Hattie at 6 weeks old . . .

. . . weighs 10 lbs, 7 oz and measures 22 1/4 inches.

. . . is finnicky about sleep.  But we're not great about a consistent schedule so that's probably our fault as much as hers.  We're still grasping for routine here.

. . . has not slept a single night away from us.  Her brothers and sister slept in their own rooms from the start, but their rooms were just down the hall from us.  Our bedrooms are a lot more spread out in this house so she sleeps right next to me.  I'm wondering if that's going to come back to bite us.

. . . sleeps well at night (relatively speaking) but has trouble getting back to sleep after she eats.

. . . spends way more time crying for her Mama than her siblings did.  Claire is, well, challenging these days and I often have to put Hattie down to attend to her or her brothers.  It breaks my heart, and usually only lasts for a minute or two, but she'll get so worked up that it sometimes feels like an hour.

. . . has the sweetest smiles.  They just melt my heart.  Sometimes she smiles at me and I wonder if I'll ever be able to put her in a time out.  It just seems impossible.

. . . has her big sister wrapped around her little finger.  Her brothers, too, for that matter.  Every so often, they'll get frustrated when she cries in the car, but for the most part, they're very loving and attentive.  Claire gets the most one on one time with her.  I spend a lot of time protecting her from Claire's love.

. . . seems to poop way more than her siblings.  Maybe it just seems that way, but holy cow.  I feel like I'm constantly changing her diaper.

. . . is always in pajamas.  It's just easier that way now that the weather is cool.  I have some really cute warm weather clothes that she'll never get a chance to wear, and that's a bummer.  I feel bad for not putting her in cute clothes, but that's a lot of work.

. . . had a harder time holding her head up from the beginning.  It's getting better now, but Kyle and I were both a little worried at first because she was a lot "floppier" than the other three.  At her check-up, we found out that her head is the same size as her siblings was, but her height and weight are much smaller.  The doctor said it's probably because her head was so much bigger proportionally, but that she seemed to be developing fine.

. . . does not like tummy time.  Who does, really?

. . . leaves the house every day to go to pick up or drop off siblings, her brothers' games, to the store with mom . . . she's on the go.  She rarely leaves my arms or her car seat though.  It is flu season, after all.

. . . is starting to raise her hands to try and bat at toys dangling above her.  She mostly just lays there and stares at them intensely, though.

Chicken bits in my hair

It's no secret that I love to watch TV.

Wait, no.  I take that back . . . it comes as a surprise to people who don't know me all that well, because it's a bit of a guilty pleasure that I don't advertise that much.  But if you really start to engage me in conversation, it's bound to come up and my secret is out.  Whether it be something I saw on the news or a quote from HIMYM, the truth always comes out.  Please don't judge.  Are you judging me?  If so, just keep reading, because this post has very little to do with television. 

I have a trusty DVR to keep me entertained as I work, cook . . . or breastfeed.  One of my favorite things about the first few months of my baby's life is the excuse to lock myself in a room with just her and watch whatever I'd like.  Because of my love/hate relationship with breastfeeding, this is sometimes my motivation to keep it up.  It's well documented that I think the best time of year to have a baby is right before network sweeps.

Obviously, with each subsequent child that gets more difficult.  Right now, I'm often nursing while quizzing Jack on spelling words, pondering Ben's "what if" scenarios and/or reading "Are You My Mother" to Claire for the 55,000th time.  But during those late night nursing sessions, or when Kyle's home and I get that chance to sneak away and watch something, I savor every moment.

One show I added to the lineup this time around is the Pioneer Woman's cooking show on Food Network.  I love her blog, so I was sure I'd love her show.  I can bake pretty well, but I'm not much of a chef.  Watching her in the kitchen, though, makes me think that I can do it, too.  You just throw a little of this and a little of that into the pot, give it a stir, and viola!  A culinary masterpiece!  It's truly mesmerizing. 

On last week's show, she made chicken and noodles.  As I watched her cook and create, I was inspired.  It seemed so simple. In a moment of pure stupidity, I added it to my menu as tonight's dinner.  Why would anyone with a newborn add to her menu a meal that requires more than heating and serving?  I really don't remember how it happened.  I'll just blame Hattie.

The recipe calls for a whole chicken already cut up. They didn't have that at our local grocery stores.  I probably could have looked harder and found one, but when your baby is on a feeding schedule, and your grocery shopping trips have a very specific time limit, you take what you can get.

I asked the guy at the store if it was pretty easy to cut them up.  He looked me up and down and replied, "For me?  Yeah." 

Um, excuse me?  Challenge accepted, buddy.

I asked google for information on "how to cut up a whole chicken" and found this tutorial from the New York Times Food section that made it look so simple. Just cut here, and pop there . . . it just kind of came apart for the lady in the video.  Oddly enough, it didn't do that for me.  The fat lines are not, in fact, a "grid for where to cut", and the joints do not just "appear" when I pop bones certain directions.  That tutorial is full of lies and I'm vowing here and now to never subscribe to the NY Times. 

It was a disaster.  At one point, I considered chucking the whole thing and making something else, but this chicken gave its life for our sustenance and it would be totally ungrateful to just waste it (see that right there . . . that's from watching too much Naked and Afraid).  I got the legs off (kind of) and then just decided to throw the whole thing in the pot, NOT cut up, to see what happened.

