During the day-time hours, I wittle my numbers some.  Between 8am and 2pm, I have 2 children home with me.  Well, that is when Emma is not in pre-school.  So, Monday/Tuesday and Wednesday mornings I have only Will home. 

Only Will is sort of like saying: Only an elephant.

Will is formerly: patient.   Kind.  Easy-going.  But presently: totally rotten.  I claim full ownership of this problem, as it has come to my attention on more than one occasion that I may be the source of his recent personality-distortions.  Where once laid infant-innocence there now exists evil so deep, so thick I am faint in its face.

This evil causes my son to wriggle out of each and every seat-belt he encounters.  So far, the 5-point harness he has not bested, but really- it’s a matter of time.  He’s a temperamental, balding little Houdini master-mind.

This evil encourages him to shriek and roar as we roam the aisles of Kroger, looking for food to feed the starving children at home. 

This evil makes him want to jump head-long from the shopping-cart.  From the stroller.  From the top of the bed. 

This evil makes him yell when angry: “Mama-ma-ma-ma” over and over and over.  It makes him tug on my pants and hold his sticky hands up to be held.  Always held, with my boys.  Never happy til up near my face and tucked under my chin.

Emma drew me the letter E again today.  It looks like a ladder with endless extensions.  I clapped and cheered for her and the leggy-E. 

 She wanted to watch a movie and I did not want her to watch anything.  This one would couch-potato her days away if I allowed it.  I try and not allow it.

“Let’s play restaurant, Emma”, I said.  She cooked for me.

She gave me a huge handful of change for the cash register, then took it all away and left me penniless.

She filled my grocery bags with beautiful plastic fruit, and lost herself in a fun and imaginary game.

Will crashed and banged on his dishes.  Eating whatever he could find.

And his instruments.  He loves his instruments, beating to death the xylophone.

Our play-room becomes whatever we need it to be that day. 

It is a : market, a school-room, a restaurant, a cafe, a book-store.  The use switches according to the imagination.

And I am just along for the ride.

Is it too early to start setting up for Fall? 

The temperature beyond the walls is in the upper-90’s and my body is being boiled and steamed by this heat.  I simply dislike stepping foot outside after 6:30 am.  I have been plotting Fall recipes and Fall candle-choices.  And yet, it is extraordinarily Summer-hot still.  I seem to ALWAYS forget how Georgia-Summer does not even show itself until August.

Emma’s school year kicked off this week.  So, Fall IS coming.  She has been asking me for a full month-each day- when she will finally head out to her new class.  “Soon”, was always my answer.  Until Monday, when I told her excitedly, “Tomorrow!”  I let her pick out a new dress, and she so adorably thought that if she wore it immediately, school would begin.

  She tried it on and said: “Oooh, Da-Da’s gonna love dis one on me”. 

And he did.  She chose something all purple-y.

Will was not sure whether to be happy or sad that his sister was heading off into the real world.  I think he prefers her departure, as it solidifies his status as an only child- which he mistakenly believes he is at times.

Emma was very proud to wear her name-tag with a bear on it.  She also accessorized with a pearl bracelet and a Tinkerbell lip-gloss necklace. 

She was wanting toes painted, but we ran fresh out of time, and ended up saving pedicures for the second day of school.  She spirited some of Anna’s glitter-polish out of her bathroom- and I thought about when the cat’s away, or so the saying goes.

And on my agenda these next few weeks: Get my devotions done more regularly.  Keep on top of our finances.  Keep our meals healthful and balanced.  Maintain uncluttered closets and living spaces. 

 Stay ahead of homework and music and AWANA.  Stay home-based more afternoons than not, so we can speak and relate and know one another well.  And so that we get in the habit of work before play.  I am pounding the words: Do not be a quitter, into the kids’ heads this year.  If there is a choice for a B, or the option of an A, choose to spend 15 extra minutes and claim the A.  Realize that homework is merely setting you up for a lifetime of work, and learning how to cope in a work/home world of hard, daily labor is a very important lesson.  Work not only glorifies God, but it provides opportunity and reward. 

Kids who work hard are simply open to greater possibilities.

But as any parent knows, it takes hard work to make kids work hard.  Training their minds to be willing, training their hearts to see its importance and value.  These are all long-term goals we have, and kids are short-sighted.  I have found that by being home more, we are more relaxed.  We are better-invested in our tasks.  And we are doing it! 

Day-by day-by day.

