Calendar Flip

Well, one month of the fall 'semester' is already done. I absolutely love the way the time flows when one is busy. Correction, I love the way time flows when I'm busy and disciplined. This past month has been busy, but very undisciplined.

You may recall me mentioning that we're decorating the kid's bedrooms and that 'after' pictures should already be up. They should be and aren't, so here's a progress update shot. The room started off plain white with dusty rose carpeting. We've gotten really far, eh? Just kidding. The walls have been painted, but need a lot of touching up, (two year olds helping paint is a cute theory). We did the walls in a light pink, with dark pink stripes up about 3 feet. There is a border going in and then some of my decorative touch to turn the room from blah to princess pretty. We've also done the first coat in the nursery, but that's all. Hopefully we'll have it finished before I go away at the end of the month.

Total sidenote- I am going away at the end of October! The ladies retreat is written in pen on my calendar and Nick has booked the weekend off. This will be my first weekend away from the kids since Brooklyn was born, I am so ready for a break!

The break will be much deserved after the October we have on the go. This weekend Nick and I sat down to plan when we will have Brooklyn's first birthday party and discovered that at least one of us is already booked every. single. day. of October. How nuts. We did some swapping and will be able to have a birthday party for her which is exciting as it is an important day.

The fullness of the calendar has put a bit of a damper on my enthusiasm though. I love being busy and every day that flows by quickly right now is a blessing, but I also love being spontaneous and when you're booked solid a month in advance there isn't much time for that. A friend reminded me this week that I can make it because I'm creative. Hopefully that will lead to a month of fun, spontaneous, scheduled fun!

Poopy

I think I'll continue in the underwear theme as it does take up quite a bit of my day. Changing diapers on two, (sort of), and soon to be three bums is just one of those tasks that must be done around here.

Isabella has done fabulously well with the potty training gig so far. She rarely has accidents, and when she does it's usually because I'm tied up with Brooklyn and can't help her with a tricky waistband or something. Every now and then we put a Pull Up on her for a car ride that involves one of the 400 highways as a 20 minute drive can turn into two hours on them. She'll use the toilet at people's houses, at stores, at baseball stadiums. It really has gone a lot better than I anticipated.

As long as you're just talking about peeing.

There's something about pooping on the toilet that Isabella just isn't digging. She'll hold it in all day until we put on her Pull Up for the night and then within minutes she'll have taken a dump. Or you can watch her working on a doozie and so pick her up and take her to the toilet to finish the deed, but she'll just stop. We make sure to sit with her in the bathroom while she's trying to poo and if she has an accident we try to explain that she's not in trouble, but perhaps she could try to get the toilet next time !?!

It's not like I'm at my wits end or anything. Wiping one poopy bum a day isn't the end of the world by any stretch of the imagination. And Brooklyn only poops once a day too. Two poopy diapers a day isn't that bad either.

I know that Isabella has two more falls before she can attend kindergarten so we have a fair bit of time to work on the potty training thing, but with my sensitive sense of smell and occasional naseousness I really would like to be done with the bum wiping.

I just remembered what newborn poop is like. Aw, poop.

What a difference!

Last night while folding the girls laundry it caused me to contemplate what a difference two pounds makes. I was thinking about it because Isabella has outgrown her first set of underwear and moved on to the next size. There is only a two pound difference on the charts that help determine what size to buy. I was trying to decide if we go from 3 to 3x's or from 3 to 4's.

We went from 3 to 3x's and as you can see by the picture they're noticeably larger.

It got me thinking what a difference two pounds makes in a lot of different situations. What a difference two pounds makes to the health of a premature babe. What a difference two pounds makes to someone struggling to lose, or gain, weight. What a difference two pounds of food makes to a starving family. What a difference adding two pounds makes to a workout. What a difference lifting two pounds makes to someone shaking under a load.

Two pounds sounds almost insignificant but when you really think about it, it's rather large. Just as most of the small things in life are really bigger than they seem at first. For example, I never thought I would learn life lessons from folding underwear!

Cheesy Update?

So, here's a brief update on Isabella and 'The Hoover'. Isabella has officially entered the terrible twos. She is however adorable at the same time. Today during a temper tantrum she bashed her head off my nose and I actually howled in pain and cried for a minute or two. Her head is solid stuff! As soon as I started crying she forgot what she was having a tantrum about and wiped away my tears and kissed my nose better. It's a funny balance between cute and misbehaviour here!

Her curiosity continues to grow each day and her questions and imagination continue to catch me off guard. I am astonished at the number of times a day she asks to go to school. When I tell her she's not yet old enough she grabs her keys and this toy she has that looks like a lunch box and heads to the door anyway. She stands at the front door for a bit and then comes down the hallway stating; "Honey I'm home, I had a great day!".