I let the whole thing boil, and it seemed to be working out okay.  When it came time to take it out of the pot and shred the meat, I grabbed a slotted spoon that I THOUGHT would be strong enough to support the chicken, but as I was lifting it out of the pot . . . SPLASH.  That sucker fell right back into the broth, leaving my whole kitchen, and me, covered in little bits of chicken.  And chicken fat  Oh, and not to mention . . . boiling hot water.  You don't realize how greasy chicken is until you're having to wipe it off of your floor, cupboard doors and counter tops. And let's not forget that moms of littles don't get to take showers whenever they feel like it.  In fact, this post was inspired a few minutes ago when I pulled a tiny bit of chicken out of my hair. 

The meal was tasty and Jack even asked to take the leftovers in his lunch. So all's well that ends well, am I right? 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take the first of the 1,000 showers that it will take to get the chicken smell off of me.

Hattie's birth story . . . part 1

I should be sleeping right now.  Right?  I have four kids, a job, a business to run and I moved into a new house last month.  Oh, and a newborn.  So sleep is what I should be doing.  I'm well aware.

But it's been more than a month since Hattie's arrival and I've written nothing about it.  Or about her.  This leaves me feeling a little bit guilty, but mostly sad.  These days have been no less meaningful than the days after her brothers and sister were born.  I'm as in love with her as I was her siblings.  Isn't that amazing?  That having more children divides my time by 4, but multiplies my love by 4,000?  She is so precious.  That said, my blogging time is still much less available.

If nothing else, I do need to tell about her birth day.  The details are already starting to get foggy - something I didn't think would be possible.  But I won't get ahead of myself . . .

This is going to be detailed, because it's for me more than anyone else.  I want to remember.  Her story isn't all that dramatic or unusual, but it's significant to me.  Delivering her into this world was just as life changing and important as it was the first three times I did it.

So here we go . . . on Monday, the 25th, I did something to my back that made it really, really hard to stand up straight.  It felt like I'd pinched a nerve in my back and I was kind of hunched as I walked for the first 10 - 15 steps after I stood up.  In retrospect, I think the baby had just dropped.  Even so, Kyle and I decided that we needed to go furniture shopping.  Our old furniture in our new house just wasn't working, and we'd had it for 10 years.  It was time.  We'd tried to go once before with the kids along, but I just couldn't focus.  Imagine that.  So this time it was just the two of us.

The salesman made me want to walk out the door from the moment I walked in.  He glanced at my swollen belly and said, "WHOA!  Shouldn't you be home?  Wow!  I can't believe it!"  Literally those words, with a level of shock in his voice that was . . . well, it was weird.  Apparently he'd never seen a pregnant woman before.

I share that story, because it kind of sums up the last 4 months of my pregnancy.  Starting in June, people said things about my appearance that were so rude and offensive.  I get it . . . I don't carry babies gracefully.  I get huge and swollen.  But it's not like I'm a tiny person to begin with.  I just don't understand why people feel that it's not offensive to make comments like that to pregnant women.  Ok, I'm done with that.

We didn't find furniture and I wasn't really in a decision-making mood because of the back pain.  I went to bed that night with what felt like a pinched nerve in my back, and no decisions on furniture.

I'd only been sleeping 2- 3 hours each night because of the pain from carpal tunnel (something I'm still dealing with pretty severely), so it wasn't a surprise when I woke up around 3. I went to the bathroom and noticed that my pants were damp.  I wondered for a moment if my water had broken.  I wasn't having any gushing and the bed wasn't soaked.  My pants were just damp.  I wondered if I was just thinning out . . . if you've had babies, you know how that goes. 

I went to the living room and sat down and thought about how if she came that day, she'd arrive on her actual due date AND share a birthday with her dad.  HER DAD!  It was Kyle's birthday.  I had no big breakfast planned and no gift.  As I was trying to think through what I should do for him, I realized that I had leaked through again.   So, I went to the bedroom and said, "Happy birthday, Kyle.  I'm calling triage."  Because really?  Who can top the gift of your wife pushing out a baby on your birthday?  No one . . . that's who.

I spent that morning cutting vinyl letters for over the girls' beds.

So I called triage and the midwife on call wanted me to come in, but I told her I'd wait it out.  The one thing I did NOT want was to sit at the hospital waiting for labor to begin.  That happened with Jack and Claire and it was not fun.  Bennett's labor and delivery was my favorite and I really, really wanted it to go like that.  I wanted to labor at home for as long as possible and then head to the hospital.  And I wasn't even 100% sure if my water had broken.  After all, maybe I'd just wet my pants. She reluctantly agreed as long as I was still feeling good movement from the baby.  About an hour later, I had my first contraction. 

The (very early) morning of the 26th

Contractions were weird and very sporadic.  Nothing really time-able.  Nonetheless, we decided to head to the hospital just to be checked, but not before another walk through at the furniture store.  We took the kids to camp to hang out with Kendra for the morning and arranged for Kyle's mom to pick them up at lunch.  Then we came home and did things like, you know, pack our bags, take the car seat out of the box,etc.  All of the things that one should do long before her due date.  But let me remind you. . . we'd moved into our house (from a trailer) two weeks earlier and were literally living out of boxes.