22 The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; [1]
his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

My Emmy is going through a “spell” right now.  She is afraid of many things.  I believe this latest fear-factor began when Pat discovered a black-widow in his kayak.  The spider had nested and begun raising a family in the boat, and he and my brother-in-law found it and promptly dismantled its home.

Well.  We had to research the spider, talk about the spider, look outdoors for the spider, and generally breathe spider for a time, until Widow’s memory was forgotten.  It took a couple of weeks.

 Emma was terrified of Black-Widow, and mentioned its name often.  If I pottied, or went upstairs to fetch the baby.  If I vacuumed or snuck off to fold a pile of laundry- I would hear “Mama?”  And then the crashing of fast-paced foot-traffic, as she spied the house looking for me.  “I scared of the spider”.

Eventually, Widow was left in the past, and I was thankful.

Until 2 weeks ago when Fear-Factor began again in earnest.  Fear to be alone in a room, specifically.  I have not pottied solo for approximately 8 years, so this has been a milestone I have been anticipating greatly.  Emma’s fear of being alone anywhere- this sudden, urgent fear- has changed my goals somewhat.

Two days ago, Emma was playing dolls upstairs and I snuck quietly down to the kitchen, a moment to mop the smudgy floors. 

“Mama?  Where are you?  I scared!”  And there she was.  I held the mop and was just plain frustrated.  It is a challenge to get the house cleaned!  She- oblivious to my feelings- sat at the table and started singing:

So whether you eat, or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.  This from our Seeds collection.

The kids speak truth to me many times.  God really uses them to encourage me and to set me straight, through their candid observations and honesty.  My frustration was diffused -first because of her lispy singing, and she sang that song over and over.  But also because she was RIGHT. 

Whatever I do should glorify God.  Whether I mop or not.  Whether I am shadowed or not.  Whether I can accomplish tasks or not.  God does not tell us to glorify him only when we feel success, and we FEEL like we have glorified Him.  But also when we have not done anything profound and the day has been a wash and we don’t FEEL that much of anything has been heroic or successful. 

Whatever I do: glorify God.  My homework- that a 3 year-old has helped me get a start on.

Big Brother, Little Brother

One year ago this moment, I was cuddling an hours-old baby in a heated, flannel hospital blanket.

Resting

I was exhausted, but running high on adrenalin and pride: because the waddling for 9 months and the aching and the “I think I can” of the ninth month had all run together and made this beautiful moment, where it was just Pat and Will and I.  And we were high on a birth-story-gone-well.

We had created this person and meeting him was the excitement that only lines up with new life.  The sense of anticipation which comes with knowing you are about to greet a part of you.  A real, whole person has lived inside and is now ready to be met and blended into family.

Happy Baby

I was so sleepy in the hospital.  I remember being barely able to visit with anyone, almost-unable to keep my eyes and ears alert to anything but watching my baby and resting.

The kids had waited and waited for Will for so long.  Days are infinite to children, so there is no way to know how long this 9 months seemed to them…except to say that they were ready.

This son of ours has not disappointed.  I have disappointed myself many moments, with how I have adjusted with immaturity and impatience to the needs of another person.

Curious

But he…has been so easy to love.  And loved he is.

This morning the kids could not wait to watch Will open his gifts.  So they had Pat wake the sleeping baby up, so they could celebrate with him before school.  He was kissed and loved and he smiled and wriggled.

 He especially liked his blocks from Mimi.

Ooh, Blocks!

Moments after opening gifts, he slithered out of his seat-belt in the booster seat, stood up and turned around backwards….and toppled the chair over onto the hardwood.

Ka-Boom

And now, he has a birthday-egg on his forehead.

Will, I thank God for you daily.  I am grateful for your life for many reasons: because you have made Josh a brother. 

 You have taught your sisters better how to nurture.  You have bonded us all, as we spend countless hours admiring and enjoying you. 

Birthday Grins

You have encouraged us all in service and selflessness.  You should never have ego-issues, with the way you are adored.  In fact, so solidified is your position in this house, that your siblings call you “The King”.  You are especially fond of your Dad these days, and every evening around 6, you listen for his voice and wail and holler when the door closes.

Da-Da

 Because you know that Da-Da is way fun, and his magic-carpet rides on the sofa-pillows are the best.  You are pretty tight with your “Mama-Ma” and love nothing more than to sink back against me and talk about what bunnies do: you wrinkle your nose and sniff really hard.  We love you dearly, little guy.  You have turned our worlds upside-down in the way that small people do…

….But it’s upside-down for the better.

