I think it's Spring

Some years Spring comes early.  Well, not really early, but earlier.  And some years Spring doesn't really seem to elude the long fingers of Winter until June.  I'm actually not exaggerating this time (I always speak in hyperbole)...  as ten years ago, when my youngest sister got married on the FIRST warm day of the year--May 22--, we're looking at June and it seems like I might not need my down parka this week. ( I did see fur-lined hoods last week, for the record.)  I know, don't move here.

My tulips are belying my words.  But somehow these tough little flowers managed to bloom during the moments of hope, when the sun shined.

With the plentiful Spring rains, comes plentiful Spring mud.  One of these girls is headed off to high school next fall.  What will I do, watching my little neighborhood friends grow up?!

Do you know the book "The Blueberry Pie Elf?"  I have my own in the house!  Bilbo made two blueberry pies on Saturday, and Legolas just had to have the leftovers for "breakfast" on Sunday!

I have this baby.

 Love of my life.

 And this baby, cat-lover, looking at her Senior year in high school.  Love these children so much.  Make them stop growing!!

 My happy place--not quite finished yet!  We need hanging flowers for the summer.  But do you love my new chimes?!! They are my favorite ever!!

My "kitchen madonna" (have you read Rumor Godden's "The Kitchen Madonna?").  Must read for littles.

There are my quick takes for the day!

Late April Out-takes

I had hoped it wasn't true.  It was.  It snowed yesterday.  This morning we woke to Spring sunshine, and snow that would melt before morning was over.

Honestly, it was beautiful.  Spring sun on snow.

Sitting pretty.  Wilma is definitely the queen of the house...funny, because our dog is named "Reina".

We haven't really seen the sun since the snow.  Rain, fog.  This is Bilbo soaking in the rays that did come in April...before the return of snow.  And with this hopeful vision, I await beautiful days in May, with lots of warm sunny pictures of flowers blooming!

Moving Day

My sister had the cutest little starter home, and she said that she would never move.  She said she'd fit them in somehow.  And she would have.  But, after the twins and then her newborn, her little single child family was suddenly a group of 4.  Their house was a two-bedroom, and with two boys and two girls, something had to give.  By God's providence a dream house (that they had drooled over a year ago and not been able to afford) had come back on the market, and this time, it was possible.  Still by His providence, their offer was accepted--just weeks after their newborn was born (actually, I think it was the week after he was born!)  

I was called by a sister today, attempting to move (houses) with an 8 week old and two-year-old twins, and her oldest, who is seven.  I dashed over, grabbed the kiddos (not the infant) and drove home [we live 30 seconds down the road].  Bilbo (11) started reading to twin A and Rosie (8) took twin B to the front yard to go down a Fisher Price slide.  The 7 year old was simply off somewhere with the rest of my kids, playing.  Oh yes--I had set them up with water colors outside and they were painting  rocks (that's where they were).  I started chopping celery for my sister's chicken salad for dinner.

Then I got another call.  There was an infant crying.  My desperate sister needed me to come hold the baby!  Ummm...yes, I have a 14 year old as well on hand (everyone else was gone at baseball games and friends' houses).  So, I gave orders: kids, you're all babysitting!  Gimli was officially in charge.  Rosie had twin B and Bilbo had twin A.  We were good.  I drove back to my sister's house and I held an 8 week old angel for about an hour while my postpartum sister scoured her tubs and sinks so the kids could all have a bath in a sanitized bathroom in their new house that night.

I held that little ball of fluff until the bathrooms were clean and the twin cribs were assembled by my brother-in-law.  Then I passed my little nephew back to his mama and I ran home to grab that dinner I was working on, and the kids.

My (sister's) sweet little twins toddled up to their home for the first time.  I hope I never forget the vision of my young, beautiful sister walking her twin's in and saying "come into our new home! This is our new home!"  I wondered how many years they would live there.  Will I see wedding showers in that home?  The 7-year-old showed Rosie around the entire house in about 3 minutes.  They squealed and ran and jumped.

I came home and fed my own children, then we took baths, my boys (yes) cleaned for me, and I read books to my little ones.  Sam needed to go to bed.  So did Eowyn.

