Spring!

It's here - I think - but then snow may fall from the sky and I'll have to recind. I think we're on our way into spring and summer of 2008. We're loving it here, and already the baby has grass stains on his feet that won't scrub off.

March was a blast. Early in the month we took Levi to Children's Hospital to rule out cystic fibrosis (yes, it was negative). A few blocks from the hospital is a big, free zoo - Lincoln Park Zoo. I highly recommend going in the late winter - there may have been 20 people there total. It was mid 30's, no snow, and relatively warm as compared to the rest of the winter. We saw SO many amazing things that we'd never enjoy in the summer - a face-to-face stare down with the King of the Jungle, the male lion, who topped it off with a few hearty ROARS. Hearing a lion's roar while you're about 20 inches away is amazing, even if it wasn't as vicious as it would be in the wild. We had up-close experiences with Silverback gorillas, orangutans, Bengal tigers (and every big cat you can think of). The kids got to pet a reptile and see bats and alligators. Pink flamingos. Camels (very cold camels). A sleep brown bear. Probably the BEST part was the polar bear, who was swimming in loops under the water towards a huge glass observation wall. We would stand against the glass with our arms extended and the polar bear would swim up to us, squeaking his nose against the glass in front of our faces and bang on our hands with his enormous paws. He appeared the love the game, though in his mind I'm sure he was thinking, If I could just get through this tough piece of ice, I'd eat you up!!!! We could've stayed there all day, the kids shrieking every time he came around. But the temp dropped a few degrees and the sleet began... so we headed home. A beautiful family day at the zoo in March!

Holy week came and went in a flash. I participated with worship leading on Good Friday - the day that we received 14" of SNOW in a matter of hours. But the services were beautiful and profound. And the Easter Bunny did manage to sneak in and distribute a few goodies of chocolate and Levi-friendly sugar on the second floor as Izak and I watched a wonderful orchestral piece on PBS. Levi came down with a rapid 6-hour flu that knocked his socks off, but the kids did well-health wise until a few weeks ago when they got some sort of bug with high fevers and cold symptoms. It wasn't a big deal until I got it and I felt like I was going to die. But here I am...

Friday Izak learned how to ride his big bike without his training wheels! He picked it up in about 30-seconds. An absolute natural. His line of questioning has taken on a spiritual tone - a few times a week he asks me if we're going to be going to the New Earth. "Oh, I can't wait to go!" (We've established that the New Earth is Heaven for now.) He names people who have passed on as residents of New Earth. The other days he asks, "Where do people's dead bodies go to wait until they rise from the dead?" (Yes, I said the cemetery.) He wondered if "God made a mistake" when He created a little girl in our church who died at the age of 10 with a sick heart. "Absolutely not. God never, ever makes a mistake, even if something sad happens or people get sick." You need to eat your Wheaties and study your theology before you engage this kid in the morning! Whew! Liberty is braving a larger frame bike with Izak's old training wheels. She's become my little computer geek, with an intuitive ability to understand and navigate all the little kid websites. Her latest round of art involves super heros, SuperLiberty, who flies in the air with her cape with an "S." She's also setting things in front of her and attempting to sketch what she sees - there's an impressive penguin hung in my kitchen! Levi is my pretend-play boy, with many conversations and re-enactments centered around Larry-Boy, Nemo, and Kipper the dog. His talking is non-stop from sun-up to sun-down. And the faces... by far the most funny one of all!

There have been moments lately when I think, Okay... stop. I could stay in these moments for a good long while. Stop growing. Stop changing. This is great just like this. I feel like I've done the baby phase pretty thoroughly. I celebrated when I took the baby seat out and looked at the gallery of booster seats. I hope to kiss the last batch of diapers good-bye this summer. Baby, done. Toddler, mostly done. Welcome, Preschool and Kindergarten. And the best part is that I was here for it, I had the opportunity to be a stay-at-home mom. What a privilege.