I have decided that it is not God’s will for me to have a clean house.  Part of that is my fault.  Who allowed a Bunny into the roost, and even encouraged the idea?  Right.  And who willingly succumbed to 4 pregnancies, knowing that upon birth I would welcome another critter who joyfully upside-down’s my home?

Right.  It was me.  It is me. I chose this life- this rich and messy life!

Will is the latest tornado to strike.  He is never happier than when I naively leave a drawer open. 

Caught red-handed

Sometimes in the utter excitment of putting away laundry, I leave a drawer or closet door cracked.  And then the turbulent wind of Will crawling at break-neck speeds alerts me to the fact that he has noticed.  Darn it.  He has noticed my mistake.

And he has found a place called home.  Emptying the diaper-drawer is a new favorite.  Stacks after stack of Pampers tossed around makes him feel very proud and fulfilled. 

Project 101

 I like to imagine him an intrepeneur- engaged in thinking outside the box.  How can I make something of these pieces?  But the naked truth is: I just have another boy on my hands. 

He smiles at me.  “Look Mom.  See what I have accomplished in your honor.  Cheers!”

Then he crawls off, quick and sneaky-like, looking for his next project.  Only his projects always require disassembly, instead of the usual assembly.

Off to the next thing!

His room is almost complete- minus a few cosmetic changes to make still.   I took a few photos of his new room.  Our closet as it was, is no more.  We switched all kinds of storage around, and have a system going now that works well for our shoes and clothing.

View from the Bathroom

But I was too lazy to really make it look spiffy. 

My dresser from childhood

 Lots of color.

Corner where wire shelving used to be

Lots of books.

Old Office Mail Sorter for his books

Every morning, Will greets the day by swatting this wooden toy Pat brought home from Italy years go.

Dangling toy-of-joy

I found these plastic crates by the side of the road:), and numbered lables for them.  Our shoes are stored in here.

Crates for Storage

After a day of destruction, sleep is needed!

Good-night, Mess-Maker!

A note: Thank you for all the comments the last few posts.  I ended up having issues with “off-color-” spam, so in my deleting, many real comments were removed.  So sorry!  Glad I read the messages first!

I like my real-life. Stepping away from it and being outside of it for a week was adequate reflective time.  I like my world of unmade beds and debris on the floor and something always a little out of whack.  I know nothing else at this point, and my identity and comfort is wrapped up in the place where peace always just eludes me.

Mostly, I like my kids.  I need my kids.  They are my heart-extensions.  They ARE my heart.  They are the tiny pieces of me, walking and talking with me day in, day out.  They give and receive love in a way that is so graceful, so merciful, so beautifully without bounds- that when they disappear, much of my beauty does too.

Lego-Therapy: Real-Life for Josh

Don’t misunderstand.  I loved having the solo-time with Pat.  I loved having a really, really clean house for a few days- that was a TREAT.  I loved not cooking each meal and serving three or four in-between meals- known as snacks.  I loved having clean toilets. Not having a constant battle over point-and-shoot into the potty.  I loved the quiet.  I loved the coffee drunk while hot.

Storing those Legos: Real-Life

But yesterday morning, I could not have been more excited.  And nor could Pat.  I spent my drive to the kids thinking about my week.  About God’s reality that when sin entered the Garden, humans would live in a marred, imperfect world.  We would toil in this life- the result of the plunge into sin.

I recalled His promises that despite her disobedience, He would open Eve’s womb, give her children, bless her lineage.  I felt it important to remind myself of the curse- and the blessing.  I am a sinner saved by grace.  The sin means that I live caught in an imperfect, temporary world.  Absorbed in a  less-than-sufficient world-view.  I flex wildly against God’s design for my life at times.  I want it MY way- thank you- and submission is nowhere to be seen on my horizon.

Beds Unmade: Real-Life

God has a way of gently bringing us back into His line of vision.  He did that for me this week.  Renewed my appreciation for my life of hard, hard work.  Reinstated a sense of gratitude for these messy and high-maintenance people I am called to love and disciple.  I prayed all week long to be refreshed in my spirit when the kids returned. 

And I am.  Grace indeed.

