Moving to the Land of Milk and Honey

[Monterey], are you there? Do you swear you won't forget me? If I found you would you let me come and stay? I ain't getting any younger and before my dying day, I want space not just air. Let them laugh in my face: I don't care!

...Dreams come true. Yes they do. In [Monterey]…

Santa Fe, Newsies (with changes provided in handy little brackets)

Okay, so the song is supposed to be about Santa Fe, but I don't think Jack Kelly would mind my poetic license. You see, somehow in my mind, Monterey has turned into this place where all my problems will  magically disappear. Once we get there, the twins will start sleeping again, Tiny will miraculously potty train himself, Littles will learn to read all on his own. The dog will never run away or steal the pizza off the table. The cat will be healed of his bulimia and cord chewing problems.  Pet hair will sweep itself; dust bunnies hop themselves straight into the trash; dinner will cook of its own accord. I will be able to recline on a purple couch while being fanned by peacock feathers and fed grapes.

Ah, Monterey. It's going to be wonderful.

In the meantime, we are neck deep in packing. I mislaid our packing list today and about had a heart attack. Don't worry, though. I did find it. Otherwise I would be drafting a new list right now instead of blogging.

In between memorizing the packing list and setting it to music, I have been tickling the palates of my family with incredible empty-out-the-fridge delicacies such as last night's PCS pasta:

They're lucky I didn't add in the angel hair.

Tonight I challenged myself with some bruised potatoes and a bottle of Zesty Italian. I'll be honest and say that the twins have been far more impressed by my culinary experiments than the rest of the family. 

Incidentally, tonight I told the boys I would be making Oatmeal Refrigerator Bread so that I could finish off the yeast (and oatmeal, honey, buttermilk, and flour, but you know what I mean). We got all excited about fresh bread for breakfast, and I packed them off to bed before going to the kitchen to get started…only to discover that I didn't have the two packets of yeast I needed to bake bread. Thankfully, my Super Neighbor saved the day because going to the commissary the week the movers show up would be unbearably shameful, even if it was just for yeast.

Anyway, we're pretty much packed at this point. See evidence below:

Safer than carseats and more fun!

And our road trip is planned and the movers are scheduled for this weekend, although they are coming to take the washer and dryer tomorrow. Why, I don't know, but yay for no more laundry? Well, until we move into TLF (Temporary Lodging Facilities).

Isn't it thrilling getting a play by play of this move with us? In that spirit, let's end on a completely unrelated note. You know your child's teething when she's double fisting the frozen blueberries.

Imagine this accompanied by cheerful growls.

In Monterey, of course, teething will be completely painless. And the post-blueberry floor will mop itself. Dreams come true…in Monterey. Yes, they do!

Sunday Meditation

The Man got home last night from a few days out of state, bringing home with him a lovely bout of food poisoning, so we are missing the chance to worship with our church family for the third (or fourth) week in a row. If it hasn't been one thing, it's been another. So I am grateful that even if we aren't meeting with other members of the Church, we have access to the Word of God at all times, even if we're reading our Bibles while the boys alternately play monster trucks and David and Goliath while booby trapping our living room to oblivion.

This morning I have been rereading the story of Christ's anointing in Bethany that is found in Mark 14. I read it last night before bed and wanted to come back and revisit it in the light of day. Then I though I would share with you the little bit that I learned because it's Sunday, and Hebrews tells us that we should not give up meeting together, and if I can't meet up with the Church in the body, I might as well meet up with it in the mind.

Last night as I read, I heard God whisper to me, "Your life is that perfume poured out before me." And I thought: seriously, Lord? My life is diapers and dinosaur books and dishes and discipline (both for myself and my children).

Sometimes I think I could be doing something better for Jesus with my life than what I'm doing. I think I should be writing books that change the world or serving at a soup kitchen or, I don't know, curing cancer. Sometimes I'm afraid that other people think that too. That they look at my life and see a waste. That they think: that woman needs to stop pushing out kid after kid after kid and just get a job.

But what I heard in my heart last night was Christ, the one who welcomes little children, saying, "Leave yourself alone. Why do you trouble yourself? You have done a beautiful thing for me... You have done what you could."