He can't breathe

My little Levi. He really struggles with his lungs. It's been series after series of steroids since November. We're now the proud owners of an allergist and a pediatric pulmonologist. We've spent thousands on testing and meds.

One day, in my desperation to solve his wheezing problems, I attacked the closet in his bedroom. There were stacks of boxes from the move, a dusty old suitcase big enough to hold at least two of the kids, and other unused items. I pulled everything out and vacuumed like a crazy woman. ( The kids are aware that Levi doesn't have the easiest time health-wise, and often make their own assessments about why things are different for Levi. "That cookie will make him sick?" "Levi can't go there because they have a dog and that will make him sick?" "Does milk have milk in it so Levi can't have it 'cuz it will make him sick?") Well, I cleaned for a good hour and hauled the over-sized, dusty luggage into my bedroom. Izak came in, immediately interested in the huge black box. "Mom, why is that in your room now?" "Because it might be making Levi sick (running my finger through the dust)." "So... now Levi's allergic to suitcases too?"

Good friends

I am beginning to enjoy my children's love of one another more and more. They really are becoming very good friends, navigating conflict, understanding and accommodating differences, and enjoying the levels of silliness that each one brings. I don't know how much is nature and how much is nurture, but part of being home as much as I am enables me to be in their relational business every time they turn around. Libby was in the front hall the other day, having a conversation aloud with herself. She said, "Izak is my good friend. (pause) Levi... (long silence) Levi is my good friend." And I unconsciously exhaled a prayer a thanks.

Backbone

If you've survived the toddler years, if you're in the toddler years... then you need one. A backbone. A certain amount of "you are absolutely too short and have too poor of a vocabulary to control me" kind of attitude. I joke that when I'm older and the kids have gone to college, I should think about becoming a hostage negotiator because some days it feels like I negotiate with short terrorists every day! I don't have the alpha attitude every morning, but mostly... you absolutely have to for your very survival.

Most people who know me understand that I really dislike confrontation. I'd rather disappear than deal with explosive, negative, volotile situations. I've always been (honestly) passive-aggressive with hostile people, usually by never letting them know how outrageous and immature I think they are. I cut out people that I perceive to be a threat. I'm not quick with words and refuse to enter into shouting matches. It's not that I want everybody to just love each other and get along, but I want a fair playing field, one without cutting words, power plays, manipulation, intimidation, etc... and then I had kids. I love my kids alot. And thankfully, God is giving me the backbone to push back and shape their hearts... even when there are demands and screaming and tantrums. I love them too much to let them be uncontrolled, and God loves me too much to not strengthen my backbone.

Funny how life plays out occassionally. I was working in recovery room the other day. We had a particular patient that was really making life hard for the staff. He was fully recovered, very demanding and rude. Downright mean. Fortunately, he wasn't my patient. Unfortunately for him, I was in an anti-terrorism mood. I was bending down beside the bed of my patient to measure some urine from the catheter when I hear BANG BANG BANG BANG. I looked up to see a 30-ish year old guy two feet from me with his cup in hand, banging it on his tray table. Worse yet, he was looking right at me. I studied his face. Was he nauseous? Perhaps confused? Non-verbal? And then I saw his eyes narrow, and he glared at me and BANGBANGBANGed the cup again. And my toddler-mom brain said, "Oh, no you don't! I DID NOT come all the way to work to deal with THIS!" I suddenly felt filled with power of a mom that's survived 5 long years of pecking, nagging, and demands, and I fully engaged this hostile man. I imagine that he, too, saw my eyes narrow as I leaned towards him. Without as much as a smile I said, "Do you need something?" BANGBANGBANG went the cup. "You need to use your words. I asked you a question. (more slowly and with a slight growl) Do you need something?" And slowly he dropped his gaze. "Water." I put my hand on the cup and decided to negotiate my final demand... "Water what?"

"Water, please."

