Breather

This afternoon, I finished a second read-through of a wonderful book...and now I'm at that strange, limbo-y place of being Between Books.  The better the book I've finished, the sharper the sense of detachment, of feeling as if I don't really know what I ought to be doing.  

I've been trying all afternoon, also, to post pictures recording our busy, eventful lives in the past week.  There are a lot of photos.  And despite my best efforts, they're still on my phone for some reason, and not shareable.  This is also a limbo-y feeling.  

I've been running "faster" than usual for the past two weeks, and parts of me (especially at the 5am alarm) really want to just do nothing.  Instead, we're going to use our Saturday to celebrate Lincoln's birthday with a family fun day, traveling up to Tupper Lake to enjoy the Wild Center and a hike up Panther Mountain.  This morning, I groaned at that prospect (the 5am alarm, you know), but now I'm really excited about it.  Even though it will mean that, yet again, our boys won't have proper naps, and I'll still be on-the-go.  

And that: Lincoln turned 5 yesterday!  I have to admit, I've been thinking of him as 5 for the past few months (just as I've thought of myself as 30 long before the actual event last week).  But it's real, it's official, and at some point I'll realize and process that in a way that hits home.  

Summer has almost begun.  Almost.  Lincoln will graduate pre-k on Monday.  But I found out today that he does have a school day Tuesday.  Good thing I was there when another parent had a question about Tuesday this morning--I had no idea!  The kid would have missed his last day of school!  Andy's last day is Wednesday.  

And then we get to start Project Season, earn Master's credits, take big and little family trips, go on our first real Vacation, plan and execute a 3-day vacation Bible school, get together with friends more often, and try to stay breezy and beautiful while I keep getting more pregnant.  :0)  Oh, and do some SLEEPING!  :0D  

And I keep having a thought that I heard on NPR the other day, while I'm wandering aimlessly and "relaxing" but really just wasting time on Facebook (and trying to post pictures): our Leisure Time is stressing us out, because we fritter it away on things that aren't actually what we want to be doing.  

Hmm.  

So, even though I'm still looking at a screen to do this, at least I'm looking at my blog screen, sharing bits of my brain with you.  That's got a little purpose and satisfaction to it--and we all know that satisfaction really ought to be a tangible product of leisure time.  

And now, to get this bedtime show on the road.  Because we've made this big plan for tomorrow!  

"Mommy, Are We The Corduroy Boys Yet?"

For the Almanac: Mama Notes, etc.

May 8, 2015, at approximately 4:45pm, the black flies hatched in Lyons Falls.  I so enjoyed my short season of heavenly weather, when being outside, and having our home all open to the outdoors, was nothing but pleasure.  This is the "etc."  This is just for posterity, so I can look back and compare seasons at some point in the future.  That's the beauty of almanacs :0)
This is a whimsical version of a black fly, on the Adirondack Carousel in Saranac Lake.  

On this day one year ago, I was eating Mother's Day breakfast at Minella's Diner in Wayne, PA.  I was there with my hubby and boys, my own mom and dad, and my brother and Miss Kathryn--celebrating not only mama-hood (and grandma-hood), but my brother's college graduation.  What a weekend!

On this day five years ago, even though Lincoln hadn't quite arrived yet, people began celebrating me as a mother for the first time.  So now, for 1/6th of my life, I have been a mama.  That doesn't sound long enough for how life-changing and all-consuming being a mama is.  It's wonderful, and hard, and always a paradox of speed and slowness.  

Here are my boys now; hit fast-forward between the previous picture and this.  Taken at the Utica Zoo, May 4, 2015.

Today I am 18 weeks pregnant with my last baby, and it is a treasure.  In two weeks we'll find out if we'll welcome another beautiful boy or the marvel of a baby girl into our family.  This process, more than just being a marvel, a miracle, is also a strange sadness.  I am carrying our last baby, and I have friends carrying their last babies, and in a very real way, it's (the beginning of) the end of an era.  That's pretty intense.  But full of good things.   

My Heart Gave a Start

The last time I wrote to you for real (read, "hit Publish") was February 15.  That is literally the longest stretch I haven't chatted with you since I began writing this Life Epistle three-plus years ago.  

I tried three times.  The first unpublished go is just ironic, so here it is: 

My Lewis is three years old today.  I keep being surprised when I think about how much time has passed since he joined our family.  And when I think about it, I lament the fact that I've recorded essentially zero information about his growth and development, his likes and dislikes, his endearing little habits.  
If I picked one word to describe my second son, i

I am sitting here laughing at myself.  That one word, by the way, is Sweet.  He is everything sweet.  Also fierce.  But mostly sweet.  

