiving Remembrances - 2011

We had a really great Thanksgiving day.  It was just my mom and dad, Jeff and I, and the six youngest kids.  We spent the day at the farm.  I don't think we saw another vehicle all day - it's just that quiet and isolated.  Our oldest three children drove themselves up to Minnesota to visit Jeff's side of the family for the week.  The boys had a college break.

My parent's place sits inside the rim of an ancient and extinct volcano.  We literally go over a river (Wabash) and thru the woods (Shawnee National Forest) and then drive the rim of an old volcano to reach Grandmother's house.  The irony does not escape us, and someone usually sings this song as we approach their place.

The day was cloudy and the air filled with mist, but rather than dreary it felt almost magical.  The kids alternated between running up and down (and sometimes rolling) down the pasture and racing in to fling their boots in the corner by Grandma's cookstove in order to warm their hands on the woodstove.

We carried wood to keep them warm until Christmas, and hung their string of old-fashioned (with the large, bright bulbs) Christmas lights, put up the tree and did the last of the yard work until spring.

Mom baked the turkey and made the rolls, and I brought the pumpkin pies (from our own pumpkins) and stuffing.  After dinner we picked the turkey clean together and set the bones to simmer into broth on the woodstove.    We never lived close before this, so it has taken awhile - but mom and I have finally found an easy peace in our relationship.  We respect each other; I think she likes me (which is different than loves me) and finally *might* trust me to raise her grandchildren properly.  Julia played aggravation with Grandpa.  He forgot his hearing aid, so the conversation died out after awhile.

When it was time for the baby to take his nap, I stood swaying with him in the cabin's "pink room."  (Mom always calls specific rooms by the color of their carpet and bedspread.) Gabe tucked his head on my shoulder, into my neck - just so - same as every time.  He cuddled in and draped his arms around my arms; he patted me as I sang to him while the misty grey from the window invaded the room.

I am struck by the thought that although this is so familiar, and I do this every day, he is already 13 months old and very soon I won't be able to stand and hold him and rock him this same exact way.

I look around me, and see the pictures of other little boys who once slept in this room.  On the headboard, there's an 8x10 of a little boy who became a daddy a few months ago - I held his beautiful baby in my arms.  Right beside that, is the picture of another baby boy.  He's a Marine now, just arrived home from Afghanistan yesterday, in fact.

Daddy and Mama's little cabin, old, in need of updating.  Nothing special, really, but packed overflowing with memories.  Dad and I gutted this room and redid it, back when I was 12 or so.  I know every layer. 

On the shelves, on the walls, everywhere, remembrances.  Here, thru my ugly cattail oil painting, I am still alive as a seventh grader.  I keep telling mom to throw it out, she grins and refuses.  Dad's great-granddad lives on thru the steamer trunk that sits at the foot of the bed.  My brothers and sisters grin out their grade-school selves from tiny metal frames, Dad's black-and white teenaged years sit casually on an end-table in a straining, decrepit photo album.  A perpetual calendar from 1983 graces the wall.  (Two types of calendars never get taken down at my parents' places:  Those too pretty to take down and those featuring Ronald Reagan.)

I first slept side by side with my husband here in this room.  Two college students, too poor for any other honeymoon, this was our fine hotel.  (Well, he was a college student.  I had graduated two weeks before.  We dined on fried catfish and frog legs the next day on a bluff overlooking the Ohio River.)

We brought our babies here.  All nine of our babies have been patted to sleep in the "pink room."  Our homes have changed, many times.  This room has not.   Some of those babies of mine are very near flying this nest.

I cried while holding Gabe close.  Nephews, nieces, sons and daughters - growing up, building their own lives, sometimes falling down, losing their way, then finding their way again, having their own babies and hopefully remembering the foundations that are always here for them.

And my parents, doing so well, but definitely growing older.  I wonder how long we will have them, and feel again the privilege of loving and caring for people - even when the days are long and the responsibilities hard and there seems to be more than can ever be accomplished.

And I turn it over to Jesus, crying into Him, because He's the only one who has seen it all, knows it all, understands it all.  He's seen every struggle, been a part of every joy.  He's known my parents from their childhoods; known me, Jeff, all of my siblings, all of these kids - from start to finish.  He knows our best selves and He knows our mess - and right there in the "pink room" I take a few minutes to turn us all over to Him.  Only He can take these lives, these years, and redeem them - turn them to good and life and glory.