My Hero

There are some verbal non-negotiable points that a marriage brings with it - young couples, deeply in love, begin to make promises for a lifetime before the day of marriage. "I will always let you read the morning paper in quiet." "I will never interrupt your phone calls." "I will have supper waiting for you when you get home from work." And then marriage happens, and kids happen, and things don't necessarily go as planned. But something that my husband does to consistently serve me is taking care of the driveway in the winter and the lawn in the summer. Shoveling may not seem like a big deal to some of you - but it is a gift to me. It's not because I can't - I spent 20 years helping my mom and sisters dig out our Michigan driveway. It's not because I won't, because there have been a few times that I pick up a shovel and find a measure of satisfaction with a task that shows immediate results. It is because I just don't want to. When I see snow I generally start reviewing all the things I have that will allow me to hole-up for as long as possible. Soy milk. Milk. Juice. Ramen. Pasta. Ground beef. Popcorn. Shoot, we can live for a week before we need anything! But Matt diligently serves us by clearing and clearing and shoveling and clearing for as long as necessary. Yesterday we received over 14" of snow from sun up until sun down. It was beautiful! (Now, this looks a little like Buffalo!) And Matt shoveled and shoveled. What a great looking driveway! Honey, thank you for working so hard to keep our home looking great in the summer and accessible in the winter.

The kids are well, except for a few runny noses and hacking coughs. This morning Levi has developed an ominous faint, tight squeak at the end of his cough, which may mean a fifth round of oral steroids on top of his twice a day inhaled steroids and Singulair. For a little guy, he's got bad lungs. We'll be headed to the pulmonologist next week to begin a long and beautiful relationship, I'm sure.

Tonight I'll be starting a working relationship with Centegra NIMC about 20 miles from my house. I still plan to work primarily at Loyola in the city (100 miles round trip), but a back-up hospital that's only a few towns over is a good idea.

Next week my mom is going to Liberia for about two weeks. This will be her first BIG trip ever. She's going with a medical missions group... we're so excited for her! My dad and sister, Stef, will be home, maintaining homeostasis, with Kat and I in the wings if necessary.


Here's to a great Thursday!

Breaking the Surface

Boy, when I disappear, I disappear! This week I'm beginning to feel like I'm coming up for air after the Christmas season. It was wild and crazy, wonderful and work-filled all at once. And every mom out there says, True, true. By my silence assume I'm busy and there's too much going on, sometimes things that I can't even blog about! But I'll give you a little run-down.

There were many Holiday parties. Many. And they were each wonderful. Some we attended, some we hosted, and some we assisted with. It was a great time with our new friends at the Chapel. In so many ways, God affirms our newest job transition. Many Sundays I have the strangest sense of de ja vu. I see this campus as my family, and rejoice in being able to love and care for them.

Matt preached many times. Three of our weekends from the last time I blogged until now were filled with preaching schedule, and he's up again the next two weekends. There were many services, with Christmas Eve being one of the most worshipful experiences I've ever had.

There were many decorations - I really got into doing the house up this year - thanks to Command strips! Garland and lights and ornaments. The kids and I made many projects and home-made treats (rock candy, ricechex "treats" to name a few).

There were many visits and visitors! We ran to West Michigan for a 24-hour tour the day after Christmas, and my folks, sisters and brother-in-law came for five days a day after we got home.

There were many gifts! The kids celebrated and were celebrated fully! I received the only thing I wanted this year - the movie White Christmas. I'm getting a bit nostalgic in my old age. Izak now thinks punch is a permanent part of the Christmas season. He's really understanding the meaning of the season, and is chocked full of Christmas information. Many folks asked us if we do the Santa thing. Yes, we do, for reasons that I'd discuss with you if I knew you. It was fun this year because Izak noted that there were many Santas . I said yes, but there's only one real Santa (someday to be revealed as St. Nick's story!) and the others are his helpers. He spent the holiday deliberating whether that one was the real one, or that one, no, not him, maybe that one... yeah, he's the real one! Well, maybe not... . The older kids have the Christmas story down pat, and enjoy being questioned in game-show form about the information. Although the Hebrew is a little tricky; Izak thinks the angel that announced Christ's birth was named Ariel... close, but no point.