My second go was longer, chronicling how I was feeling at 9 weeks of pregnancy.  But I hadn't told you I was pregnant yet, and back then I was afraid to, and didn't know how to. So it stayed put in my Post list.

The most recent attempt was meant to tell you why I haven't written in so long, and to tell you that I am pregnant.  And then I just got tired of writing something long and pithy, and added this baby as a #3 in a Facebook post, to see how many of you would catch it.  A surprising number of you did!  I am flattered that you would read my paragraph post all the way through.  Thanks :0)  

And, so you don't feel like I'm completely ignoring this child (I am certainly not, but it's possible--though I hope against it--that I'll record less than "essentially zero information" about my last Baby)...here is a picture of my baby bump, taken almost three weeks ago at about 14 weeks along:

So there's a snapshot of What I Didn't Tell You, the reStart of my Heart.  And now for last night's heart-starting thoughts...

Yesterday Lewis had to learn about consequences.  Obviously, he's dealt with consequences before, but last night was kind of a biggie.  While the rest of us were downstairs, he wrestled with the easel in their bedroom so he could get into the game closet.  He toppled that over in a crash--no biggie, nobody was hurt.  But when I went up and got him freshly bathed, and freshly 'jama-ed, and it was time to clean up the room, we began to have a problem.  You see, he asks for help with the cleanup of all messes.  So I helped him by cleaning up all the game pieces he had gotten out, the wooden animals he had set up, the various toys scattered about, by uprighting the easel, by (finally) putting away the stacks of clean laundry all over the room.  His job?  To pick up the crayon pieces that had spilled out of the easel.  Would have taken him 5 minutes, tops.  

But he has this thing where he just refuses to start a job, because it's so daunting to him. I explained how I had helped him, by doing EVERYTHING ELSE.  And that if he chose not to clean up those crayons, I would not read him any bedtime stories.  He had already had his mouth washed with soap earlier in the day for flat-out telling me "no" over and over for the thing I had asked of him, and we had had issues with getting bath time started. It wasn't like I was pulling out the Big Guns of No Stories Tonight for a first-level offense. 

Well, not only did he refuse to put the crayons away, but while I was focused on getting shirts in the shirt drawer, he decided to draw a purple picture all over the carpet.  

So that was that.  And sticking to that consequence was a bitter pill for him to swallow, and a hard thing for mama to stick to.  It's heart-breaking to listen to your child deal with the sorrow of a bad consequence.  But learn that his choices matter?  He must.  Sigh.  

Here's my Lewis in a happier frame of mind, just so you can agree with me over how cute he is. 

And then, after things had settled down a bit, I moved across the room to say prayers with Lincoln.  I was so, so proud of him last night, because the pieces clicked into gear and he figured out how to ride his bike without daddy to hold onto him.  He has training wheels, but I mean, this kid was so nervous about tipping over that wouldn't let Andy let go of his jacket, and his "fast" speed was a Lewis-paced walking speed, and he really hadn't gotten the hang of pedaling.  So when, last night, he had a breakthrough and was suddenly bicycling around Continental Circle, then down to the end of Markham Street and back, with Andy often needing to run to keep up with him?  Yep, proud mama.  Here's my bike-riding champ.

So my heart was full with thinking of my son's accomplishment.  And then, I don't know, I just kept thinking as I prayed for him, about the fact that this week, he proudly announced that he knows how to spell "fox," and promptly sounded it out and spelled it for me.  He's going to be reading before long, and a whole new magical world will be his to discover.  About the fact that he's already a little gamer, playing almost-nightly rounds of Minecraft or Warcraft with Andy.  About the fact that he stunned me last evening, also, by suddenly being able to make most of his shots into the Little Tykes basketball hoop, with a pretty natural-looking shot.  He must get that from daddy.  About the fact that he's begun asking if we can invite his school friends over to play, almost daily desiring their company.  About the fact that when I bring him a gift of a pine cone from Beaver Camp, he isn't enamored with it the way he used to be, not very long ago.  About the fact that my boy is growing up.  Fast.  

The tears were running down my face as I prayed.  Fortunately, I was whispering that prayer, so I didn't need to struggle with frog-voice.  And I don't think he noticed the tear tracks when he kissed my cheek.  

But my heart gave a start to ponder such things.  It was a little, treasured Mary Moment: "But Mary treasured up all these things (all these mysterious, miraculous things that already surrounded her baby son) and pondered them in her heart."  Luke 2:19

He Promises Life!

I have been Waiting for the better part of eight months.  

Dr. Seuss describes the Waiting Place...a most useless place...

...for people just waiting.  Waiting for a train to goor a bus to come, or a plane to goor the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snowor waiting around for a Yes or Noor waiting for their hair to grow.Everyone is just waiting.  

