An Oldie but a Goodie

Sometimes there is a reason that classic toys are just that...

Classic.

Last night I did some rearranging and pulled some old baby toys back into rotation for Little Bug. The other kids haven't seen them in quite a while, so whenever I rotate toys it's like we just got home from the toy store. ;o)

Girly Pie found the old Fisher Price donut ring stacker this morning and was smitten with it at first glance.

Something about that little toy has drawn in each and every one of my children at all different ages. The babies love to eat the rings. The toddlers love to wear the rings. The preschoolers tend to use the post as a sword and redistribute the rings all around the house so I spend the next several months trying to collect all five of them so I can put the toy away again (actually so do the school age kids, but I digress...). When they first hit the point of trying to stack them, the babies and toddlers always get them out of order and though some may patiently work at getting it right at times, most just proudly display the three rings they managed to fit on there and move on to something else. Then they grow a bit, and the stacker comes back into rotation (because inevitably another baby has come around...) and suddenly like magic they are able to stack all five rings in order without even breaking a sweat. It's amazing. It's inspiring. It's just plain fun.

And then of course once they've mastered it they lose all interest - and so it becomes a sword once again - and back it goes into the closet until - you guessed it - the next baby is ready to chew on the rings again.

So today when Girly Pie sat down on the kitchen floor I was not surprised to see then new knowledge of size comparison dawn on her as she started to put the rings onto the post. It only took her a few minutes to master, and she, just like her brothers in years past, was thrilled with herself.

I give it less than a week before she moves on - but none the less it was a great moment - and the pictures turned out beautifully, to boot. ;o)

Silly Girl

Sunday Dress - Check.

Hard hat - Check.

Tool Belt - Check.

Construction tools - Check.

One super cute girl - Double Check.

Caught in the act...

I found this picture from a couple of months ago and had to post it.

I had walked out of the computer room after helping the boys with some school stuff only to find Girly Pie sitting in the family room surrounded by this delictable snack - which she had stolen off of the counter from breakfast leftovers. Apparently she was hungry and thought I could not be bothered to help her with a snack, so she decided to help herself. She was completely happy, and seemed to have no idea at all that this might be considered less than OK. Of course I snapped the picture before I told her not to do that anymore. ;o) I forget her exact words but she said something along the lines of, "I hungry. I eatin' nack." Silly girl.

A few pics of the little guys - and a short update

Girly Pie loving on her baby brother!

This Little Bug has the cutest wide mouthed smile!



Almost looks like he's posing here... but it was just a random flap of that hand as he works towards mastering coordination of his arms. For the first time though this evening he reached up with both of his arms and caressed my cheeks. I just love this little guy!

Things are going well around here. I've been terrible at keeping up on my blog - but I don't figure too many people read it anyway. So I don't feel too bad about putting other things higher on the priority list. ;o) I'm excited to plan out school for next year and am poring over my homeschool catalogs every chance I get. Bug is 3 1/2 months old now and so cute and smiley. He's the first of my five babies that seemed to naturally know how to put himself to sleep. I say this in all sincerity - Praise the Lord! I had no idea how lovely it could be to have a baby who actually LIKES to sleep - and not only on his momma! He falls asleep in his bed - without any help from me at all! And if he does stir, all he needs is a quick readjustment of the binky and he's good to go. All my little ones were still napping on me at this age which is lovely for me (I love baby snuggles), but disruptive to the baby as I go about my day and makes it harder to do other hands-on things with the rest of the kids. So I'll take these three and four hour naps in his own bed with a big smile and a very thankful heart. God is indeed good! ;o) Oh - and he (mostly)only wakes once at night. A blessing I am also very grateful to receive!

Girly Pie is finally cluing in on potty training, and at two weeks past her second birthday (not sure if I'll get around to posting about her big day but it was a great birthday!) she is down to only an accident every day or two. Woohoo!

Goose is a crack up and says the funniest things. Can't think of any off the top of my head. But then my brain has been pretty slippery these past months. Oh well. ;o) Take my word for it though - he's hilarious!

Finny is doing really well and has really blossomed over the past few months. He adores Bug and is just a delightful 6 year old in general.

Punky is just a delight as well. I am amazed at how enjoyable his company is. Who knew 8 year olds could be such lovely companions?

Gotta run. Bug needs a readjustment, apparently. ;o)

When 2 year olds dress themselves...

Girly Pie has quite the opinion when it comes to what she wears these days. Usually I can at least go with one of her choices and add a matching component... if she goes for stripy pants, I grab a solid shirt. She wants a printed shirt? I pull out jeans. No problem. But on this particular day, she had the whole outfit planned from head to toe. And really, it wasn't a battle I felt was worth the fight. It's not like I keep anything around that isn't appropriate for her to wear, so I'm not going to fight her on patterns and colors.

So. Crazy 70's print dress and striped tights. Go for it. And the cowboy hat from the dress up chest... Why not?

Just let me snap a picture before you pee in your outfit and the moment is lost. ;o)

They really are different...

Today we washed our cars for the first time in months. Lots of months. I can't even remember how many months - though I suspect they were washed at least once last summer... But today it was warm enough out and dry enough to constitute a family afternoon in the driveway with a bucket of soapy water, a hose, and a whole lot of helping hands.

I can't remember how old Girly Pie was last time we would have had a car washing day, but I do recall her being small enough to be completely uninterested in the affair.