Emma and Blocks on the floor: Real-Life

Anna amused me last night as she arrived home, and sat down to draw.  This is what she does any time she wants to reflect on something: she draws.  She was doodling and I was cooking the kids’ homecoming dinner: spaghetti and meat-balls.  I was rolling ground-beef and adding spices and she said: “Mama, so what did you do for your anniversary?

Flowers: Real-Life Marriage is Rich

I told her we went out to Rice for Thai food.  “And then?”, she asked.

We watched a movie.  “And then?”  And she looked at my with squinty eye-brows and a slight smile.

I got a little flustered.  What is she getting at?  What does she know?  

I said, “And that was all”.  She seemed fine with my evasions.  This child who was so tiny for so long now teases us when we kiss.  Now watches carefully when we hug.  She is this little set of eyes, learning about marriage and its bond.  God give us wisdom for these questions:).  Give us grace to love so they learn love.

Happy Real-Life Friday!

I am married to the perfect man.  Not everyone’s perfect.  But my perfect.

June 30, 2001.

He is perfect for me.  And I see God’s wise hand written all over our lives the longer I live with Pat.

Do you know what’s funny?  In college, my friends all thought I would marry a pastor.  Across the board, through-and-through, the girls closest to me set their sights on guys in ministry as they thought about  me.  There were the guys in youth ministry.  The guys in homeless ministry.  The guys in music ministry.  The guys on track to pastor-ships.  These were all the ones I was told I would marry.  Had to marry.  You’d be perfect for the life!

But I knew differently.  I remember insistently denying their persistence and defending my internal sense of who I saw myself with.  And it wasn’t anyone in full-time ministry.

Wonderful men they were.  And as I see glimpses of many of them now through Facebook, they are truly exemplary husbands and fathers.  God is good and answers the prayers of many, many girls.  And their parents too!

But I sat in that little closeted room on 4th Central, and I knew where I wouldn’t fit.  I was RA at the time, and generally lived with a steady stream of girls in and out of the space each day- and each night.  I committed to praying about this “guy” my junior year of college.  I knew that I desired marriage young.  I knew that I desired family young.  

But who knows? I thought.  Lots of people desire lots of things, and especially when they fall according to our timing.  Life is nice when it’s according to our plan, but God works according to His plan.  And this was the humbling part of the process.

And so I started to journal and pray and trust God with finding this man, whom I hoped really existed.  

I told my friends after some time: I think that I would like to marry a guy who works for Bellsouth and lives in the suburbs.  I don’t think ministry-wife-life is for me.  And I KNEW it wasn’t for me.  Too little autonomy.  Too much structure.  And that frightened me.  Life lived in a suburban context, lived quietly but intentionally, seemed a better fit.  And I knew it then.

Summer after my junior year arrived.

And as chance and God’s goodness would have it, so did Pat. 

Babies. Summer 2000.

He literally plopped down into my life the first week home, allowing us a full summer to get to know one another and begin to learn to love.

He worked for Bellsouth.

He lived and had a house in the suburbs.

God has a sense of humor.  I could write a Mom-thesis on this point, but that would be a story for a different day.

Parents to Anna. Pregnant with Josh.

That wasn’t what attracted me though- the job and the house.  Those were pieces.  But it was more the LIFE.  I knew I could do HIS LIFE.  I knew I could support and under-gird him in this life that he was already living and would continue to live.  I knew I could do long work hours.  I knew I could do corporate.  I knew I could do suburbia.  I knew I could be what he needed as a programmer, “owned” by a company.

Parents of two

And that is what a wife is: the person her husband needs her to be, as she is there for him in the life God gives him.  She is the one behind him- not always perfectly.  But she is the strength behind his every-day.

5-year anniversary trip to Maine.

I am thankful for the years we have had.  They have been 9 years of marriage, 10 years of togetherness.  We have been together long enough now that it is hard to recall what I ever did before I could call him in or about my day.  We are ONE person, as evidenced by our perspectives and parenting.  Mostly by our humor.

He gave me Emma, his mini-me.

I love him.  And I love the life God has given us together.  I love being his wife.  I love that he is father to my kids, and loves them in the sacrificial way that a man should: giving up time and sometimes hobbies and interests for the sake of giving himself to them. 

Dad to 4. He loves them like so uniquely.

Leading them in their teaching about God.  Teaching them about marriage as he models careful and respectful and loving care of me. 

He documents EVERY occasion

Bellsouth and suburbs isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.  God takes us in vastly different directions. 

But living this life with Pat has suited me to a T. 

And I am truly, daily thankful.