My big boys are waiting for Dad and Aragorn to come home from a game that they almost won.

Home.  It's a big word.  Moving is a big deal.  I didn't want to fail to record today's milestone in my sister's life.  I'm so honored to have been part of it.

My Surprise Babies

Anna, from In Honor of Design blog is instagraming about her surprise baby and the gift that she is.  I was thinking about if I had a surprise baby, and the first to come to mind was Eowyn.  We had the stomach flu that winter and I was nauseated for about two months.  But with 7 children, the flu had cycled through the family once and then the first to get it were re-infected by the last to get it...you get it: rough winter!  But sometime early Spring I had a day set apart from the kids' sickness when I had yet another wave of nausea and that time it dawned on me that I might be pregnant.  I took a test, and yes.  I hadn't had a cycle after Legolas (#7) so, it was a surprise.

I instantly got onto some website and calculated my due date and landed Christmas Eve!! I was so pumped! But then came my next surprise.

I went to the ob/gyn and she wanted a quick check ultrasound to confirm dates given my lack of cycle.  There was a darling, swimming and playing little ballerina (I didn't know it was a girl yet), 10 weeks old!! As I've said before, my Christmas Elf became myThanksgiving Turkey!  I was already almost two months along!  That was a real surprise!

So, that's the story that came first to mind...

but of course, I never did get a cycle after I got married.  Honeymoon baby.  I WAS surprised. I guess she wasn't "unplanned", although I certainly wasn't planning on anything, we were just open.  And as I counted my calendar dates from the office I was working in at the time, I began to hope.  Then I began to doodle girl names at my desk.  My husband did NOT believe me when I told him I thought I was pregnant.  We had to buy three boxes of tests.  I'm not sure WHAT I did wrong, but sure enough--I finally got that positive!  My husband, for one, was shocked.  I was ecstatic!

I guess Arwen counts as surprise baby #1.

We were trying and hoping by the time Aragorn was conceived.  But at 9 months out, with no cycle yet, Gimli was our second true surprise.

I didn't think of him as a "surprise" baby, because I (in my very youthful enthusiasm) had already been hoping for another.  But when I told my husband I thought I might be pregnant (as I whipped up spaghetti at 2 in the afternoon to satisfy an insatiable craving), he said, "you can't be: you haven't had a cycle yet".  Well, shock #2 for my husband, and our beloved Gimli came as the best gift his big brother could have ever received.  At 18 months apart, those two have been each other's greatest gifts.

So, I think that's it.  Three TRUE surprise babies.  Two conceived with no cycle in between babies.

For YEARS I could count how many cycles I had in our marriage on one hand.  But that's probably TMI for the inter webs! lol

Time to dash!  Have a great weekend!

On life, and death

My husband's father passed into eternal life on February 16th.  That was the reason we had spent Christmas 1500 miles away: to be with him for a final holiday. We had the luxury, and the great blessing, of knowing his time was short.  He also was not a young man, but 86.  He had lived a good, full life.  The hardest part was that he was still so strong and vibrant when he was diagnosed back in October.  It still seemed like he was taken unnaturally soon.

But we were able to prepare our children, and ourselves.  Except, I now see, there is no preparing.  You have to live it out, the loss, one step at a time.  

My husband had flown down 8 days before his death and was able to say goodbye.  We had daily updates, and my husband had a plane ticket purchased to go one more time.  That ticket was never used.  I was at ballet with my little girls when I got a text: "call me when you get a chance".  I thought  it was a family orchestration text, that I'd have to dash off to get the next kid to basketball.  I heard my husband's voice on the other line: "my dad died at 8:15 this morning."

You wouldn't think it would hit you like that.  Not when you knew it would happen.  But I was shocked.  And in the middle of a waiting room full of pink tulle and moms on phones.  I took deep breaths and tried to keep the tears in.

 My sister was due any day with her fourth baby, a boy, named for an angel: Rafael, "God heals".   She happens to have two-year-old twins, and I happen to love being 30 seconds down the road from their house, so I can be on call when she's in labor.  I had to leave to make a cross-country trek for a funeral instead.