But you know what?  It isn't a useless place.  It isn't a fun place--but it has Purpose.  

I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I haven't said written much in my cyber world lately.  Because I haven't really known what to Say.  I mean, I'm Waiting, and it hasn't been very feel-good.  There's enough feel-bad already, and I don't need to add to it for you.  Sure, I share a complaint sometimes, but when I'm feeling generally dull-blue, I just don't share it.  I'd rather build you up.  
So here's a quick picture of my waiting: I've been waiting for a baby.  We began trying for a baby last August, and were given a great gift when we found out I was pregnant in October.  But Libi was a short-lived gift, and I lost our baby at about 6 weeks (though that process, too, was drawn out over several Waiting Weeks).         

My Last Pregnancy

I seem to have begun a pattern of insomnia.  Which is too bad, since I am usually very, very tired.  I sleep fine for the first part of the night, and then lie awake, or semi-conscious, for some hours.  I'm already uncomfortable--I realized that now, at 9 weeks, I can't spend any time comfortably on my stomach anymore; and I'm too warm (but outside the covers is too cold); sometimes, like last night, I felt suddenly nauseous when I unfolded and sat up straight after reading.  And my brain just won't turn off.  So I lie awake.  

I have had almost zero nausea though.  For the first weeks of this pregnancy, I was sort of praying for some morning sickness, as a sign that You are knitting together a girl in me.  But then I had a 24-hour tummy bug a few weeks ago--and I am SO glad You have not granted that particular request, Father!  I would much rather be tired than nauseous.  

My skin has been perpetually broken out.  

Though I'm not nauseous, my gag reflex seems to be extra sensitive, and most times I brush my teeth I have to hold in a gag when the toothbrush goes just a little too far back.  
I am able now to feel my uterus within me, a little tug against it when I stretch my middle, such as when I kneel by Lewey's bed to say bedtime prayers.  

I often look pretty pregnant.  Which I like right now.  But I realize that when I'm 9 weeks in and look like I did at 20 weeks with Lincoln, this could be a long and uncomfortable pregnancy.  I am way out of shape, and my muscles are not prepared to easily support this baby.  I already feel a touch of sciatica in my left hip.  

Help me to make time and prioritize exercise, Father.  I know the main reason Lincoln's pregnancy was so fantastic, and almost certainly why labor was so quick and smooth, was because I started in good shape, and remained very active throughout my pregnancy.  I walked, swam, did baby mama yoga...  Now I start breathing hard pushing Lewis in the stroller up Markham Street.  

Maps

When my husband and I are driving in unfamiliar territory, I am his co-pilot.  He relies on me to tell him where to go, and if I forget that he doesn't know where he's going one of two things happens: he'll either keep driving like he knows what's up until I realize we're way off track, or he'll just stop at an intersection and not go until I catch on to his waiting and tell him which way we ought to be turning.  Earlier in our marriage there were some awkwardly long intersection waits before I realized he needed my directions, but I've gotten quicker on the uptake :0)

I usually need directions to a new place once (and to travel there), and I'll be able to go back again without a refresher, even quite a time later.  And so it's hard for me to fathom how my hubby can NOT have remembered how to get to a place after what seems like LOTS of repeat visits.  (Also, I like to change up the scenery, so I will go to a place like my parents' house by lots of different routes...so some of hubby's confusion falls on my head...(maniacal laugh).)  

Anyway, he's a little hopeless with getting places.  Until he's studied a map.  If he can look at a map, he can get us there, and knows generally what neck of the woods we're in even when he hasn't been on a particular route.  

Don't we all wish for the map to some degree?  To know what's coming, to see the big picture, the Plan?  Of course we do.  Some of us handle go-with-the-flow muuuuch better than others, but there are times when every one of us just wants to Know.  

And while macadam roads aren't really that big a deal, the roadmap of life--what we're supposed to do, where we're supposed to go, what opportunities we're supposed to accept and decline, what the heck that heartbreak or hiccup was all about--those things are the stuff of heart-peace.  Or the lack of it.  

And for those questions, there's only one good answer:

"Thomas said to him, 'Lord, we do not know WHERE you are going.  How can we know the way?'  Jesus said to him, 'I AM THE WAY, the truth, and the life."  

And a few minutes later (and this is right before he was betrayed by Judas and taken to be brutally murdered...which he knew about from his Father Map), he told his friends, "PEACE I leave with you; my peace I give to you.  Not as the world gives do I give to you.  LET NOT YOUR HEARTS BE TROUBLED, neither let them be afraid."  

Follow Him.  He knows where He's leading you.