This is her trying to get in her bedroom while Nick paints the tall parts. Climbing was a little too painful for her. She has since figured out how to push out the bottom part and crawl under.

Brooklyn will be one in mere weeks, isn't it crazy? She has begun to develop a sense of humor that is uber cute. It's not giggley and hamish like Isabella's but more subtle and witty. She knows when she's doing something cute and eggs you on to laugh with her eyes. She's climbing well, cruising well and will walk beside you holding one hand. She sleeps so peacefully all night and two naps a day, (when it fits our schedule, one loooooong one when it doesn't). The only skill I think she is 'behind' Belle in is learning to use a spoon. I think I've mentioned before that Brooklyn is not a tidy eater. She really has no use for a spoon. But she inhales everything. I am pretty sure she actually ate more than me at supper yesterday, and she always eats her portion and what Belle leaves behind. I'm curious to see what her weight will be at one year, I'm thinking we hit the 'triple her birthweight' expected, (roughly 21 lbs).

This week Isabella tried pronouncing the word 'particularly'. She uses it in context and it cracks me up. 'I like my socks, paticularly the blue ones." I can hardly wait for them to have conversations with each other! I'm sure they'll be waxing eloquent far before I'm ready.

The warbled belly shot.

The belly shot looked normal when I uploaded it and everything but somehow it's quite warbled on the sidebar there. I'm too untechnological to fix it, I'll try and update it soon.

Things are going well, and as long as it's lasted being pregnant I am on the journey to the end. I now have appointments every two weeks, which to me always makes things go faster! Everything is still normal, good heartbeat, good blood pressure. I really just have uneventful pregnancies! The baby's head is down and I've already been getting a tonne of Braxton Hicks that take my breath away. I know that really doesn't mean anything as far as when this baby is going to be born, but it feels like the light at the end of the tunnel. A pleasant reminder that we truly aren't pregnant forever!

I Don't Want to Dissappoint

I have once again begun trying to go to Ladies Time Out at the church. I started going because the study really, really leapt out at me. We were going to be going through 'A Woman's Guide to Personal Discipline'. This seemed perfect for me right now as this year has been a struggle through disciplining myself. However, the books have not yet arrived, and so the leadership decided to go another way. I was uber disappointed. I'm going to order the study and do it myself. I am also going to continue going to LTO, if for nothing more than a break from my dear two year old.

This week while we were in the midst of the program shift the time was filled with a segment of a DVD series featuring Beth Moore. What a great speaker! Granted, my head hurt a bit from the video as in her enthusiasm it felt like she was yelling the entire time, but I really enjoyed the session.

Especially the line where she said:
'When we trust don't we so often say; God I trust you to do what I say.......... in Jesus name!'

Lately I've been thinking about trust and faith. As you know I began a job as a transcriptionist in July. I am an independant contractor for a firm. I have been given three hours of work in the last six weeks. This does not pay the bills. And so I struggle with the line between trust and irresponsibility. I'm just not sure where it is and as far as a 'feeling' on this issue lately I'm not feeling anything at all. But it's a struggle nonetheless. Should I be looking for another job? Or do I continue to be faithful to do work when it's provided and life as usual when it's not? It's a hard call for me. In the past I've always assumed that the answer is to go out and find another job guaranteeing the bills would be paid. When I talked to hubby he said maybe the reason we keep circling back to this place is because we haven't truly trusted God. We get close to not paying the bills and then find a solution ourselves.

And Beth Moore had so many poignant things to say on the topic. Like how we trust God to do things our way, not really his way, just the solution we can think up.

It's been a very challenging week for me to contemplate this. Still not sure where the line lies between faith and irresponsibility. Still knowing that God is able, but not sure that I don't need to do something in there.

I'm 30.

As in 30 weeks pregnant, I didn't suddenly skip three years of my life! I've been waiting to do a pregnancy post when I have an updated picture of the belly, but at this moment the camera batteries are spread among various pieces of technology we cannot operate without. I will take one and post it there on the right in the next day or two.

This pregnancy has been quite weird for me in several ways. The major one being that I have been pregnant forever. Can anyone remember when I posted that first ultrasound picture? I don't blame you if you can't, wasn't it sometime in the late 1900's? I am truly amazed at how I daily marvel at how quickly Brooklyn has grown from newborn to one-next-month and at the same time this pregnancy has most definitely surpassed it's expiry date.

However, on Thursday I went to get my RhoGAM shot and I had to go to the hospital to do so. I should have left early in order to deal with the assanine registration process at our hospital, but I put it off over and over. There was nothing in me that wanted to listen to other women labor. Finally I got to the hospital and they sat me in an empty delivery room. There I sat in the rocking chair looking at the bed all set up for the next laboring woman and the baby warmer there for the new babe. I started to get so nervous and tense and anxious. I am so ready to no longer be pregnant, but I'm not so much looking forward to the process of ending it. Luckily L&D was completely empty. Completely, as in not a single laboring woman, not a single newborn babe. The recovery beds were full of people from other wards all definitely beyond their procreation days. It took just shy of an hour for them to enter my name into a computer, go to the pharmacy to get the shot and come in to greet me. Then 30 seconds for them to stick me with the needle and send me on my way.