 We found a friend to keep our dog this time (best decision ever!), but took Wilma, and headed out.

 The deep snow of the midwest gave way to the scape of the southwest, one more time.

I think that long drive was healing.  Long long hours to talk, to reflect, to process, to think.  To cry.

And then, then we walked into that home.  My in-laws home.

And it felt so. very.  empty.

But there was joy.  The death had been holy.  There had been a victory--the victory of a life well-lived triumphing over death in the hope of resurrection.  There was a woman of faith, made strong by grace.  My mother-in-law, bearing the loss of her husband with incredible strength, faith, hope.

We all talked, remembered, and cried together for two days.  Then there was the funeral, and the burial.  Family members flew in from across the country.  More tears, and long long hugs.  Abundant grace.

Then something of a let-down, and a quiet after the ceremonies passed.  Sadness.  A need to buoy each other up.  To remind one another of the graces received, of the gifts and the joy and the hope.  Newfound resolve, for the days do pass, and the world doesn't wait long for those who mourn.  And we found ourselves looking at the return, just a week after we had arrived.

Back home there were rumblings of impending labor.  As we drove, there were texts.  Hopeful texts, excited texts.  Hours away from home, that final 14-hour day of driving, we received the play-by-play.  Her husband was home, my mom was on-call from work.  Now they are off, my mom had the kids.  Waiting.  Driving.

The announcement: he is here!!  A beautiful, healthy nephew!  A new life to meet, precious and fresh.

A new soul, beginning it's journey home.

We are all journeying home.

Christmas Memories

When a mother of nine is faced with the prospect of traveling 2,000 miles to celebrate Christmas with her in-laws, she either embraces it or heads for her bed, going fetal under the covers.

So, there need to be Christmas outfits.  Just SOME appropriate outfit, definitely WITHOUT all of the trapesings and trappings.  And then enough clothes, just any old clothes, to get through with a wash machine available for use.

There will have to be presents, because some of these kiddos, four of them, are ten-and-under, and they need something to surprise them on Christmas morning (we decided).

The rest is provided by the loving relatives who await us!  Gramz scored big with a giant-sized Jenga game.

We watched movies, hung out, played pool, and ate out a ton.

Gramz pulled out her old nativity set that my big kids remembered from their early childhood, when it was still possible for us to travel on Christmas with relative ease.  (Relative).

And though we were "Down South", we got our White Christmas!

 Tons of cousin fun.

Lots of sparkle, feasting and festivity.

 I'm pretty sure that every Christmas needs a two-year-old.  Christmas morning with the little toys of dolls and train sets make it so magical.

It's true.  Home is where we're all together.  It was a joyful Christmas, and a family memory made!

How we Winter

Apparently my method of blogging these days is to go far too long, scroll my phone for pictures, and then recap life in 5 minutes or less.  Here goes!  Your January update:

After ballet on Saturday mornings, it has become a tradition to take my girls around the corner to a Panera and get them something special for breakfast, and coffee for me!  Two weeks ago, Rosie saw some fancy bakery with cherries on top and longed to try them.  Last week, I let her and Eowyn each get one--they were so excited!  I guess it's the little things.  I love being able to spoil a kid or two now and then.  My kids are plenty spoiled, but it's special when I get just a couple apart from the group.

Monday was a blizzard, Wednesday and Thursday were the coldest temperatures I remember, though my father claims he's seen worse.  Schools were closed, businesses were closed.  Lots of basketball was cancelled (yay!).  We hunkered down and drank gallons of hot chocolate.  (Literally.  I buy the milk around here).

 Igloo courtesy of Bilbo.

 One of the best things about homeschooling is that we never need to take a "snow day".  We did have a movie afternoon on Wednesday because I forbade my children from leaving our house with -50 windchill!

Wilma in the schoolroom is still one of our favorite things.  Rosie keeps treats in her desk just to share with Wilma when she comes visiting during school time.  That alone makes me think every child should be homeschooled.  Not that all homeschoolers have fluffy cats on their desks.  But doesn't it seem like fun?  What distraction?  We are very serious academics around here.

I guess that's about it.  Snow, cold, and a little school room fun.  It's how we Winter!:)