I thought today of the doctor who has contracted Ebola while serving the suffering. I know that many have said he shouldn't have even been there in the first place. They have said that doing so was neglectful of his children and his wife. They've called it a waste of his life.

I'm one hundred percent certain that Jesus is whispering those same words over him and his family right now, saying them back to us. "Leave him alone. Why do you trouble him? He has done a beautiful thing for me… He has done what he could."

I wish that we as a Church could rest in those words, acknowledging that when we serve with a whole heart where He has placed us, we have done a beautiful thing for Him. Yes, others may not understand. There will be those outraged at the "waste" of our lives.

But Christ ties the gospel directly to the giving up of worldly goods, of success, of rationality, even. He looks at this woman, giving up everything she has in a desperate effort to please Christ, and He says, "Everywhere the gospel is told, what she has done will be told too."

He doesn't ask us to be understood. He doesn't ask us to do what makes sense. He didn't even ask this sacrifice of us. He would have died for that woman with or without her bottle of perfume. But when we truly love Him, when we truly understand His love for us (which is the only way we will be able to love Him in return), when we truly get the gospel, the pouring out of self is the natural response.

Because we know that no matter how much we give Him, He is always giving us more. As we pour out the perfume of our life at His feet, Christ, our True Life, is pouring back into us. I love this way of knowing that in Christ "our cup overflows."

Getting the Kids Started Early in the Modeling World

{I have no excuse for that title other than that I just  gave up when I realized that the wheels of my brain had ground to a complete halt. ...Oh, hello, bed! It's nice to see you.}

Two months ago (or so), my lovely friend Angela came over to take some pictures of the twins. She is exploring photography, and I am always generous enough to lend out my children as needed. She came by tonight to tell us goodbye. She leaves early tomorrow for a few weeks out of the country and won't be back until we have already packed up and moved out. So, feeling a little sad and already missing her, I decided that now was the appropriate time to share these wonderful pictures with you (that somehow got lost in the last 2.5 month long haze of sleep deprivation). Plus, I wanted to feel like I'd done some writing without actually doing some writing. You understand this, of course. 

Without further ado, the artwork of Angela:

Littles made sure to break in the camera first.

Bee was extremely uncooperative during our photo session until she passed out for about ten minutes midway through. She woke up happy and hamming it up. Unfortunately, it was at that point that Bruiser decided he was done for the day and took his own little siesta. Needless to say, pictures of them together? Didn't happen.

Bee, the frilly version.

Man, he makes that bow tie look good.

We had some snuggles together. 

This was the yawn that did her in.

We had a little too much fun dressing Bee up as a bookworm. (Angela may or may not have had a little too much fun dressing up Bee period.)

And yes, I wholeheartedly admit this is my favourite photo from the lot. Possibly my favourite photo ever.

Finally, here's Bee, the femme fatale. In retrospect, she really out staged Bruiser in these pictures. Sorry, buddy. But I'm not sure you would've pulled off those pearls.

Incidentally, Angela also took the beautiful picture of cake face Tiny that I posted back in April.

I don't have a good tie up to this post other than to say, I'm adding Angela to the growing list of people I'm going to miss and not just because she takes great pictures of my kids. And now I think I'm going to go sleep. Once I kick Tiny out of my bed. Don't ask.

What's On My Bookshelf?!!!

I'm sure you've all been waiting with bated breath for the next installment of the thrilling saga of Friz Manor: Who Slept Last Night, but I thought we'd take a break from our regularly scheduled programming for a brief game of What's On My Bookshelf?!!!

Prizes will be allotted to readers who 1) have read any of the books I am about to reference, 2) guessed any of the titles currently on The Shelf, and 3) care to provide further reading suggestions to keep me entertained during the long watches of the night when Friz Manor: Who Slept Last Night is singing the same song, second verse, a little bit louder, a little bit worse.

{Prizes include but are not limited to, of course, my undying affection and a brief but priceless moment of internet celebrity.}

Now, let the games begin!