There were many rounds of the movie Cars (Levi), Handel's Messiah (Izak), and M&M's (Liberty).

There were many sleepless nights and doctor's visits. Libby struggled with the croup for a few weeks. Then Levi was sick, sick, sick. Between ears draining and developing pneumonia, I feel like I spent 30 days doing around the clock nebulizers. He's started on Singulair and is much better. Looks like the boy got my lungs. We also discovered he's very, VERY allergic to dogs. Hmmm ... not sure how we're going to work around that. We always thought cats were the culprit. He's five times more allergic to dogs than cats. I'm so thankful that we donated Sailor (out New York Newfoundland) to my sister in law. God worked things out in advance for Levi to join our family.

There were many prayers. For strength, wisdom, mercy, grace, thankfulness, self-control. Prayers for our friend, Rick, in Buffalo, who's come back again with another clean bill of health! Prayers of intercession and sustenance . It's been a season where I've willingly thought, even in the hard times, God is with me. He hasn't left me here to fix this. He's with me. Emmanuel.

Friends, there are so many other things. His goodness and provision. His faithful call to pursue Him and throw off all that hinders. My hurts, the hurts of others, my own pride and ignorance. His undeniable love and power. May 2008 find you increasingly aware of the many, many, many ways that He appears to you, and how that reality will transform your life.

We three... um...

Well, I'm not exactly sure, but I believe the little one is a wise guy. I mean, wise man!

THAT day...

Last Friday... well... it should have been stricken from the calendar. Just a hard day - not really bad, just laborious. It felt like everything had to be difficult. Difficulty complicated by twist. But by one in the afternoon, scenarios began resolving without blood, sweat,or tears. But as a mom, you know that the anxiety becomes a little, um, pent up. About four in the afternoon, when (on a good day) I'm usually ready to quit parenting and flee to Canada with an assumed identity and four years of high school French in my back pocket, I decided to just have a roll on the floor sessions withe kids. (A hint of sarcasm in my voice at this point) Let it not be said of me that I don't play with my kids. No sir-ey, Bob. I'm a mom that PLAYS with her little ones, even on hard days. So we were having a great time tickling, imitating barn animals. At some point I laid on my back and closed my eyes. I opened them to find the two year old standing over me with a brick-size toy camera. I smile, getting ready for my pretend photo, when Levi raises the camera and slams it down on top of my unprotected forehead. He hit me so hard the camera bounced. I saw stars. I saw moons, black holes, and supernovas. I immediately shot up to a sitting fetal position with my hand clamped over my face and screamed. The two year old, who thought I was playing, picked up the camera and attempted to lob another shot my way. Without uncovering I shoved him to the ground and kicked the camera across the room - was this a modern-day stoning?!? Levi was immediately aware that our relationship, yea, his very life, was in jeopardy because I started to cry... and then just outright bawl into my hands. I don't think I've ever lost it in front of them like that - BUT IT HURT SO BAD!!! Levi kept trying to crawl on my lap, and when I could peel my fingers off my head, I grabbed him soundly by both shoulders and barked, "Say sorry to Mommy! Say sorry to Mommy!" Now, the apology that took an hour to coax from him in his crib just last week came forth quickly, awash with tears, "Sorry, Mommy!!!" With that I grabbed him and pinned him on my lap to prevent further bodily harm (to myself!), and turned my hysteria upon the four year old. "Is there blood on my forehead ?! Right here?! Is it bleeding?!" Z, trying to keep it together assures me there's no blood, but then dissolves to tears himself because I've "made (him) feel so, so bad." He buries his face in my back and weeps. The baby is still screaming on my lap. I bow my head and try to focus my gaze.