God's love endures, it always stands, it always builds.  Love remembers, loves marks time, love sets a marker for memories. 

Tonight, once we were home and the kids were all asleep, I sent my father an email.  I asked him if we should think about planting some new shade trees in the yard - Maples or Tulips or Oaks.  I reminded him that this generation of children will grow up, and they wll need shade and limbs for their own children to climb and swing from.

Love always hopes,  love looks to the future.

Homeschooling: Distractions while reading out loud.

I try to give my young readers an opportunity to read out loud to me every chance they can. Sometimes, it's hard to concentrate when the baby wants to play and keeps closing your book. But this is school at home, and it's not like everyone can go to their own cubicle (or even room) to complete every task. I've been amazed over the years at just how well the kids are able to teach themselves to handle distractions, say hello to the baby, then get back to whatever it is they were doing. Not perfectly, not every time, but mostly - and good enough. So far, all of our kids are avid readers. I'll have to get back to you about the baby.

What a deal!

I found another sticker carefully placed behind his other ear, bringing him to a grand total of .75 cents.

One year pictures...and, just conversation

Thanks for all of your suggestions,

both on-line and in-life.

I'm so glad you took the time

to stop by or to write me a note.

I'll take them to heart

and see what works.
I will say that I'm not very good at "how-to" posts
regarding parenting, usually,
because each family is different
and each child is unique.
I think it is up to the parent to
learn who their child is as an individual,
and parent accordingly.
That's actually one our jobs, to know our children
and then to guide them according to how God created them!
There are also a million parenting how-to blogs available. 
I can point you to several if you wish.  :)
But I am happy to open my heart and doors
and windows and share with you things that have worked
(or not worked....) with my children and our family.

We've been busy around here

with company over the weekend.

I'm a lousy hostess, actually -

always have been.

I enjoy company but stress waaay too much

before they come.  It was a great weekend 

filled with good conversation.  We don't get to see Jeff's side 

of the family very much, so we were thrilled to

spend time with his brother Donnie and his wife, Shelley.

Their children are grown, but they were gracious to put up with our clan.  :)
I get kind of giddy when I have real, actual grown-ups
who are captive in my house. 
I may or may not talk too much.  :)

My Dad is getting ready to have another surgery, too,

so there is some preparation for that.

(Had to include this one.  :)  Love the expression on his face.  

He was sooo done.  Can't believe my little man is one year old.

Gabe still has eyes that are two different colors.

I wonder if they'll stay that way?  I'll have to let you know...

He's a pretty big boy, around 23 pounds.  That's bigger 

than most of my children at this age.

He's into EVERYTHING, I'm thinking he's going to be a climber, too.

Life is about to get hard FUN!  :)

Nineteen

Nineteen years ago today, we became parents.  In so many ways that seems forever ago; but it also feels like yesterday. Our boy has become a man, and as it seems that a mother gradually loses the moment to speak of her grown son in terms of his babyhood, I'll do this one more time while I am still allowed.

I am usually the lens through which my children see the world, but for today, I'll be the lens through which the world sees my child.

When we found out that we were first expecting a baby, we were scared silly.  We were 23 and 24, and knew absolutely nothing about having a baby around.  We buckled him up and brought him home from the hospital, surprised that this was a legal thing to do.  Why would anyone send a baby home with such inexperienced people like us?

We managed to keep him thriving despite our misgivings, although I remember many tears in the early days.  I was not necessarily a natural at being a mother, but he, fortunately, was a natural at being a baby.  Jeff and I both had to grow into parenthood.

Jake was a wonderful baby and then little boy, so inquisitive, so smart.  He was the perfect "guinea pig" for "starter parents."  He was one of those kids who actually did what he was told, stayed where he was put, learned what he was supposed to learn (before it was introduced to him,) and even ate what he was told to eat.  He wouldn't even get off of his bed unless we told him it was okay.  (For the record, he is our only child who has felt that these are necessary things....)

When I look back at Jake's baby album, I realize how very little we had at that time.   Hmm.  We didn't know it.  He didn't know it.  We were a family and that was all that mattered.  We had a lot of love, and it was so exciting experiencing the growth of a child for the very first time, ever.  I didn't grow up around babies, so it was all new to me. 