The first category is Books In Progress. I currently have rather a lot of books rolling at this point, possibly because I keep forgetting which books I'm reading and possibly because my attention span is incredible short.

So, at the top of the list is Treasuring Christ When Your Hands Are Full by Gloria Furman. The Man brought this one home for me in May (he has this wonderful habit of bringing books home for no reason at all), and I've been dipping in and out of it since then. I only have thirty pages left at this point, and I'm kind of sad that it's almost over. It is the best presentation of how to live out the gospel in the mundane moments of motherhood that I have ever read, and I need these reminders. I need that perspective.

Coming up in second place, also brought home by the Man, is a set of short stories by the inimitable Dorothy L. Sayers (man, I love her). Let's be honest: this is a bathtub book. It's a "I just want to curl up and read something enjoyable at the end of the day" book. It's a just before bed book. Which is probably why I haven't made it through more than a handful of the forty-four stories (did I say Complete set of short stories? because it is Complete) since things like baths and bedtimes and leisure are hard to come by these days.

Next up is Tsh Oxenreider's Organized Simplicity, which makes me want to purge all of our belongings. Enough said. No, not enough said, I am also planning a date night (hahahahahahaha…sorry) when I will annoyingly ply the Man with question after question regarding our family's purpose statement and other things along those lines. He will respond with characteristic grace and eye rolls.

The second category is Books Completed. I've been knocking a few out, left and right, you know, in all my spare time. Naturally, I did a quick foray through Moby Dick and then polished off Great Expectations and a light read through some commentaries on Revelation. Kidding! Au contraire, mon frere, the lighter, the better these days, because I am reading (in general) with my eyes crossed and my brain half asleep.

Last night, in the haze, I read the great classic of literature Frogged by Vivian Vande Velde (please tell me that's not really her name). While I won't pretend it's the best book I've ever read, there were a few amusing parts, and it kept me mildly entertained. Every now and then everyone should enjoy a princess book. Especially when said princess gets turned into a Chinese-speaking frog and accidentally kidnapped. I'd give it a 4 out of 10.

The day before yesterday I reread Graceling by Kristin Cashore. I vaguely remember reading it at some point some where, but I really couldn't tell you when or where, so I thought it was worth a reread. With the exception of an "adult" (really? can we just say unnecessary?) scene, the plot held together well, the premise was intriguing, and the characters relatively believable. 6 out of 10. And now I want to know what my "grace" would be. But really, I just want to be "graced" with the ability to make people (who shall remain nameless) fall asleep at my command.

Last week I read Shauna Niequist's Cold Tangerines. Thoroughly enjoyable and thought provoking. It was encouraging, funny, intellectually stimulating. I've been on a bit of a memoir kick lately, and her writing was fabulous. So, spoiler alert, her next book, Bittersweet, is in my Books I'm Planning To Read category. Anyway, 9 out of 10.

{Ugh, I'm at the end of my can of mixed nuts and there are only peanuts left. What kind of a bad joke is this??!! I'm leaving the peanuts for the Man.}

As I was reading Cold Tangerines, I was also dipping in and out of Stephen King's book On Writing. Which entertained me a great deal mostly because when the Man asked me what I was reading and I told him, I could tell that he thought I was reading Stephen King's book on writing, which I was, but it was also Stephen King's book On Writing. No one else would find this entertaining but me. Anyway. Stephen King's book On Writing (I can't stop myself) was a great read but, unfortunately, annoyingly inspirational for someone who currently can't even manage a shower every day much less half an hour of writing time. But if you're a writer, go read it. It's now up there with Steven Pressfield's The War of Art and Strunk and White's Elements of Style (which King references plentifully). 9 out of 10.

Finally, I (finally) read Kisses from Katie by Katie J. Davis. I'm still trying to figure out what I want to say about this book. Because it's the kind of book that makes you want to change your life dramatically and go save the world. And I think that's a good thing. But I also know sometimes that's more possible than other times. And sometimes it's more about changing the way we live the lives we have now and by doing so, saving the world. I'm not sure. I will say this though, of all my book choices over the last couple of weeks, this was probably the worst choice, because it was hard to fall back asleep after reading it because I was praying so hard that God would show me how He wants me to live my life. And then I'm reminded that the "least of these" that Jesus and Katie Davis are talking about includes my teething, tossing, and turning (loudly) twins. And 9 out of 10.