In front of me stands the three year old girl with her hands on her hips. Dead serious. There wasn't a hint of fear or distress. "Mom, do you need a kiss?" I'm sniffling, "Yeah...". She leans over and plants a super-power, healing kiss on my forehead which felt like it was going to split in two. "There," and she leans back. "Now, Mom. I'd like to dress up and be the princess, okay? You help me with the dress." "Okay," I sniff. The boys are sniffling and crying softly. But my Libby stayed large and in charge. A good candidate for nursing already, if you ask me. But the hospitals may take issue with the pink princess dress and magic slippers.

Approaching Christmas

(Riding home in van after church on Sunday)

Z: "Mom, have we ever been to Bufflahem?"

M: "Bufflahem? Do you mean the place where Jesus was born?"

Z: "Yeah. Have we been there?"

M: "No. It's very, very far away."

Z: "Is it on the earth?"

M: "Yes, but it's not in America. I believe Bethlehem is in Israel. It's very far."

Z: "Oh..."

(Several minutes of silence pass.)

Z: "Gabriel... Gabriel was an angel."

M: "Yes."

Z: "And he said to Mary (raising voice and lifting arms to the side), 'You are going to have a baby! And he is going to take very good care of you!'"

M: "I'll bet that the angel said to Mary, 'You will take really good care of him'."

Z: "Yeah..."

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But as I've retold the dialogue, I think Izak had it right. The Saviour. The one from whom all Love flows. The King. Mighty God. Emmanuel. Indeed, he takes very, very good care of us!

On the lighter side of love

What was my 13-year anniversary gift to Matt, you ask?

I let him sleep in while I took all three children (especially the two who had been up since 3:45 AM) to the pediatrician's office at 8 o'clock to get their ear infections diagnosed and treated.

He said it was the best gift ever!

Happy Anniversary, my love!

Today is my 13-year anniversary of marriage to a fantastic man. I remember wrestling during college with whether or not I even wanted to marry. I had settled on the single life when I became friends with Matt, another campus leader at IWU. As our friendship grew, so did my respect, admiration, and attraction! What a gift I've been given. Handsome. Wise. Kind. Funny. Godly. I am blessed among women.

I love you, Matthew. A day doesn't go by that I'm not aware of your sacrificial love, your hard work, your intentional decisions, and your protection. You're my hero.

New babies

Well, we've been so busy. Since I last blogged, the boys both turned 2 and 5. My mom (poor mom) and sister, Stef, brought the train out, but Mom ended up in the hospital to rule out a stroke (posterior bleed). The party did happen, and Mom was able to make the end of the celebration, which was a celebration in itself! A few weeks later, Matt's parent came out and took the kids trick or treating. One of the boys' gifts was a huge bag of costumes from Mrs. Clay... we put it to GREAT use (both on that day, and every day since)!


Izak's now using a digital wristwatch and a big boy bike - we may end up trying to get the training wheels off before snow. He's growing so quickly. Levi is fully into conversation and a little gear-head. He can't get enough of his cars. He has a special affinity for the little die cast "Cars" characters... truth told, I actually have quite an affinity for them as well. Our collection is almost complete! People were so kind that Libby genuinely believed that it was her birthday too, as she was flooded with gifts as well. She's also LOVING preschool. I'm sure of the genetic connection with my daughter as all day long she absent-mindedly sings and hums... and her favorite songs are "Jingle Bells" and "Frosty the Snowman"! My real friends know that I sing Christmas songs year-round. Why should she be any different? :) Such happy kids.