We packed up and headed out.  We hit the furniture store, Target and then sat down to eat a birthday lunch at Outback.  I was having contractions every 15 - 20 minutes at that point, but when we started eating, they were coming every 5 - 6 minutes.  I made a comment that I wasn't sure that we'd make it through lunch.  As soon as the words left my mouth, the contractions stopped.


When we got to the hospital, the contractions were back to being sporadic, I was just barely dilated, and the test to find out whether my water was broken was inconclusive.  I was pretty sure she'd send me home.  However, my midwife did an ultrasound and found that my fluid was low, so either my water had broken, or my placenta wasn't doing it's job.  It was around 4:00 PM that they decided to keep me.

I started balling.  I was being admitted and labor wasn't really progressing.  This was the opposite of what I wanted to happen.  I just wanted to go home and wait.  I wanted to put my kids to bed, and keep unpacking boxes until the baby was ready to come.  Around that time there was a huge storm rolling through and there were announcements that we were under some sort of warning.  I barely remember it because I was so enthralled in my little pity party.

To be continued . . .

On pregnancy #4

I'm sitting here, feeling contractions and knowing that this baby girl will likely come today or tomorrow and feeling panicked because I haven't recorded much about this pregnancy.  I suppose it's to be expected by baby #4 . . . there's no time to sit down and write.

I've had as much, if not more, swelling with this pregnancy than I did with Jack's.  I didn't have much swelling or carpal tunnel issues with Ben or Claire.  But this time around it's awful.  I think it was exacerbated by all of the painting . . . I'm not sure it would be this bad otherwise.

I'm so excited to meet Hattie and to not be pregnant, but I'm really, really sad for this pregnancy to be over.  It's my last, and I feel like I'm saying goodbye to an old friend.  Part of me is elated that I'll NEVER HAVE TO DO THIS AGAIN!  Another part of me is so sad that I'll never GET to do this again.

I've been much more relaxed with this pregnancy, likely because I've been so consumed with busyness and moving that I haven't had much time to think about anything else.  I feel like Hattie moves less than the others did at this stage, but it might just be that I sit still less than I did at this stage with the others.

Watching Jack, Ben and Claire prepare for a new sister has been fun.  Claire calls all of her dolls "Hattie" and "baby sister."  She bathes them, changes their diaper and is overall pretty gentle and loving.  I hope it stays that way!

Jack has become pretty helpful, and won't let me carry anything.  Even pizza boxes.  I think he's seen Kyle take care of me in that way and feels like he should, too.

Every time I ask or tell Bennett to do something, he says, "Because you're pregnant?"  It's funny.

All three of them hug and kiss my belly.  They talk to Hattie and laugh when she moves.  When Claire asks Hattie questions like, "Do you love your big sister?" I'll gasp and say, "She just shook her tushie!" and Claire cracks up like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard.

I've had a LOT of trouble sleeping over the last 2 weeks, mainly because my hands hurt so bad from the carpal tunnel.  On the bright side I've had lots of extra time to paint, unpack, etc.

I'm so excited to meet this little girl, and while being pregnant isn't my favorite, I feel so, so fortunate to have the privilege of carrying her.

Backing up

We're in our new house!

But let's back up a little.  We were out of our old house on the 26th.  That last night was an emotional one.  I watched Claire fall to sleep in her crib for the last time and then tucked the boys into their bunk beds.  Jack was openly emotional, but Ben was just struggling to keep it together.  Kyle and I were both overwhelmed with nostalgia and spent time talking about our years at 11534 Hillary Drive.

We are SO fortunate to have as many friends and family as we do who were able to help us move.  Our small group came on Friday to help us pack up our uhaul and take it to storage.  On Saturday, quite a few of our summer staff came to help us pack up the last of our belongings.

We took the kids to my parents that night, and Kyle and I got the trailer ready to live in.  We're so grateful that Kyle's parents let us use their trailer, so that we didn't have to rent anything.

That first morning, we woke up, and I just sat on the edge of the bed and cried.  Like, ugly cried.  I was just so sad to leave our home, and so uncertain about when we'd move into our new house.  At some point during that next week, our closing was moved to "on or before August 21."

We cleaned out the house over the next few days, and both Kyle and I were emotional about leaving.  We came into that house as a couple and left as a family of 5 1/2.  We have so many memories there, but now most of our kids' memories will be in a new place.

We were in the trailer for a little more than 2 weeks.  There were good times and bad times, for sure.  Bedtime was rough because they all just wanted to play.  Claire didn't sleep well, and when she woke up, EVERYONE was awake.  On the second night, she woke up around 4, so she and I went for a drive.  We went to Walmart and were the first in line when Starbucks opened that morning.

I didn't sleep well.  A little because we were in a trailer, but mostly because I'm pregnant.  At home, I'd watch tv or do laundry, but in the trailer I couldn't move without waking someone up.

We did have good times.  It was nice to be together as a family and enjoy living at camp.  It was almost like a little "reset."  We weren't packing.  We weren't unpacking.  It was just some in between time.