I have not engaged with this blog in over a week.  Not a  first for me, not a last. I have felt June speed by as it always does- a flash of parties and planning and children and memories.  It is such a busy, busy month for me. 

A month I enjoy, but from which I am definitely recovering:).

Kudos to my son for choosing this Pottery Barn Kids wooden castle for one of his “big” gifts.  Wooden toys are my love-langauge.

Josh’s party was last week, at our pool.  We had a great time.  Seven of his closest friends and their siblings and Moms.  Good times.

My older children are visiting grand-parents this week.  Pat’s parents invite the kids to spend a week at their home each summer, and it is a wonderful 7 days playing with their grand-parents.  And also their cousins.  Only God’s kindness could have arranged for my kids to have cousins exactly their ages.

Is there anything more special to child-hood than summers with family?   I have the clearest, most sacred memories of being with my cousins through the long, free days of summer, and I am so thankful my kids have built-in friends with our family.

So, they are away.  Enjoying a chance to be indulged by loving grandparents.  Escaping the structure of home.  And living a moment in which to embrace what Summer is about: freedom from the hum-drum.

I am filling my time with many activities.  Having lived in our home for almost 5 years now, we have remained curtain-less.  So, we are hanging curtains this week.

Having lived long enough with Anna’s pink-ish room, I am changing that.  I have gathered various pieces from thrift stores- of course- and am putting together a bigger-girl room for her.  A surprise for when she comes home.  She moved into our guest room mid-year this year.  And so she has lived with existing furnishings and bedding.  It is pretty, but the look has been disorganized and not “together”.  This has not bothered her in the least, but has troubled me.  She is generally a grateful kid, and she affirms most everything I do in her space- and she is actually proud of my thrifting as I explain the economics of it to her.  This makes me even more motivated to give her a really cool space.

Time: that is what I have realized this week that I have little of.  Pat and I had a chance to spend a night alone together- our first since Will.  And we woke up in the morning and stayed up late in the evening- and enjoyed our new deck and the breeze and eating our cheescake from the bakery.  And it did wonders for my soul.  Time: almost every minute of it is given away to my family.  This has been a great cause for throwing away selfishness and egocentrism.  And it has been challenging, because the forest is lost for the trees when there is little space for reflection.

Because reflection and collecting thoughts takes time.

I am thankful for this amazing gift this week.  I am thankful because I can read my Bible more easily.  I can organize my closets.  I can hang my curtains.  I can look my husband in the eyes and really listen and respond and maintain interest.  And I can renew my love for him, because again- time does that.

Love is time.  Time is love. 

Time: I have never appreciated it more.  I could never have known when I had one baby, then two, then three, and then four- how my personal time would slip through my finger-tips. Not rocket-science that it would disappear.   And not altogether bad, either. 

We don’t often realize what our idols are until they dsintegrate in front of our eyes. 

I am writing letters to the children who have celebrated birthdays this June.  A tradition I have intended to start each year.  but am finally going to begin.  A letter on each birthday from Me: the woman who desires to be the biggest cheer-leader of their lives.  Words of celebration for where life has taken us this year.  Words of gratitude for being their mother.  Words of encouragement and direction for the year to come.  They shape me more than any amount of alone-time.  Giving me away to them has taken my heart and elevated it to heights I could not have imagined before knowing motherhood.

These letters I plan to store in their Boxes.  Each child has a Box in which I can place a note, a small gift, a funny anecdote.  And I am going to give Pat and I a Box too.  The children love to write us letters and cards.  And I thought it would be fun to have these boxes into which we can slip our correspondence.

As we grow as a family, we change together.  And cheering one another on has easily become a most significant dynamic for our 6.  I am amazed and humbled by the grace my kids show me, as they cheer me on on tired and cranky days.  And I am motivated as I see them work toward disposing of baby-ish tendencies, to rally around and bless me.

Just to prove that my mind has flown the coop…

…here is a little nugget of proof.  I called Josh’s friend Trey to the refrigerator.  “Trey, look where I found my sunglasses!” He ran home soon after I proposed snacks, probably fearful of what a mother who stores sun-glasses with the milk- could possibly offer him.

I generally blame the kids for lost items.  And who could blame me?  When I find Emma’s hair-bows in my vase, used Pull-Up’s squished under the bureau, the hand-weights that are supposed to give me a bikini-body ferreted into Josh’s bed, I start to expect the worst.  It’s one thing to be promised a bikini-body and to find you were lied to by your Exercise TV friend, Stephanie Vitorino.  It is quite another to have your only means of booty-licious buns stolen away by your son, who wants said hand-weights to play roller-derby with Lego-men.