{I keep sifting through the peanuts hoping to find any lone pistachios hiding in there. I got lucky once.}

Moving on, let's close out this episode of What's On My Bookshelf?!!! with Books I'm Planning To Read! (I really should've come up with catchier category titles.)

The Man and I took the kids to the bookstore this weekend to pick up some new books for the road trip. Naturally and unfortunately, they chose a horrendous amount of Thomas books. They can make us buy them but they can't make us read them. Just kidding. They really can. Anyway, the Man and I were going to pick out some books for ourselves but book shopping with four kids under the age of four (and a stroller that barely maneuvers through the aisles) is not the most relaxing thing ever. So we opted to plan our purchases and make good use of Amazon.com.

Incidentally, and as a side note, most of the books I've been reading lately have been courtesy of an app called Oyster. I like reading on my phone at night because then I don't have to turn on a light while I nurse.

Anyway, I plan to purchase an actual book with pages that can be turned and smelled and enjoyed for myself in honor of the move, and I think I'm going to get Myquillin Smith's The Nesting Place, because is there a better time to read a book about your home than when you're getting ready to set up your home all over again? I think not. So I'm really looking forward to that.

I'm also, as previously mentioned, planning to read Shauna Niequist's Bittersweet (and I'd love to read Bread & Wine but they don't have it on Oyster), Clay Clarkson's Heartfelt Discipline, and Bill Bryson's  The World As Stage (because can anyone have too much Shakespeare in their life?).

And now, as a sincere apology for writing an obscenely long book post that probably only half a dozen people cared to read, I offer up to you this picture of my terribly cute children enjoying an unseasonably cool rainy day.

Roller Skates and Real Change

It has been a death defying morning.

Literally.

We had a picnic lunch in celebration of our survival.

Littles roller skated out the kitchen door and down a two foot drop into the garage; he knocked one of the jeep doors over onto himself; he fell off the 3 foot tall night stand (again--roller skates); and he still thought that roller skating up on the playground (and I do mean "up" on the 4 foot high platform) was a good idea. Tiny, on the other hand, managed to light a match and drop it (still lit) onto the carpet and also turn the gas stove on full blast when I wasn't watching. The boys ended the morning with a brawl over who got to get Bee a spoon at lunch that included one child throttling the other one by the neck. Brotherly love. And pyromania. And roller skates.

Who thought roller skates were a good idea?

He was getting cocky yesterday practicing on the carpet
and decided to try the tile for the first time…it wasn't pretty.
I can't count the number of times this kid has wiped out. 

Anyway, by no small miracle, all four children are in bed right now (and I am hoping I don't incite the jinx by writing this), so I thought I'd make good use of my time and write…instead of doing something more practical like cleaning the kitchen or prepping for the move. The Man wants a sane wife at the end of the day, after all, more than a clean house. I think.

The twins were a huge help when we bunked the boys' beds this weekend.

Lately, I've been thinking about ways that I have changed since the kids arrived. There's the obvious--stretch marks and a crusty kitchen floor--but there have also been a few more subtle changes along the way. For instance, I hate fake flowers. Absolutely think that they are terrible. Why have fake flowers when they a) don't have any fragrance and b) are just a cheap imitation of reality? But right now, in fact, for the last three months, there has been a vase full of fake flowers next to my coffee pot. Yup. I'll let you take a wild guess about who gave them to me for Mother's Day.

Aside from changes in decor (did I mention Little's contribution to our bedroom wall art? and experienced moms, please tell me, when is it okay to get rid of your children's artistic efforts?), I've also had to man up in a few areas. Like when I find a mouse baked into my oven. Do I scream? Maybe a little. But then I made like an adult, cleaned it up, and helped my poor traumatized children move on with their lives.

He brought a snack for the road.