I could get lost here and wander around forever in Jake's baby years, so let me tell you a bit about who he is today:

He is a good son.  Although he's grown, with his own work and school and responsibilities, he still makes every effort to honor his mama and his daddy.  He's never disrespectful (well, okay, only once.)  If Jeff puts a job on his list, it may take awhile, but consider it done.  And lately, he has stepped up the level of his projects.  Today he ran a new electrical wire from our top story to our basement in order to better balance the electrical load.  He is working along with Nick to gut and restore a little house we purchased in a Sheriff's sale before Jeff fell ill last year.  The guys lost quite a bit of time then, but are now back at it whenever they get a few hours of time.  He replaced the starter in his car.  Jake's got a bit of inventor about him.  I asked him to put in a little intercom system for me so that I could call kids to come down for supper at the press of a button.  He set to work - creating, drilling, wiring - and when he was finished he had wired our entire house from top to cellar with a speaker system.  It even has toggle switches so that I can choose which room I want to speak to.  I expected a small project, a box...and he gave me an entire system.  Vintage Jake.

Jake is also a Synesthete.  This means that he sees letters, words, names and numbers in color.  He sees music in color and time in spatial relationships rather than flat, like a tabletop.  Numbers have personalities.  It's a cool little quirk that has actually proven to be a great benefit to him.  It helps him remember things that he has read with almost photographic memory.

Jake has his foibles.  We all do.  He'd be the first to say so, in the interest of full disclosure.  :)  He's logical, to a fault.  Sisters, and their tears...well, he doesn't quite understand them.  He's had to work hard to develop empathy.  Computer textbooks?  Easy peasy.  Emotions?  A little more difficult.  But he is learning, and he is going to be a wonderful husband and daddy someday.  He, too, loves to give good gifts.  Provision and service - that's how he shows his love.  He is generous,  Just like his dad.

Jake's my theology buddy.  He loved being a pastor's kid, and had a really rough transition when Jeff left the pastorate.  We recommend and discuss books and blogs we're reading, or talk about the latest theological issues in the blogosphere.  I enjoy his perspective on history, theology, and current tech and science trends.   

Jake has worked for two years at the same job.  He also sponsors a little girl named Kija in Tanzania .  He's given us a gift, in Kija.  She's added so much to our lives through letters and prayers shared over the past two years.

He's also been attending a local college and working toward a computer science degree. He holds an internship with our local PBS station, working on their website.  He's really enjoying that.

He's made Dean's List all year, but that's kind of funny for me with home-schooling and all.  All of these years (14) and I finally have a kid on the Dean's List.  It tickles me, makes me want to say, "I knew he was smart!"  Ha Ha.  It's hard to describe and maybe you won't "get" that, but I'm proud of him and although it feels about 10 years too late I will tuck it in his scrapbook, anyway.

There is one particular thing that I have deeply appreciated about Jake this year.

All throughout his life, he's been given and has taken on a lot of natural responsibility.  As the oldest of nine, he's always had to think of others and look out for younger children.  He's always willingly helped out with his grandma and grandpa, too.

Jake graduated from high school last year.  He could have gone away to college - he had the freedom to make that decision.  He thought about it; he also thought about the Marines.  He even took the entry test and scored a 98%.

But when it came down to it, he made the decision to stay at home.  He chose to stay with us as a crazy and busy family for another year at least, and to go to college locally.  Emotionally, financially, mentally - he could have gone and he would have done well and he would have made it work.  At some point, the time will be right and he will know it and he will step out and away from our family.  (I can always hope that it's not too far, right?)    But for this year, he wanted to be here to watch the baby (Gabriel) grow.  He mentioned that he realized how much babies change in six months of time, and he didn't want to miss that.  He wanted to know his brother, and he wanted for his brother to know him.  I think about that sometimes, when I watch Jake with Gabriel and with the other children.  He has given them a gift - the gift of memories with him during their childhood.  What an incredible thing, that no one else could have given.  He cares for the little ones.  People decry large families, and we've learned to laugh along with those who think we are looney (for, we are!) but...a solid base, a huge support group?  Oh, goodness - that's a priceless gift, a real blessing and advantage in this world! 

Jeff and I are intensively aware of the little bubble of time that we are living in, with our parents still alive and here, our eldest and our youngest and all of our children in between still at home.  What a blessed thing this is, not to be taken lightly and not to be assumed for granted.  Things will change, of course, but this has been the start of something very, very good.