Who can blame me for my woebegone state?

My worldy goods are dwindling by the hour, left to the fate of an elf who lives with us, who goes by the name It- wasn’t- me.   My painting crashed to the floor two weeks ago.  It- wasn’t- me.

My clock two weeks before that.  It- Wasn’t- me.

These paintings perhaps a month previous.  It- Wasn’t- me. 

But I know who did it.  And it wasn’t It-wasn’t-me.  I realize none of these photos look overly dramatic, but just take into consideration that all 6 of these home-decor commodities included glass coverings at some point.

No more my friends.  No more.  It-wasn’t-me leads a very active criminal life.  I have swept up more glass shards in the past month than I can possibly count.

As if to give wings to my story of spirited-away items, Emma looked up furtively at me from the laundry room.  “Emma, what are you doing?” 

“I’m just playing hide and seek with Anna’s trophies”.  Yes she was.

Between their haphazard carelessness and my dementia, I hope it all works out in the end.

My cousin, Jo- a 28 year-old mother of 5 young children – found herself in an interesting, heart-sobering conversation this week.  A stranger, a warm and kind stranger, asking her which of her 5 little ones is her favorite.  Go and read about it here.  My Mom commented quickly with: “As for me, I have 5 favorites”.

That is my mother.  I cannot recall a day ever, ever not feeling like a favorite. Even with occasional times of struggle to agree, still there was a constant assurance: you are loved… for you.

As for me:

Anna- She lends the passion to our family.  There is no one who leads the group on Family Nights like her.  No one who persuades and motivates to the same degree. 

She chirps and calls orders and feeds the exuberance and excitement, until all are sharing her feelings.  Christmas and most holidays would be…less…without her.  She is the heart-beat, the passionate one.  She cries for others and celebrates with others.  She is happy in who she is – I have heard her speak jealously at times of the possessions others have that she would like, but she does not want to BE anyone else.  I love that about her, and I hope she stays content in who she is, growing in and toward God.  She is my big girl and little girl all-in-one. 

Josh- Slow and steady.  Our oldest son in birth-order and in personality. 

 He lends a stability to our home.  He is most-times thorough and responsible.  He sets his back-pack down after school and opens his folder to his homework and plows away.  He is diligent.  Pat and I see strains of quiet leadership developing in him, and it makes us so thankful to see his heart forming in the wisdom and knowledge of God.  He enjoys working side-by-side with his Dad, and is willing to take on new tasks if asked.  We pray him into mature manliness, and we hope more than anything that he will one day be able to lead his own family with skill and love.

Emma- She is the first of our two babies.  And the humor of our home. 

Emma is quick on the up-swing and quick-witted.  She is expressive verbally, and a sassy-lassy who needs much discipline.  She is fiercely independent, always telling me “Mama, I do it!”  She decided last summer that tricycles were for babies and that because she is a big girl she can only ride a big-girl bike.  She is unstoppable.  And so my correction of her is constant too.  She sees life with ultra-practicality.  She has great discernment with people and can recall all sorts of opinions about adults that one would not expect to hear from such a tiny thing.  She is bossy, very bossy.  She still gets quite a few spankings, but God is working obedience slowly and steadily into her heart. 

Will- The second of our two babies.  The Ultra-Baby.  Spoiled.  Loved on.  Served. 

 His personality is becoming more pronounced, and unless my guess is off, I think he is going to be an all-round physical boy.  Josh is middle-ground physical, balancing force with ability to sit still and concentrate easily.  Will is more intensely physical than Josh was at this age, already throwing things, and breaking them.  Determined, but with a pleasant personality over-all.  We shall see what God makes him. We pray that we will have the energy to parent our finale-baby!

FAVORITE: HOW?

I’ll go back to my Mom’s quote of disbelief, something she repeated to us often growing up:

YOU ARE ALL MY FAVORITES! 

Sometime I make lists of what I love about each child.  On paper or just in my head.  But I simply think: there could not ever be a favorite.  Each is so irreplaceable.  Love for kids multiplies.  It is not less with each child, but more.  God grows the ability to love bigger. Each baby attacks ego:) and that opens up more room for sacrificial love.  So that you can truly, rightly tell each child:

You are my favorite.  Forever and ever.