We closed on our house on August 4, and the previous owners were out on August 9 . . . my 36th birthday.  We spent my birthday sitting around waiting for the call that they'd moved out.  As soon as Kyle got that text, we loaded up and headed to the house.  The kids hadn't seen it before and it was so fun to watch them run around and explore.

It's been a little more than 2 weeks, and we're feeling semi-settled.  Most of our belongings are in boxes, but the bedrooms are unpacked and livable, which was what I'd hoped to accomplish pre-baby.

Delays

Our original closing date on our new house was July 25.  Last Friday.  Alas, we have not closed on our new house.

It was pushed to August 1.  One week isn't a big deal . . . unless you're 36 weeks pregnant.  I feel like I'm a ticking time bomb.

And then over the weekend, we found that it might be pushed even farther.  There are a few annoying factors that go into the delays, none of which are in our control.  Let's just say that I wish that each person responsible for the closing of this deal were required to sleep with Claire in this trailer every night.  That would get things moving.

I don't know how many times I've offered the "please help things go smoothly" prayer over the last month.  Probably hundreds.

On Friday night, shortly after learning about the most recent delay, we were driving to return our uhaul as I began to cry and ask God to just push this thing through.  That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks:  I'm not sure God's as worried about the progress of our mortgage as much as He's concerned with the state of my heart.  Maybe none of this is about getting our family into a house before baby #4 comes.  Maybe it's all about learning to trust Him, and know that He's ultimately in control.  Maybe this is about surrender.

Kyle and I stayed in the trailer for the first time Saturday night.  The kids were at my parents.  I woke up around 5:30 and was doing my best to not completely lose it.  By 6:00, I'd decided that I'd better just let it all out while the kids aren't here, and cried for about an hour.  My sobs eventually woke Kyle up and we decided to go for breakfast.  The whole day ended up being kind of a disaster, and the emotion of being at the house for the last time added to it.

I'm trying to hard to just trust God, but when I'm driving around with my 2-year-old AT 4  in the morning so that she won't wake her brothers up in the trailer we're all sharing, all I can do is cry.  But my prayers have changed.  When I worry, I pray that he'll use this to increase my dependance on Him.  When I stress out, I pray for peace.  When I hear about more delays, I pray for patience with our current living situation.  The house will close when the house closes, no matter how much I stress out or worry about it.

The nursery

I sat in Claire's room and watched her fall asleep in her crib for the last time on Friday afternoon.  As I did, I cried thinking about the number of times I've watched my kids fall asleep there.  The number of times I've rocked my babies to sleep in there.  The number of hymns I've sung, the number of diapers I've changed, the number of outfits I've changed.

That room was green, with an airplane theme when Jack came home from the hospital.  I so badly wanted the room to be perfect.  I had everything ready.

The planes were still up when Bennett came home, but by the time he was 6ish months old, it was painted light blue and had a rocket/space theme.  I started designing artwork for the walls, but Claire came along before I ever finished it.

For Claire, we painted it gray.  Twice.  The first gray looked too purple.  We used pink and gray as the colors, and again, I have half finished artwork that I would have hung in there.

I remember before Jack was born, sitting in there and wondering what it would be like to rock a baby to sleep.  I've spent hundreds of hours in that room praying for them and dreaming about who they'll be come someday.  It's always been a place for cuddling and caring for whoever happened to be living in that room at the time.

The bowling alley

One of the things I don't want to forget about this house is the bowling alley.

This photo is taken from the doorway of our bedroom.  Claire's room is at the very end of the hall and the boys' room is the second door on the right. 

We nicknamed it "the bowling alley" because of the sounds we'd hear out there every morning, especially in the winter when the whole house was still dark.  One or two of them would get out of bed and sprint down the hall to our room. The sound that they would make when they got out of bed reminded us of being at a bowling alley.  They'd get a running start from their doorway and then would crash into our bedroom door to open it . . . rarely turning the knob.  We'd hear a door creak and then, "BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM CRASH!"

The sound wasn't always welcome.  Often we'd groan when we heard the creaking door and the foot steps winding up for the crash, but it's one of those things we've become so familiar with and one of those things I don't want to forget.

Shopping with Mama

Claire and I had to run errands in town yesterday, and we honestly had a lot of fun.  It's hard to believe that a couple of months ago, I dreaded going anywhere with her in the car because she would scream the entire time.

Our first stop was at Sam's Club and I got her a soft pretzel for a snack, which was a big deal because her brothers weren't there so she didn't have to share.  Of course, she only ate about 3 bites, but still . . . there was no sharing involved so she was happy.

From there, we went to Walmart.  In general, I avoid Walmart, but it's the easiest place to make purchases at for camp.  I'd been warned by some shoppers at Sam's Club that the air conditioning was out, and it was, but the temperatures weren't as bad as I'd anticipated.

We had a rather long list and Claire was relatively patient while we searched for everything.  She was doing a lot of yelling, so we talked quite a bit about indoor and outdoor voices, but she was pretty set on using her outside voice for everything.

We filled our cart and got in line at check out.  As we waited, I noticed her staring at the back of woman ahead of us.  I looked up at the woman and then looked back at Claire and could just see the wheels turning.  Everything at that point seemed to be moving in slow motion.  Before I could distract her, she laughed and said (in an outside voice, of course), "HA! HA!  I SEE YOUR UNDIES!"  It was in the exact same tone and with the same level of joy in which she hears her brothers tease each other.  Perfect.