The other week I took my protestant kids to a local Catholic church to buy some of their honey. The church is located on a beautiful plot of land in the country, surrounded by hedges. It's cared for by the Handmaidens of the Precious Blood (quite the name!). We approached the tiny chapel that was formerly a house, looking for someone to unlock the little house that had the "Local Honey for Sale" sign in the window. Izak rang the door bell, but there was no answer. As we were pulling out, a nun came running from the back door in full habit, "I'm sorry! I was on the phone!". The bright white hat, burgundy robes with the necklace and the cord around the waist, all blowing in the fall breeze. My kids' eye widened, they'd never seen a nun before! "Sister, hello! We came for some honey!" We bounded out of the minivan as she loved all over the babies, "What beautiful children! Are they all yours?" Izak pulled me aside. "Why do you call her sister?" "That's her special name for the job that she does here. Everyone calls her 'sister.'" And then the kids began to chorus, "Sister, where's the honey?" "Sister, do you live here?" Sister, sister sister! We loaded back into the van and waved goodbye. As we drove around, Izak noticed all of the beautiful statues of Mary, Jesus, and other saints. There was a big, white statue of Jesus, arms spread wide with a big smile. Izak asked, "Mom, is that God?" "That's a statue of Jesus." Then, with fantastic five-year old enthusiasm he shouted, "Mom! We have GOT to get one of those!"

Beautiful little faces

The question

One of the privileges of being a SAHM is learning the language of my children. Recently I've found that I'm "hearing" much clearer questions from each of them, regarding their deep inner wonderings... they don't need to necessarily say the words, but they ask them in a million other ways.

Izak asks, "Do you hear me?" Coming from a little boy who hasn't had it easy as it pertains to communication and development, I believe he often wonders if he's coming across in the way he intends. This is evidenced by the string of talking, the non-stop questions, the follow-up questions, the rephrased questions, the questions just to clarify. Possibly one of the more hurtful things in his world is to hear, "I'm don't want to talk anymore," or when he's ignored. I was outside watching him approach some older neighborhood kids skateboarding the other day, I saw his lips move, but not one kid returned his greeting. I pushed down the killer fire that ignited, and slowly went over to him. "What are you doing, Buddy?" "Just watching. I said, 'Hi, my name is Izak', but they didn't say anything." He came home with me and we talked about how mean it is when people aren't polite, how important it is to acknowledge people. He just wanted to be heard. God, let me listen to my son.

Libby asks, "Do you feel me?" Ironically emotional when compared to her older brother, Lib sports her emotions on her sleeve. Her recent preschool report said, "Liberty is very expressive." I know, I've watched her stand and make faces at herself in a mirror for two years now. She has quite the range of "expression." I think it's easy for moms of girls to invalidate and ignore emotion... because there's so much of it. I'm not a highly emotional person outwardly, but it doesn't mean that I should eye-roll or constantly tell her how she should feel according to my adult standards. I notice a special spark in her eyes when she's been particularly demostrative about something, and I say, "Libby, do you feel surprised?" (even if I know it's acting) "(gasp) Yes!!!" she smiles. It's as if she's wanting to know someone "gets" what's she's feeling, and there's great peace in that for her. There's a place for her too. She knows she's understood.

Levi asks, "Do you see me?" The shortest member of the family, Levi tends to strive for eye contact. He's been a great one for locking eyes with someone across a crowded room, even as a baby, and bursting into smiles when they acknowledge they see his big brown eyes on them. I watch him wander around our front yard, and as he approaches the boundary he slowly turns and peeks back at me over his shoulder. Do you see me? Do you see what I'm about to do? He's quick to redirect and easy to parent once he knows he's been seen. Attention seeking? Sure, in a toddler sense. And he responds so well... if you look at him. But you can't bark orders at him and expect him to fall into line yet. He wants to be seen. There's a lot of activity in my home, one can easily feel overlooked, unless you make them look your way. God, may my littlest one find me looking at him long before he feels invisible. May he feel valued.

Some July images

Urks and misses

Driving home in the minivan.

"Mom, do you urk?"

"Do I urk?"

Yeah, Daddy urks. Can you?"

"How does he urk?"

"You know - the big blue car when he goes fast. Uuuurrrrrrrkkkkkk!"