Speaking of trauma and manning up, few weeks ago, the Man decided that the state of egg-lessness in our home needed to be rectified. I don't eat them so I don't cook them. And since he's rarely home for breakfast, the boys haven't really been exposed to them at all (unless you count putting them in baked goods). So, he lovingly cooked up a whole batch of breakfast burritos.

The boys were more than a little hesitant to try them (considering that Littles thinks the Man's cooking consists of calling in pizza--not true), so I said I would try them too. Moral support and all that. Think like a team: eat eggs. Besides which, I generally re-try eggs every year or so to see if my taste buds have moved on with their lives. They've been given a good long break since I've been pregnant for going on 5 years now and no one in their right mind would expose themselves to their most hated food while pregnant.

I made it all the way through that burrito. Yep. Even if it did start coming back up about halfway through. And I made it with a smile, if a somewhat queasy one. Then I filed that experience away under "things I do for my children" and moved on with my life.

These kids have starting joining us in our eating escapades.

In a full spirit of confession, being a mom has also made me realize just how ugly my sin is. We've had a rough couple of months sleep-wise (I'm starting to sound like a broken record), and there are few things more capable of bringing out my awful than sleep deprivation. I have had thoughts I never thought I would have. I have said words I hoped never to hear coming out of my mouth. I've been impatient. I've yelled. I've gotten angry about things that really don't matter. And at the end of the day, I've found myself broken hearted at who I am when things get uncomfortable.

This is still where I am a lot of the time. It's easy for me to get stuck on the failures, reliving them even on the good days. But I am trying (so hard) to learn that the glory of the good news of Jesus Christ is here even in this. So often I come before Christ, begging for forgiveness, asking how he can love me in all my ugly, but the reality is that my failure does not come as a surprise to Him. Not at all. His grace accepts all of me. His cross redeems all of me. His empty grave renews all of me.

This was just supposed to be a funny post about my silly children, but the truth is, though I am not the woman I was before they came into my life, the main reason is that they force me closer and closer to Christ as I desperately try to figure out how to parent them past the sleepless nights and the rearranged expectations and the toddler tantrums. Fake flowers and taped up scribble sheets and choked down breakfast burritos are hopefully only the outward sign of a heart that is being relentlessly drawn closer to the only one who deserves a Parent of the Year award--the one who gave his own life so that his children could be with him forever.

Early morning snuggles are the best, aren't they?

Hope Revisited

A few months ago, I wrote about hope. I'd like to revisit that topic.

I was reading the love chapter earlier this week as I nursed--which means I really wasn't thinking about hope at all. I was thinking about how J.B. Phillips translated "love is not rude" to "love has good manners". (So stop talking with your mouth full! It's unloving! And if you don't change the toilet paper roll, you might as well just tell me you hate me!) And then I got to the very last verse:

In life we have three lasting qualities--faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of them is love.

All those months ago (or was it weeks? time is screwy these days), I asked what we do when our hope dies. I've finally figured out what I think the answer to the question is: love.

When our hope is deferred, we choose to love. To love ourselves, to love the faulty humans who surround us, to love Christ, and possibly most importantly, to rest in His love for us, because we are faulty humans and consequently, our love also is faulty.

So, at the end of a long day when things have not gone as planned,
when the laundry has not been finished,
the dishes have not been done,
the floors have not been vacuumed,
the muscles of my body and mind have not been stretched,
all because of the tyranny of the urgent (also known as the tyranny of twins and toddlers),
and I look in the mirror and lose hope that life will ever be manageable again,
that my body will ever be, well, not saggy and flabby,
that my mind will be able to process more than nursing schedules and tantrum management,
that our home will ever be salvaged from the dust bunnies that have taken over,
that I'll ever get things rolling towards this move…

I must make the choice to love.

I remind myself that I love my children and my husband,
and that a great part of love is service,
whether that means kissing invisible booboos
or choosing to do dishes with two babies strapped to my front
or leaving behind unfolded laundry to fit in some outdoor bonding with my sons.
I remind myself that I need to love myself,
which might mean cutting a little slack,
or crediting piggy back rides as an aerobic work out,
or believing the Man when he tells me that what I've done with my day is enough.
Most of all, perhaps, I remind myself that I love my Jesus,
and that means believing him
when he tells me I am fearfully and wonderfully made--yes, even on the days when I feel like a failure.