Fortunately, the women in front of us had a good sense of humor.  She pulled down her shirt a little in the back and we all laughed . . . my face a little more red than the others.

We had two separate orders on the belt.  I paid for them both, loaded them into the cart and we started toward the exit.  Claire noticed that the large bags of bird seed and the gallon of milk weren't in shopping bags and said (again, in an outside voice), "WE DIDN'T PAY FOR THIS STUFF!"

I assured her that we did and pointed to the receipts that I had let her hold . . . but she's 2 1/2, so if it's not in a bag, it's not paid for.  She continued to yell, "WE DIDN'T PAY FOR THIS STUFF!  WE DIDN'T PAY FOR THIS STUFF!" while I waved the receipts and laughed nervously as bypassers stared, wondering who was telling the truth.  We approached the exit and Claire got very serious and wide-eyed and looked at the greeter and whispered, "WE DIDN'T PAY FOR THIS STUFF!"  He just laughed as I nervously waved my receipts, assuring him that we'd paid for everything in my cart.

I can laugh about it now.  Actually, I was laughing all the way out to the car.  It was mildly embarrassing, and very amusing.  I'll take this kind of thing over screaming and fits any day!

Where we're at right now . . .

June/July 2014 has been the most stressful time in my life thus far.  I realize that this makes me pretty fortunate . . . if this is as stressful as it gets, I'll consider myself lucky.  Nonetheless, it's been a lot to handle.  The sentimentality over moving our family out of our home, the pressure of trying to get packed up, the busyness at work, the anxiety about living in a trailer for a few weeks, the uncertainty of when we'll close on our new house, the apprehension about baby #4 . . . it's all catching up with me this morning.  Here's what's going on with us right now:

Musical Houses.  We currently don't own a home, and that's just weird.  We closed on the sale of our house on June 30 and we have to be out by July 30.  We're in contract on a new house in Spring Arbor, and aren't sure of a closing date.  As you can imagine, this is stressful.  I think I'll be able to calm down a little when we have that settled.  We have a trailer set up at camp and are moving over the course of the next two Saturdays.  Once we close, the owners will have 7 days to be out. We'll stay in the trailer until we close on and gain occupancy to our new house.  I've been so nervous about things with the new house falling through.  I really have no reason to think that, but my mind always goes to the worst case scenario.  It's just a gift I have.

The state of our house is like nothing I've ever lived in before.  Boxes everywhere, laundry piled in corners, the kitchen is empty, but we have paper plates, dishes and snacks out on the counter . . . it's a mess. Living in a state of chaos has always stressed me out, but the fact that I can't just go clean up is maddening.  I'm on a no-lift restriction which is a little unrealistic, given that I have a 2 1/2 year old that often ONLY wants Mom.

Getting ready to leave our house has been so emotionally taxing.  We're the only family to ever have lived here and it's all our kids have ever known.  It breaks my heart to think that Claire will have no recollection of this home and Ben's memory will be spotty.  Jack will remember the most, but those memories will start to fade.  This home has been such an important part of our life, and leaving is tearing me apart.

Packing up.  We have a lot of stuff.  I don't know how that happened, but I've decided that from here on out, we'll pretend to get ready to move once every 3 years to help with clutter control.  The craziest thing is the furniture that we managed to get INTO the basement, that we're having trouble getting out now.  We're having to move all of our belongings into 3 storage units until we have occupancy of our house.  So we get to move twice.  Lucky us.

I so badly wish we could afford to higher packers and movers.  That would be lovely.

The Summer.  We are currently in the middle of our busiest time of the entire year.  Right now.  In the middle of a very stressful move.  It's fun how that came together like that, right?  Our patience is so thin and our nerves are fried.  I'm finding myself responding to people, my children included, in ways that I'm not proud of.  Doing our jobs well during a normal summer is a lot of work, but this summer it's even more so.  On top of normal summer stuff, I'm trying to prepare for maternity leave this fall and get all of my late August/September projects done now.

We're also having to think through how things will work at camp with us living about 20 minutes away, instead of 5 minutes away.  I don't think it will affect our actual work day all that much, but it might affect how often we eat meals at camp, or just go there to let the kids run around.  It's just going to be a change in how we operate as a family, and that's hard for me to wrap my head around.

The Baby.  I woke up a couple of mornings ago and said, "I feel WAY more pregnant than I did when I went to sleep last night."  I have 5 1/2 weeks left until my due date, and even though I feel huge, I so badly want to be settled into a home before this little girl arrives; but, all of the golf carts at camp are out of order, so I've been doing a lot of walking and I can just feel her starting to drop.  Never have I wanted a baby to come after her due date like I have with this one.  I haven't been sleeping more than 3 - 4 hours a night, which adds to my lack of patience and energy.  She moved SO much . . . more than the other three . . . but she's slowed down in the last few days.

I had an appointment on Thursday and found out that she's flipped and is no longer head down.  As you can imagine, this has stressed me out.  I'm praying that she gets her little behind back where it belongs before labor starts.

My vision has been getting really blurry and I'm becoming nearsighted.  I know this is a common side effect of pregnancy, but I've never experienced it before.  Just one more thing.