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Potty trained child yells,"I have to go poopy!" And runs for the toilet. Toilet paper patrol follows and arrives to hear a lot of gassy noises but sees no concrete evidence. Child hops off toilet.

"Wait, wait. Do you need me to help wipe you?"

"Nope."

"No? Did you go poopy?"

"Nope. I missed."

Home again and again

I am officially going to stop apologizing for any long lapses in my blogging. I'm busy, which all of you understand, and this is a luxury for me. I'll stop right after I say this... sorry it's been so long.

We've been in a full court press here in Illinois. Kids. Church. Work. And last night at 10 p.m. we arrived home from a flying trip to Buffalo to see our soulmates. We were there "three sleeps," one of which was even our first sleep over (with four kids ages 3-6 in one bedroom!) with the Muslielaks. I spent a lot of time before the trip preparing for the trip... I've found that while I never underestimate the work that it'll take to accomplish large tasks I always underestimate the energy that I'll have going into it. I'm usually so much more tired that I hope to be. I hear that it passes - in about 10 years or so.

There are two couples in Buffalo who are, and remain our dearest friends. The Gobles and the Musielaks. The Gobles celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary while we were there, and we were able to attend (kid-free, thanks Rache!) a wonderful celebration for them in the rolling hills of Ellicotville. The Musielaks (Rick is our friend who is fighting cancer - see my husband's post ) and the Furrs pretty much spent every waking minute together. My body is exhausted, but my heart is full. Sunday morning we were able to go to church and catch up with a couple hundred people, all of whom offered love and encouragement... and pressure to come back!!! Thank you, everyone. My favorite comment was Elaine's, who said, "Glad things are going well for you out there. Don't unpack all the boxes, dear, I'm still praying you'll move back." This year I was able to receive the love and strength from our New York family without the questions of whether or not we were right to leave in the first place. It's a strange balance to find, love and appreciation amidst the sadness of being apart from New York - a balance that doesn't need to invalidate our current life in Illinois but can enhance it. I received so much affirmation in the deep places of my heart that have questioned "Am I a good friend?" "Do I love others well?" The Spirit whispered many, many times, "Yes." Thank you, Lord, for healing those places and giving me peace.

A shout out to my lukring Buffalo family. I love you so much.

Happy Birthday, America!

Happy birthday, America. The older I get, the better you look to me. I'm so thankful to live here and enjoy your goodness. No, you're not perfect, but I chose you over any other nation. I'm so thankful for our men and women in uniform who serve here and abroad. I know we're still not impenetrable, but I rest easy at night knowing I'm here and not somewhere else in the world. I still cry when I hear the 1812 Overture. I cross my heart when I sing the national anthem. I am so grateful for you and the good things God is doing through you. Happy, happy birthday, old friend.

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We've been running and trying to find quiet moments to pause and take in all that life has been handing us lately. There are many things that aren't mine to share, but just know that we're processing a lot. This is a shout out to the friends and family who've spent time listening and encouraging. Thank you for letting us put down our packs and rest for awhile. I rejoice in the opportunity to be stretched, and while I don't perceive the recent events to be "testing," it has served to clarify my beliefs in God and His goodness.... despite circumstance.

One thing I can share is that our little Levi went for tubes last Friday morning. He's had a nagging ear infection since March, and had four rounds of antibiotics. The ear doctor still came out of surgery and said his ears were badly infected. They drained nasty stuff for a day, but he did great, and seems to improve talking-wise every day! He's the fastest talker of the bunch, and remains a delight! Thank God for relief from pus-filled ears!

Through a series of events I am cutting back my work hours to approximately one day a week. We Bennetts are workers, evidenced by generations of hard (read "obessive") laborers... who, frankly, don't always know when to quit. So before I go any longer feeling like I see my husband less, and before I start wondering if the kids are feeling stressed with the increased pace, I've decided to dial it down and stay home another day.

