Naked as the day she was born

Well, you know, plus a tee-shirt and baby leg-warmers.


We potty-train in style 'round these parts.

Lil' half-pint better get this down soon. Cold weather's a-comin'.

"Why yes, yes she is..."

I am constantly getting comments about how cute/sweet/adorable/brilliant/verbal, etc. my little Evangeline is. And of course I am very modest about such compliments and follow them up with something like, "Yeah, well, you should see her when she's tired" or "She's not really that smart... she has yet to read through all the classics..."

But in this post, false modesty is going out the window.

Why, yes, yes she is cute/sweet/adorable/brilliant/verbal and FUNNY. And kinda weird and quirky, too. Like how the little sunspots on my arms are called "frinkles", or how her BabyLegs legwarmers (she insisted on wearing ONE of them, inside out, around the house all day yesterday) are called "sock-warmers".) Or perhaps how she insists on sleeping cuddled with a plastic Pooh cup that she received as a party favor (she puts an extra pacifier in it and calls it her Nukie cup). And it was bad enough when she decided that she must wear Dad's Creation toboggan hat to sleep... but then she found one of mine and insists on wearing BOTH to bed (her nightcap[s] so to speak... I need a few myself these days.) Or like how a few minutes ago, I asked her to help me make her bed (a task she generally enjoys, but she was feeling a bit persnickety this morning) and she manages to choke out, between gut-wrenching sobs, "I can't do it!!! I'm NOT a hard worker!!" Or today, when we were reading in Matthew about how little ones have their own angel, and Evie said, "I go to Jesus' house and see my angel." Sometimes if I'm feeling a little hormonal and overwhelmed and weepy, she'll come over and rub my back and say, "Mama, are you tired? Your belly hurts? It's ok, mama. Don't cry; it will be okay, mama."

I LOVE this kid. There's a lot of things I never anticipated about parenthood--ie, the utter disgusting-ness of toddler poop, or the overall toll that two years without sleeping through the night has on a mama--but perhaps the greatest is this: I never anticipated how deeply, and with such raw emotion, you could love these tiny little people. I'm overwhelmed by God's kindness to me-- not just that I get to be a mama, but that I get to be a mama to THESE sweet babies, that they are my family, my responsibility, my joy.

Faux Hawk

Did I give my youngest one a faux hawk this morning using some leftover hair-texturing putty I found in the bottom of the bathroom drawer?

Well, of COURSE I didn't.

I mean, she's a GIRL, for crying out loud. Plus, I would never put those nasty chemicals NEAR my child's head.

Never.

My newest niece

Am I allowed to call her that? I think I am. She feels like my family, and I've never met her.

Meet Fritzie.


I don't know her background; I haven't heard her story. But I do know this-- she has not been left as an orphan; Christ has come to Fritzie (John 14v8)-- in this case, using the hands and feet of my sister Gwenn and her husband Nick. She will join their family at Haitian Children's Home on Monday.

This is the Gospel, friends. Not multimillion dollar church buildings, not concerts with lights and fog machines, not a set of legalistic ideals that could purchase a pardon. A child was alone; she now has a mama and a daddy. She has a sister and two rascally brothers-- and many more siblings to come. In a sin-drenched world gone heart-breakingly awry, this is hope. This is Christ. This is the Gospel.

Life on the outside...

Outside of the sling, that is. Lest people think that all that there is to Cana is a tuft of spiky black hair, here is iPhoto evidence to prove otherwise.




And that startled, "What the *@#$ is going on?!?!" look? Yeah, that's permanent.

New Sheriff in town...

Evie was playing with the little neighbor boys the other day, and they emerged from the basement like this. I love dress-up.

everything is sacred

I was on facebook last night, 'cause you know, that's what I do and it's more fun than say, scrubbing the toilet. And I came across some friends' album from their recent trip to NYC. They are awesome people, and they were awesome photos. You know, swimming in fountains at Central Park and going out to comedy clubs till the wee smas. And as I looked through picture after picture, I felt something stirring in me. Jealousy? Regret? I'm not sure that I could pinpoint the exact emotion, but it wasn't pretty. In my typical "grass is always greener" fashion, I was comparing my life to theirs. I'm not really an adventure-taker, married very young to another non-adventure-taker. So it follows that my life is rather ho-hum at times. You know, wake up when the kids wake up, clean up various and sundry bodily fluids throughout the day (theirs, not mine), scrub marker off the wall, read board books, more bodily fluids, try to rest when the girls sleep (but they seem to have devised a twisted little version of Whack-a-Mole-- the one where as soon as Thing #1 goes down, Thing #2's sweet little head bobs up in awakeness and loud demands of milk. I mean, not that I would bash their heads in to make them go back to sleep or anything. But I have considered it. )

It's just, you know... monotonous. And it's just, you know... beautiful. I realized this the other day: I may have missed the boat (for now) on trips of international intrigue or all night pub sessions, but--Jesus, help me be grateful!--this is what I have always wanted. Since I was a little girl, I have wanted a little girl. In His kindness, God has given me two. I have wanted a home and a husband who loves me; I sometimes feel as if the ones I have are insufficient :) but God has given me this home, this husband, these children, in His infinite wisdom and in His unfathomable goodness. This is His plan for me, and it is for my good.


Help me to find joy in this, Jesus! In every giggle, every pout, every diaper change, and every late-night nursing, every opportunity for correction-- help me to serve these little ones, help me to serve my husband-- as service to YOU.

Everything is Sacred
Caedmon's Call

this house is a good mess
it’s the proof of life
no way would I trade jobs
but it don’t pay overtime

I’ll get to the laundry
I don’t know when
I’m saying a prayer tonight
cause tomorrow it starts again

could it be that everything is sacred?
and all this time
everything I’ve dreamed of
has been right before my eyes

the children are sleeping
but they’re running through my mind
the sun makes them happy
and the music makes them unwind

my cup runneth over
and I worry about the stain
teach me to run to You
like they run to me for every little thing

when I forget to drink from you
I can feel the banks harden
Lord, make me like a stream
to feed the garden

wake up, little sleeper
the Lord, God Almighty
made your Mama keeper
so rise and shine,rise and shine
rise and shine cause

everything is sacred
and all this time
everything I’ve dreamed of
has been right before my eyes