Thank you, Jake.  Thank you for the cuddles when you were little, and the hugs while you are big.  Thank you for all of the stories read and the "I love yous" before bed.   Thanks for breaking us in as parents for the other kids.  Thanks for putting up with every single one of our stages over the years.  Thank you for forgiving us when we have failed you. Thank you for growing with us, for working with us, for being such a huge part of us.  Thank you for challenging us to grow and for loving us all along the way. 

With all of our love for a lifetime and more,

Mom and Dad.

Misery loves company, but we are doing better.

I am feeling better, at least the flu/whatever it turned into is better.  I am sure the Hashimotos is still around - it does not usually go away that quickly.  :)

(Emily captured the above cloud formation tonight - I wanted you to see it.  So interesting, isn't it, the way the light is shining from behind.  I have finally purchased a little point and shoot camera for myself.  I have relied on the kids to take pictures for me for several years now - they have their own cameras and I have not had one.  They do a fabulous job, but every once in awhile I want to take a picture from my own perspective - to capture a moment, to take a picture of them, the picture takers themselves (!)  Also, I realized just how many pictures I had of deer, and butterflies...and mostly I'd prefer to take pictures of the things taking place around this house.  The boys went on a big caving expedition a couple of weeks ago, and came home with pictures of deer, buildings, and tennis shoes roasting over a camp fire.  That's it.   Nothing else.  I'm like, "Seriously?  No pictures of you, getting ready to go caving?  None of you in your gear?  Nothing at the cave entrance?  Not even a sign to the cave?"  They're like, "Nope.  Just tennis shoes."    So...from here on out, the beautiful pictures will be from Emily, the buildings, legos, and deer will be from the boys, and my pictures will be the ones featuring real-life adventures.  I have even hid the camera cord so that no one can find it.  Likely, not even I will remember where I put it by tomorrow.  Ha.)

I want you to know how much I appreciate everyone who left me a comment or a note or dropped me a letter.  I've got  some of the best friends in the world - both in real life and on line.  Friends, such as you are, are a real gift from the Lord and a genuine mercy in my life.  Thank you!  (And yes....I still intend to get letters back to each of you.  Thank you for thinking of me!)

Just a quick note about the events of yesterday, and then some pictures:

Wednesday night was horrid.  Yes, even after mothering for 19 years, and so many different children in different situations, I can say that it was truly awful.  I was sick, sick, sick - and the baby was too.  We were both feverish and this thing that seemed to start out as the flu sneakily migrated around until it seemed to be lodging in my sinuses, so that equaled pain.  Gabriel decided to picket the "open all-night, all-you-can-eat" milk diner (otherwise known as a serious nursing strike.)  I've never had a child pull such a complete, out and out nursing strike.  He went without nursing for almost a day.  I was fairly sure he had an ear infection, and that contributed to the refusal to nurse.

So, between midnight baths and pacing and rocking and crying (both of us....) and ear pain and sinus pain and not-nursing pain, we managed to sleep not a wink that night.  (How great would it be to get mastitis to go along with sinus pain and Hashimoto's?  Not!)  I tried tylenol for Gabe and he just spat it up.

Jeff is working such long hours that I could not ask him to get up with the baby.  He always has in the past, but I just can't ask him to do that now.  He drives heavy equipment now and is responsible for the safety of other people - I want him to be fully equipped the best he can be to do his job.  And the big kids were supposed to start working for a corn research facility...I couldn't get them up, either.  It was just me and the babe.  :)  I prayed all night - thanked the Lord that I knew He was with us, prayed for others who are suffering who do not have access to medical care for their babies; for mamas who rock their hot babies in huts and no air conditioning, no memory foam mattress to sink into for reprieve.  I took a big step and thanked him for the strengthening that comes thru trials, for how we learn that He is with us when we suffer.  That's not an easy thing for me to do.

I showered before everyone else the next morning, with Gabe crying outside the tub. Sometimes, you've just got to do what you've got to do.  He cried the whole time I got myself and him all ready, the diaperbag put together, documents, etc. packed and ready to go.  I generally keep things packed, but I'd been sick all week so was out of kilter.

Mothers just aren't supposed to get sick, you know?  I'm reminded of that.  There's something so wrong with the universe when a mom is sick.

We made it out the door, buckled up, drove to the convenient care.  It was hot, already 84 degrees at 7:30 in the a.m.  The front air in the van was still not working.  Feverish baby, feverish mama...no air...misery.