The Kids.  This week I'm realizing how much all of the impending change and uncertainty is affecting them.  They know that their lives are about to change quite a bit . . . not just moving houses, but moving farther away from camp.  I don't think I've thought enough about how they're affected by this.  Plus, they've been getting to bed 2 - 3 hours past bedtime every night.  Lack of sleep is really affecting our entire family right now!

I've not been the model of excellent parenting, and they've been yelled at for little things way more than they should have been.  Last night, in the middle of me giving them instructions for bedtime, Jack asked for a glass of water and I said, "CAN YOU PLEASE THINK OF SOMEONE ELSE FOR JUST ONE MINUTE!"  Let me say this again:  He asked me for a glass of water.  He was just thirsty.  And he's 7-years-old.  

I find myself praying daily that they'll not remember this time all that clearly and that no permanent damage will be done to my relationship with them.  I've done A LOT of apologizing and even more crying in front of them.

After I put the kids to bed, Jack came into our room crying and told me he didn't really want to move.  He feels the same way about change that I do . . . sad.  It's hard, too, because I don't want to get them all pumped up about our new house until we have a closing date. We talked about how the only thing that makes our house special is that we all live here, and that once we're not here, it won't really be all that special anymore.  I only half believed myself.

Praying.  I've been praying so much.  Praying that we close soon and smoothly on our new home.  Praying that my kids won't be damaged by this move.  Praying that I'll be able to sleep in a camper.  Praying that Claire won't flip out when we have to shower in the Field House every day for a few weeks.  Praying that this baby stays put for a little while longer.

Most of all, I'm praying that this will be a good change for our family . . . something that will bring us closer and that God will use for His good and will draw us closer to Him through it.

Grandpa Luke

I'm so proud to have called Bill Luke "grandpa" for 11 1/2 years. He loved his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren so well. Words can't express how thankful I am for the legacy he left and the forever-impact that it's had on our family. We're thankful that he's healed, whole and with Jesus, but we miss him tremendously.

He passed away on Father's Day.  He had the ultimate Father's Day with his heavenly Father, I suppose.  It's still hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that he's gone.  His trailer still sits on his campsite at camp, and I catch myself glancing over to see if he's sitting out in his lounge chair.



I think his passing will really sink in for me during Family Camp when he's not hauling coffee to the tents and I don't have him down the hall from my office counting offering or calling me with service attendance numbers.

Long before Kyle and I were married, engaged or even dating, I referred to his grandpa as "Gramps."  Everyone who worked at camp did.  Back then, he and grandma took care of all of the gardening and flowers, but I think their primary role was getting to know the staff and making us all feel loved.

My grandpas and one of my grandmas passed away before Kyle and I were married.  My Grandpa Haskin died when I was 4, my grandma Haskin died when I was 11, and my Grandpa Wietholter died a few months before Kyle and I were engaged.  So when I joined Kyle's family, I was more than thankful for another set of grandparents.  And from day one, I felt like I was one of their own.

One of my favorite memories about Grandpa Luke might be the night Kyle and I got engaged. He was so excited for us . . . but he kept telling everyone, "I'm going to be a great grandpa!" We had to keep reminding him that sharing the news that way was going to give people the wrong idea, but it didn't stop him. He was just so proud he was of his grandchildren and was just as proud (5 years later) of his great grandchildren.

We remembered Grandpa Luke at a memorial service yesterday and it was beautiful.  It was packed out with people who had been influenced by Kyle's grandparents in some way.  I was so overwhelmed with the fact that there was no mistake as to what Grandpa Luke's life was all about.

Kyle and I talked on the way home about his grandpa's legacy and how we can be intentional about passing that on to our children.  How can we live in a way that leaves them with no questions about what our lives are about?  We're grateful for Grandpa's life, and for how much he loved Jesus.  We're thankful for the example he and Grandma set in their 60 years of marriage and his faithfulness to her, even as her memory has faded over the last few years and she was moved to a nursing home.

We gave the option of whether or not to come into the service with us and he chose to.  It was very emotional for him, but I'm glad that he did.  I'm thankful that he got to hear about his great grandpa and the things that were important to him.  I ended up having to get up and sit in the back with Claire because she wasn't all that excited about staying in the nursery, so I'm glad that Kyle had Jack there with him. 

When we sang "How Great Thou Art" Claire's eyes lit up and she said, "I LOVE THIS SONG!"  And then we we closed with the doxology, she belted it out just like she does at bedtime. Claire will have no memory of Grandpa Luke, and Ben's memories will be sparse, but the legacy he left for them will be something that we never let them forget.

Home

This living room is where Ben and Claire both took their first steps.  Ben started from the wall under the pictures and toddled across to the wall with the sliding door.  With Claire, the Christmas tree was up in the corner, and we were giving her ornaments to carry for the few steps that it took her to get there.

This living room is where I have my most vivid memory of bringing Jack home . . . Kyle holding him while Murphy (our dog) jumped up trying to get a peek at her new little friend.

My kids played here while I made dinner.  I dug toys out from under the chairs and loveseat almost every night.  Kyle and I sat in this room after the kids were in bed on so many evenings . . . sometimes laughing and sometimes crying. 