This should be an intersting night. Rowdy, rowdy subdivision! There's music and explosives and plenty of alcohol. Trauma census should be up tomorrow! I've always loved the Fourth... maybe once the kids are a little older that joy will return. For now, I agonize over every little pop. When John Adams proclaimed that today should be commemorated loudly with much pomp and celebration, I'm almost certain that Mrs. Adams didn't sign off of it. If she had any kids under the age of ten she would've smacked him and demanded a re-write. Argh.

I've loved this day with Matt and the kids. He's such an amazing daddy and husband. He works as hard at home as he does at work. And the kids are testament to that. He's a rock star!

(POP! FIZZ! BANGBANGBANGBANG!) Well, here's to along night in suburbia.

Squirt

Now, anyone with little ones has an appreciation for how you sometimes feel totally exposed, totally embarrassed by your inability to control, or at least appear in control of the children to whom you gave birth. Yesterday was another "time" to add to my growing pile. But I'm learning to get past the discomfort of my own embarrassment because I'm recognizing the trend of others who are genuinely kind and giving to this mother of F5.

It was in the 90's here in Chicagoland, so I decided to take the kids to a local beach that I'd heard about. Three babies, 4.5, 3, and 1.5 years old. One mom, me. So we landed on this lovely little park with a boom. Similar to buckshot. Libby's yelling, "Swim, swim swim!" and bolting for the water, Izak's darting back and forth from me to his sister, flip-flops abandoned along the sidewalk. I'm pulling Levi out of his seat, surveying the park. If there was one person there, there were 150. I'm trying to navigate the kids toward the safe swimming area (with a LIFEGUARD, thank you , Jesus) when Libby begins making pit-stops at each picnicing site. Stopping, looking at the blankets covered with food and toys, chattering to the families. I'm half apologetic, half embarrassed. Eventually I get the kids into the water... oh, what a time! They splashed and ran on the beach, bobbed around, and made new friends. Many of the families were Latino, taking an afternoon to retreat from their busy days as well. Many of the kids spoke English, but many of the moms in the water did not. When Levi would kidnap a little girl's shovel I would return it, and we would smile at each other as if to say, "Here you go, thanks for not making a big deal out of it. " "You're welcome, I know what it's like. Have you seen my gang? I get it."

After an hour we began moving towards the minivan to return home. That's when the wheels fell off. Levi begins to scream like I'm killing him. Izak is running around the perimeter of the beach in an attempt to herd his sister, who has now discovered a whole different dimension of the beach - the PLAYGROUND. Women are watching me pass, cooing at Levi who's reaching a dog-like pitch in protest. It's buckshot all over again, but at least we're moving towards the van. And then Libby bolts. Something caught her eye at a picnic site that she'd visited on her way to the beach. I'm yelling for her to return to me, but she waltzes over and begins to pick up juice box after juice box, checking for refreshment. And as I'm still 100 feet away, yelling, (being ignored) I see the family - who has probably worked very, very hard for their money and for this picnic time - spot the poacher. They were not smiling. And I'm now starting to run. Who is this unparented child? As I get close enough to grab her she hustles off to the slides. I turn to apologize to the family, but they're still talking among themselves, not looking at me. I drag past them with the screamin' mimi on my hip, my arms full of towels and three pairs of shoes, yelling orders that (obviously) no one is listening to.

And then he was there. A tall pre-teen from the picnic site that Libby had just crashed. He stood in front of me with a cold can of Squirt. "Here, you can have this." "Oh no, no. I'm sorry she did that. I'm fine, thank you." "No really, please take it." And suddenly I'm humbled. Humbled by the F5. Humbled by the inability to do it all. Humbled by my obvious need... of help or a cold drink, or encouragement, or something. I looked over to the family who was watching me, and smiled. "Gracias." They smiled back with a look that didn't need any interpretation. You're welcome, little mother. Have a little refreshment for you or your children. But you're okay. It's going to be fine.