Because that's what love is:
believing the best
of others and of ourselves.
And when we can't hope any more,
when we find ourselves wondering if this is the best we get,
we choose love
(to believe the best even if this is the best we get).

Because love will always bring us back to our greater hope,
the one True Love who gave everything so that this
right here
right now
isn't the best we get,
but is only a shadow,
a taste,
a hint of what is to come:
forever with Him,
transformed to reflect Him,
completely satisfied in Him,
hope realized.

Firsts

There have been a lot of lasts lately. It's PCS season. So, you know, last time having dinner with that family. Last time at the playground with those kids. Last date before our babysitter moves to Illinois. You get the picture. With all that said, it's been nice to have some firsts. So, let's celebrate some firsts, shall we?

In the traditional sense, Bruiser is leading the way with a couple teeth. We need to get the biting under control quickly though. That kid is rabid.

You can see them if you look closely, hold your tongue right, and squint a lot.

Little's survived his first wasp sting. Technically, his first two wasp stings or were they yellow jacket stings? It doesn't matter. The point is that he screamed a lot less for the second one than the first. Desensitization at its best.

Bee blew her first raspberry on my arm the other day. It tickled. She was proud of herself.

We had our first bout of twin on twin wrestling. Bruiser got the jump on Bee. He may be small, but he's quick. I predict that his first words will be "smack" and "down". Also, Littles and Tiny may or may not be starting a betting pool. The odds were on the heavyweight Bee before this surprising upset.

Please don't tell me if all my wrestling terminology is wrong.
The Man isn't home tonight to help me in my ignorance.

The twins got their first bucket swinging experience. Tiny also had his first time of accidentally swinging upside down when his bum slid off the swing when he was about six feet up in the air. Luckily all my "hold on tight" lectures had apparently sunk in and the Man was able to rescue him before he broke his neck. When I die of a heart attack, we will all know who caused it.

I promise the huge forehead is a result of bad camera angles.

She was smiling right until I took this picture. I promise.
And yes, that might be a tiny, fuzzy mohawk developing on the top of her head.

The big boys began their foray into baseball, which evidently is going to be their first official sport. I was really pulling for soccer, but the Man sabotaged me. He's sneaky like that. Fine: I have big plans to brainwash them all the next time he deploys. He'll come home and they'll all be musical loving, Indonesian speaking, soccer players.

This stud takes his baseball very seriously.
His bat is also starting a reign of terror in our home.

The Man is in the process of getting a really great picture of Littles here.
I'd include it but he didn't send it to me.
So instead I'm posting this picture which shows you the astounding green of our well-mown weeds.
Is this Oklahoma? I can hardly believe my eyes!

Bee borrowed my clothes for the first time (it's a long story--don't ask). I almost think she pulls off my super awesome Neverthirst t-shirt better than I do...

She makes that shirt look good.

The twins got their first big kid stroller ride. No one fell out of the stroller, so I think we're winning. Also, that's Bee's first sippy in the cup holder. Technically it's the communal sippy because I'm hygienic like that. Honestly, I was going to get Brusier one too, but they were all out of "boy" colors, and I figured sharing with Bee for a couple weeks would be less psychologically damaging than having his own pink and flowery sippy. 

There was nothing exciting happening over the edge of the stroller.
But don't they make you wonder?

Bee also showed first evidence last week of her own special brand of humor when she spent a significant portion of lunch fake sneezing and laughing at herself.

Unfortunately, neither the twins nor the boys have decided to impress us with the first of breaking the ongoing run of sleepless nights (it's a thunderstorm! it's a bad dream! it's a new tooth coming in! it's Mommy and Daddy's eyeballs falling out from exhaustion!), so I'm continuing to live on a healthful diet of coffee and sugar, which isn't doing much to help the sudden influx of what I'm referring to as PCS pimples. But who knows? They could decide, tonight even, that a well-rested Mommy is a first everyone could enjoy.