I remember laying on the floor next to the fireplace when I was pregnant with Jack and finding out the hard way how hot the glass is . . . which led us to purchase that screen the very next day.

I remember sitting in the arm chairs and nursing each of my babies late at night.  I remember watching movies with my mom there when she stayed with me after Jack was born.

Looking at this room, I see kids hunched over those bins in the corner, digging through the toys to find the one they want, while the toys they toss aside make music or siren noises.

I see each of my kids as babies, laying on a blanket in the middle of the floor, or under a baby gym.

I see our small group meeting while our kids play in the basement, and I can almost smell the coffee brewing.

In about a month, this living room will be a memory. Last week, only 10 days after listing our house, we signed a purchase agreement.  Done. Sold.  In a week or so, we'll close and then we have to be out in 30 days.  We've lived here for 9.5 years and I really did think that we'd be here forever.  I love this house.  It's crowded, but still . . . I love it.  I'm so sad to leave.

But I know that it's what we need to do.  I'm praying that something opens up soon, because the pickings are slim right now.  We've seen a few that we like, but nothing we've loved.  I've looked at every listing in Jackson County and refresh my realtor.com app at least once an hour.  I'm doing my best not to panic.

Meanwhile, you can expect more of these sentimental posts about this house and how much I'll miss it.

Things are looking up . . .

The first three days of this week have contained more good than the previous two weeks combined.  I'm so thankful, because at the end of last week, I was nearing the end of my rope.  Here are a few highlights:

• The brighter mornings mean that I've woken on my own more easily.  Sure, I'm still only getting 4 - 5 hours of sleep because I'm crazy busy, but being up before the kids makes a huge difference in how my day goes.
  
• Mother's Day was so much better than I had expected.  We had a great brunch with Kyle's family, and the restaurant was VERY kid friendly.  I don't know if I was exceptionally hungry or if the food was exceptionally good, but either way, I really enjoyed it.  It was close to 80 on Sunday and I loved every second of it.  I still had to do grocery shopping and meal planning for the week, but making my list out on the deck seemed less like work. 
  
• Monday and Tuesday were very warm, too.  The kind of warm that leaves you sticky and hot all day.  You will NEVER hear me complain about that.
  
• We had a great conversation with a new realtor today that was encouraging and so, so educational.  I think we'll still go ahead with listing our house.  So much has to go right and happen in the right timing, but I'm less worried.  Fingers crossed.
  
• I've been able to check some things off of my to do list.  There were a few things that I forgot to put on my list, so I put them on and then checked them off right away.  If they don't show up in the "completed" list, they don't count.  I had to do it, right?
   
•  Baby #4 is crazy active.  She moves so much and I love just sitting and feeling and watching her movements.  All three kids have felt her move now.  When I was pregnant with Claire, I was constantly sad about her being my last and everything being my "last" experience.  It's not like that this time.  I'm very comfortable with this baby being my last baby, and I'm really enjoying feeling her move and grow.
  
• However, I'm not enjoying everything about this pregnancy.  I don't like being pregnant, in general.  I just feel achy and bloated.  Nothing fits well, and I can't ever really get comfortable.  It's worth every minute, though.
  
• I had some errands to run after picking Jack up from school yesterday, so I took all three kids out for ice cream after.  It was fun just hanging out with the three of them.  I can't believe they're all mine.
  
• We made barbecue chicken pizza on the grill last night.  What's not to love about that?

Dear Claire, Month 34-35

Dear Claire,

When people describe you, the word "expressive" is used most often.  You are THE most expressive little girl I've ever met.  When you're excited, it shows all over your face.  When you're upset, everyone knows.  As much as I hate to perpetuate the "girls are more dramatic" stereotype, there's no denying it with you.

One of my favorite things to do with you is sing.  We sing hymns together every night.  Your brothers would always sing along, but you SING LOUD!  You won't sing in front of other people, but when it's just the two of us, you don't hold back.

You're talking now.  Like, for real talking.  Not just words or phrases.  Full sentences and paragraphs.  It happened at some point this winter, and seemingly overnight.  This has increased your ability to have fun with your brothers.  Sometimes in the car, you'll just look at Ben, laugh and say, "Be funny, Ben!"  You love all of the faces and noises that he makes just to make you laugh.

When I ask you your name, you usually respond, "Sara Luke" or "Kyle Luke."  And then you laugh your head off like you've just made the most hilarious joke ever.  I'll give you a look and you'll say, "I called me Sara!" or "Your name is not Mama!  It's Claire Bear!"  You sure have perfected the art of 2-year0-old silliness.

You have developed a HUGE fear of bugs.  Something happened last weekend that set you off, and now I have trouble getting you out the door.  We searched your body for a sting, but didn't see anything. I don't know if a bug landed on you or if you just saw something that concerned you, but now, if you see so much as a gnat from 10 feet away, you're climbing up my body like a monkey up a tree and crying like you've been attacked by something much larger than you.  In the bath last night, you started screaming and I panicked for a second.  I looked over and you were huddled in a corner of the tub pointing and a piece of fuzz floating in the water that you thought was a bug.  This fear could make for a VERY long summer.