(I'm telling you all of this so that the next time something like this happens to you, you will remember you are not alone.)

I pulled into the convenient care parking lot, and....ta da!......

they were not open for another hour.

What to do?  Sit in a hot van?  Carry a sick kid around the 24 hour Walmart?  I was so weak and my head was about to crack open....no way!  I decided to drive across town to the other convenient care.  I was pretty sure that it opened at 8.

Twenty minutes later - only to learn that I was wrong.  Again.  It too, opened at nine.

Back to the first clinic

As I was pulling in, my cell phone rang.

It was my eldest son, Jake.  (Who, by the way, put in a new starter on one of our old cars this week.  Successfully!  Jake stepped out of his computer geek role for a few days to learn a new skill - aided by directions online, of course - but it worked and I'm so proud of my grease monkey kid.  He also made Dean's List at college last semester, but I digress....)

 
Back to the story:

Jake said, "Hey mama."
Me:  "Hey."
Jake:  "Um...Just wanted to let you know that Nick cut his hand cutting a bagel."
Me, foggy headed: "What?  How? With what? Why was he cutting a bagel?  I didn't leave bagels out..."
Jake:  "Yeah, uh, well....he cut it with a bread knife."
Me, picturing a knife like you use to spread butter on bread, thinking, Hm, how bad could this be?:  "A butter knife?  How bad?"
Jake:  "A BREAD KNIFE.  It's pretty bad."
Me:  "Like you spread butter with?  Like I keep in the kitchen drawer with the spoons?  How do you cut yourself with THAT?"
Him:  A BREAD KNIFE.  Like you CUT a loaf of bread with.  A really sharp one with jagged teeth."
Me:  "Sigh.  This is not happening.  Meet me at the West Side St. Mary's Convenient Care."

So, yes.  Three of us were in the doctor's office at the same time.  I had a sinus infection, Gabe, an ear infection, and Nick....a pretty deep cut.  It all seemed too wacky to be true.  Once again, I find myself grateful for some place to turn when we really need medical help.  Sick babies make me so sad, and I wouldn't want to sew my son's hand up all by myself.  That, and, I learned that the muscular anatomy of a hand looks actually quite cool, in a sympathetic "I know this hurts you son, but look at those muscles!" sort of way.

We made it.  We all survived.  Nick got up and went to his first day of work in the cornfield, and then on to mow three yards later in the afternoon - one handed, of course.  It was kinda pitiful to watch....but I had to admire his gumption.  Good thing he's right-handed.  (Nick turns 17 on Sunday.  Jake turns 19 on Monday.)

The kids at home were fine, thanks to big sis Emily, who held down the fort while we were all off making merry at the health care center.  I know that Josiah doesn't look happy here, but he's okay and really just  into gelling his hair into some pretty interesting styles. Julia also lost a tooth while we were gone.  The drama just does NOT stop.

We're all on the mend, doing much better tonight, all thanks and praise going to God.  That's Daddy (pretty exhausted at the end of the day, but enjoying loving on his kids....) and Gabe, who is now nine months old and happily over his nursing strike.  Thank you - for your love and concern and kind words. 

Gabriel - 8 months

I love him and his puppy dog eyes.

He loves water, and bubbles

and me...

and his daddy and all of "his kids."

Gabe's 8th month:  Sitting up on his own, picking up food, expanding his food repertoire.

He still hates all fruit except bananas....really digs carrots.  He wants to eat, but doesn't actually like most items that he tries.  He "tried" juice in a bottle - but really, I don't usually give a baby juice, and he didn't care for it anyway.  (I was really just trying to give him something new and interesting to keep him occupied in church.  It was novel and worked once - but he's asked me to never give him that stuff again.)

I can already tell that he has no plans to remain a baby.  He wants to be like everybody else.

Peer pressure, I guess.

Sigh.

He'll be off and crawling soon, and then there will be no containing him.

Gabe's first year sure has been sweet.

Baby clothing/Storage solution

It took me nine kids, but I recently came up with a new storage solution:

Where to put those pesky pants when you change a diaper?

Problem solved.  

You're welcome!

Savor

Savor, 

and

be thankful...

even 

(EVEN!)

for small things.

Every good gift 

comes from

God,

our Father!

This little ritual makes me absurdly happy.

Cloth diapering - The washing, the hanging, the drying, the folding, the stuffing....It all makes me feel calm.  Why is this?