I have a love hate relationship with hospitals.

Another weird thing for me is that I'm totally nesting. I did not nest at all with either of the others. Possibly that was because we had major moves during both of my previous pregnancies, I don't know. There are little sticky note lists in each room about what must be accomplished in the next 10 weeks and we're working hard around nap times to decorate the girls rooms. I am actually looking at the calendar and scheduling time to have Nick move our major appliances so I can clean behind and under them. It's a bizarre thing for me.

Other than that it's pretty much pregnancy as usual. I have very mixed emotions about our third baby. I am totally excited for the possibility. I love that someone new will be joining our family, that we'll be able to snuggle a newborn again, that I get to make baby announcements and get all 'Anne Geddes Holiday Edition'. I'm excited to see Belle and Brooklyn welcome a new little person into our lives. It is very exciting. But on the other hand I so desperately want our next baby to be a boy. Both of us really, really do. I know that a healthy baby is the ultimate gift, and I don't want to belittle that in any way- I will be so content no matter what gender our baby is. It just might take me a few days post birth to get there. I was joking with a lady on Sunday that the real reason you can stay in the hospital after the baby is born is so that you can cry about whatever without having to entertain guests. Whether it be the birth going the completely opposite direction from your birth plan, or welcoming your third girl (ohmygosh the estrogen!), to the world. By the time the release you, you're all giggly and smiley and excited about this little person. I was a little shocked when she nodded in complete agreement. So, I don't think it makes me an awful person to admit that I will need a minute or two if we have another girl.

I think my computer time must be about up because the muse for this post is kicking me rather hard as if to say; "stand up lady I need a stretch!".

My Honesty

When I write posts like the last two and unleash unto cyberspace, (and a few readers), the thoughts which I am currently processing I don't do it to sound super spiritual; I don't do it hoping a bazillion people will leave a comment about how great I truly am. I write honestly because I honestly believe I am not the only one processing what I'm processing.

One of the greatest traps of being a woman is the compare game. And we all do it. Most of us probably do it on a regular basis. But we don't talk about it. We walk around pretending that we don't or saying honest things followed by a zillion giggles so that no one else feels uncomfortable.

And honestly that bugs me. I would much rather get to know the heart of each person I've ever known. To get to know you without your make up on, in your sweats, gobbling a pint of ice cream. I would rather get to know you at 3:00 am while soothing a colicky baby. One of my relational cravings is intentional personal relationships, and you can't get those if you're not honest and vulnerable.

So, my honesty is hopefully a door. A door to get to know you honestly. And that's all.

I am a Processor

When I read things or hear things I need to interact with them in order for them to sink in. I take notes in Church for that reason and like to ask a zillion questions. The following are some excerpts from a book I'm interacting with right now: "Gifts: The Joy of Serving God"

To be loved means to be chosen. The sense of being chosen is one of the very best gifts love bestows on the beloved. When I am chosen I am seen as unique. When I am chosen I am recognized as someone who has something to contribute. When I am chosen it means somebody wants me. I am not isolated or unconnected, I belong. That's what God does when he chooses, and he chose each one of us. But in our fallen world being chosen almost always means being chosen at the expense of someone else. It makes choseness competitive and the consolation prize envy.

Envy is the toxic bile of those who believe themselves to be unchosen. Envy is disliking God's goodness to someone else and dismissing God's goodness to me. Envy is desire plus resentment. But I cannot stop being envious simply by trying hard. Envy can only be healed when I come to live as one who has been chosen by God who loves each of his children with infinite uniqueness.

God holds out a certain joy for each of his children. There is however one way to lose your joy. To compare your gifts and feel the sinking sensation that the greater another person's gifts or talents the more you are diminished.

If you offer your gifts and humbly receive the gifts of others your joy will be made complete. If you don't you go through life wishing for the joy that belongs to others, you will end up feeling no joy at all.

When you notice envy or comparision rising up within you, don't berate yourself. Instead remind yourself that you are fully loved by God- no one else's achievements or life can diminish that.

From Mere Christianity: "We get no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man. We say people are proud of being rich, or clever or good looking but we are not. They are proud of being richer, or cleverer or better looking than others. It is the comparision that makes you proud, the pleasure of being above the rest."

Comparison kills community.

What would it take for you to be completely at peace with how God gifted you.