To be honest, it reminds me of how you are around dogs.  If you so much as see one (even on a leash) from a distance, you FREAK OUT.  I hate to admit that this probably all comes directly from my gene pool, because I was the same way.

When you're freaking out about bugs and dogs, it's sometimes hard for me to be patient.  I want to just say, "Stop it!  You're fine!"   But the truth is that you're not fine.  You're scared.  It's ok to be scared.  While I can't rid your life of dogs and bugs forever, I can promise that I'll hold you when you're scared and help you to overcome your fears.  I will take your fears seriously, no matter how trivial or irrational they may seem to outsiders. 

You are both a joy and a challenge, Claire Bear.  You still love cuddling with me and reading with me.  Sometimes I just sit and watch you play or pretend, in awe of the fact that you are MY daughter.  MINE.  Words can't even describe how amazing I think you are, and how much I love you.  Being your mom is a privilege and a blessing.

Love,
Mama

The worst weeks

The last two weeks have been my worst weeks.  I've been trying to think objectively about whether they've been mostly the result of circumstances, pregnancy hormones, the crazy time of year or fatigue.  I'm sure it's the combination of all four.  In any case, they've been really bad.

We started getting our house ready to sell (which is all-consuming), only to find out that the amount of money we'd have to PAY to SELL our house is a lot more than we had anticipated.  So, by the time we pay to get out of our house, there won't be much left to put toward our new house.  And a new house?  We've found one that we really like, and we've heard there's lots of interest from other buyers.  It's not on the market yet, but when it is, I doubt we'll get it.

I feel so defeated.  I wish I could go back to 2005 Kyle and Sara and say, "They're lying to you.  Real estate IS NOT a good investment right now.  Just wait a few years."  And then yesterday afternoon, our neighbors began constructing a HUGE kennel in their back yard, right outside of our dining room windows.  To say that it sent me into a panic would be an understatement.  Maybe prospective buyers will really like dog-watching?  Last night, Kyle got up to get some water and when he tried to swivel the faucet on the kitchen sink, it just broke right off.  Right off in his hand.  So he spent the day replacing that.  If we DO sell our house, the new owners will have a nice, new faucet on the kitchen sink, so that's nice for them.

I have been at my parenting worst this week.  This is NOT an exaggeration.  I've yelled at my kids and made so many threats that I knew I wouldn't follow through on.  Did I mention that I've yelled a lot?  Screamed, really?  I can't take full credit for this, because they've been awful, but I'm not sure which came first . . . my issues or theirs.  I feel horrible.  I feel like when they think back to their childhood, the last two weeks are all they will remember.

May is always the most stressful month.  Once camps begin, the momentum just kind of carries us.  But getting ready for the summer is really hard.

On top of everything, when we signed Ben and Jack up for soccer in the fall, we didn't consider how their spring practices and games would affect baseball.  Fortunately (unfortunately?) they don't conflict.  But that means we have Soccer on Mondays and Saturdays and baseball on Wednesdays and Fridays. 

Have I mentioned that Brian and Debbie moved away at the end of April?  While I'm genuinely excited for them, it did kind of feel like I lost my only friend.

I have NOT been eating well and I'm positive that's contributed to my gloominess.  I've consumed too much junk, because it's what's easy during this time of year.  I need to do better about meal planning, but we do have a lot of meals at camp, so when I think about grocery shopping for just one or two dinners, I figure it's easier to eat out.  I need to stop that.  And I really should always carry healthy snacks so that I have no excuse for fast food.

Starbucks got my drink wrong 3 times this week.  They've never once messed up my drink, but THREE TIMES IN ONE WEEK.  I know, I know . . . first world problems.  But when you're paying first world prices for coffee?  You expect better.

The cashier at Meijer pointed at my belly and asked if this was my third child (Jack wasn't with us) and I said, "No, this is my fourth.  My oldest is at school."  She replied, "Yeah, I thought it looked like you probably had more."  Uh, thanks?  Ouch?  I don't even know how to respond to that.

I don't even want to get into how many people tell me that I look big for being due in August.  Yes, I was a little fat before I was pregnant.  Please let's talk about that more.

Because Kyle helps to coach Jack's team, it's just me, Ben and Claire sitting on the sidelines.  They're a handful.  Especially after 7:00, which is normally their bedtime.  After one game, another mom whispered (not quietly enough), "It looks like she has enough kids already."  And something about more than I can handle.  I didn't even bother to shoot a dirty look to let her know that I heard, because I probably would have cried.

One of the hymns Claire and I have been singing is, "What a Friend We Have in Jesus."  The last part of the first verse says:

"Oh, what peace we often forfeit,
Oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer!"

I've tried to keep that in mind . . . that I don't have to carry all of this and that I need to be praying about everything.  But honestly?  On most days, I just can't get there.  Praying about things leads to ugly crying, and I don't usually have time to recover from that without before I have to be somewhere.

Tomorrow starts a new week.  But tomorrow is Mother's Day and I've had a long standing "dislike" for the "holiday" in general.  Getting my kids ready for church and out the door for the late service (rather than the early service) because we're meeting for lunch after it?  And then eating with all three of them in a restaurant during nap time?  Happy Mother's Day?  I don't get it.

Monday, though.  Monday is when it's all going to turn around.  It has to, right?