I Think Out Loud

I struggle with envy, it's true. I never thought of it as being envious of others gifts or how God made them; but fully acknowledge that I am envious of what others have. I am envious of people who own their own homes, of people who can go out shopping for things other than groceries. I am envious of women who look pretty or have stylish clothes. I am envious of what I perceive others have: like fuller social calendars and more friends. I am envious of people who have energy regardless of how little sleep they got and who are approached by complete strangers just because.

Envy doesn't keep me from doing things. I still volunteer, have people over, attempt to make new friends, I get up and keep trying after I fail. But envy keeps me from feeling joy. No matter how clean and welcoming my home is, it feels insignificant because someone else owns my home. When I go out with friends and I'm not the one who gets complimented I feel self conscious and nervous. When someone begins to share how God has blessed them materially I actually doubt His love for me instead of rejoicing in their blessing. I don't envy because I don't think the others deserve what they are getting. I don't envy because I want what they have.

I envy because I long to be chosen and I still view chosen as a fallen human. I crave to be the popular girl, not just the popular girl's invisible friend. I desire to have "it" as defined by the world. I envy because my mind is having trouble being renewed and my attitude re-written by God. Confession: There's nothing that I wouldn't give to walk into a room full of people, full of confidence in who I am and approach strangers simply because I believe there is value in them knowing me. I used to think that was an issue of self esteem, but am beginning to think it may be an issue of envy. Either way the path to freedom is love; and not love in the movies or even the love of a spouse. But His love. A love I will never fully comprehend but am hoping to embrace.

Blog Blankin

I've been having a few weeks of blankness as to what to write about on my blog. Do you ever have those weeks were it feels like everyone else has more of a life than you? I really have no idea what people do when they aren't with me, but it seems like everyone else leads a more fascinating life than me sometimes.

I don't have any children starting any grade of schooling. I'm not eagerly anticipating a new arrival. I haven't bought a new house or new toy, I'm not embarking on or returning from any exciting excursions.

Just a few weeks of regular life. I don't mind it, but it makes for some very boring blog fodder. And I find it makes me a bit pessimistic. What do you mean I haven't been invited out in two weeks, am I not cool enough anymore??

Next week we start putting some things in place schedule wise. Our weekly drop in time at the Early Years Center begins on Monday, we have Ladies Time Out on Thursday, our small group should be starting up again either this week or next I think. I've got crop nights beginning next friday. It will be nice to have a full schedule, I really am looking forward to being with people, outside of my house for a purpose other than buying groceries!

We've also begun decorating the kid's rooms so there will be some fun pictures of that in the next week. Stars and Moons and Princesses. And I should probably start documenting this pregnancy a bit better. I did pretty good with the first two babes, but I don't want Baby #3 to be the one without a baby book or any memoirs.

Even after all that airing of the brain I am stilll quite blank.

Brain Power

There's one thing that I didn't realize until recently. Ever since I left home I haven't been a very good eater. I like to eat. I even like to eat well. I even like to try new recipes. Nick will eat pretty much anything, then lick the design off of his plate and finish by asking to lick mine. He's just a hoover. Since we've had kids though I've really begun to dread my time in the kitchen.

I want them to eat well and I want to do the best I can. It's true that Isabella is currently in a hot dog/chicken nugget & fries/mac & cheese stage that I am not going to wage WW3 to get her out of, but I do strive to provide nutrition and learn more each day about what nutritous eating is.

The thing that makes being in the kitchen so dreadful for me is the inevitable ensuing headache. I am serving three to four different dietary demographics each time I make a meal. Nick being a 6'5" athletic guy who will use that as an excuse to eat 24/7, Isabella who can eat what we eat- the operative word being can, Brooklyn who is just moving from everything mushed to all things chewable and myself eating for two while hopefully never seeing 200.

I have always loved dinner and we have always eaten good dinners. I am a recent convert to breakfast and since it's new terrain I am enjoying figuring it out. Lunch, however, still eludes me and healthy snacks are a carribean island I've never been too. One nice thing about kids is that they need to eat every 3-4 hours or else everything crashes, so I at least have the reminder to eat on a regular basis.

I am determined to fix the mistakes I made during my breastfeeding attempts that I can now see in hindsight in order to make it a successful venture this time around and so eating has begun to consume even more brainpower than normal for me. I do not eat nearly the amount of calories recommended for a breastfeeding woman, and I'm not obsessed with my weight or anything like that, I just don't think to eat.

I just did up my second round of "Once a Month Cooking". (If you're going to try this method and I highly recommend it, give it at least two cooking attempts to decide if you like it. The first time is overwhelming but the second one is a lot better!). We've been eating food from our freezer for supper for only one week and already I can feel a weight lifted off my shoulders. With supper virtually off my mind I can turn my focus to those elusive carribean islands.

I wonder if I'm just odd that I don't think about food all. day. long. Has anyone else been on a journey like mine? What has helped you master the pyramid?