I was a little reluctant to do it today with her there. Though it was far warmer than usual for a January day (58 degrees and sunshine felt so very nice today!) it was still windy, and once the sun got over the hill it cooled down quickly. And I assumed she'd do what any normal 20 month old would do, or at least what all my previous toddlers did: basically bathe in the bucket of bubbly, dirty water and end up wetter and dirtier than the car itself, not to mention cold and miserable by the time all was done. After all, that's what toddlers do, right?

Apparently, it's just what toddler boys (or at least my toddler boys) do. Girly Pie managed to keep herself almost completely dry and clean. One pant leg got a little wet - but only because it was long enough to drag on the ground and soak up water that way. Otherwise, she was perfectly tidy about the entire affair. She happily swished the handled scrubber around in the bucket a bit, helped hose the car off a few times, all the while keeping her hands on the tools and out of the bubbles. I was shocked. She didn't even seem interested in the water itself, but rather in the actual job of helping us wash the car.

A whole new experience around here. ;o)

So I am sure there are plenty of messy girls out there, and plenty of neat and tidy boys in the world. I by no means am trying to say that the stereotype is the norm. But around here - apparently it is just the boys who prefer to immerse themselves in dirty car water and spray themselves in the face with the hose. And apparently I can rest at ease when the messy jobs pop up around here - Miss Girly Pie seems to be quite happy to leave the messy stuff for the rest of us. ;o)

Words to live by

Yes, I have had quite a few sunny moments lately - like the overall glow of joy I carried with me all through yesterday. But I must admit that I have had quite a few little worries niggling around in my brain over the past months - really for much of this pregnancy. I've had some rough moments, but most of it really has been background noise. But as background as it's been, that worry has still been there.

And last night, I finally felt it all be washed away, and I am so thankful and so humbled!

I know that with all of my pregnancies I have had those typical fears that something, anything, might go wrong. Surely THIS TIME labor will go wrong. I can't POSSIBLY have FIVE healthy babies and FIVE safe, peaceful deliveries. Something is bound to happen. I JUST DON'T DESERVE SO MUCH GOODNESS. Every time. All five pregnancies, all five babies. Last night I was feeling those fears creep in again, and I actually asked my husband to tell me his recollection - had I done this before at the end of my other pregnancies?

He basically laughed and said, "Yep. All four of them. But not at the end. It's been the whole time. With all of them."

So I was comforted to know that it's not some deep sense of foreboding or spiritual sign that something is bound to actually go wrong. It's just my standard issue pregnancy paranoia. And I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I suspect most other women have the same fears at some point in their pregnancies as well - some worse than others of course, and some more well founded, but the same fears nonetheless.

But just knowing I had felt this way before wasn't the kind of comfort I needed last night, so I pulled out my Bible and the little journal I keep for Girly Pie (I keep one for each of my kids, but what I wanted to find was in hers specifically) and started searching.

What I was looking for were two scripture references that I remembered praying over and holding close to my heart at the end of my pregnancy with her, and through her entire peaceful and wonderful labor. I had forgotten over the past almost two years what those scriptures were, so I looked in her journal to find the references, and then I read them in the Bible. And here they are (emphasis mine):


Isaiah 14:24

Yahweh Almighty has sworn,
"Surely, as I have planned, so it will be,
and as I have purposed, so it will stand.

and



Phillipians 4: 4-7

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.




As I read those passages last night the memories came flooding back. I remembered wondering if I would ever have a daughter. After three sons, I was convinced this surprise fourth baby would be another beautiful son - and I was thrilled at the prospect of getting to raise four young men. But deep, deep down, I wondered if there was some reason that God knew I would not, could not or should not be the mother of a daughter. So the Isaiah passage really comoforted me. God has a plan and a purpose in EVERYthing He does. He knows each soul to come to this earth. He creates families and just as He plans them to be, for HIS divine purposes, that is how they will be - no matter what I think I want or need. God knows the right formula for our family. So the comfort was in knowing that this baby (Girly Pie I mean - back then when I was still pregnant with her) was exactly who he (or she) was supposed to be, and I would hold that baby in my arms and see the perfection there in God's creation - both of that new little life and of our family's makeup.



So last night those same words were comforting in very similar ways, but also in new and different ways as well. The fears of labor trouble or health problems with the baby just keep floating there - but it felt so good to know, to KNOW that God has it all planned and purposed. My fears do no good for anybody. God is good, I know that. How can it be so easy to forget in the day to day that He really and truly has it all under control?



The second verse, the one from Phillipians, was one that I also prayed over during my pregnancy with Girly Pie, but also through my labor with her in particular. And I felt such peace in reciting it. Do not be anxious about ANYTHING. So last night - I felt my anxieties literally melt away. I want that peace - the one that surpasses all understanding. I love when I feel it - and it makes me sad to think that my own lack of diligence and commitment to reading scripture daily is what distracts me from knowing that truth fully, day in and day out. It is so comforting and refreshing to actually pick up God's Word and see those things. And last night, He came through yet again right when I needed Him - and reminded me just how little I have to fear, and just how Big He is - and just how much He loves me and how much power He has to comfort and protect me.



So as you can imagine, after reading those I was already feeling 100% better - but then I went on to read the rest of Girly Pie's birth account (that was the entry where I had written down the verses - and who can resist re-reading your own birth account, especially weeks before getting to do it again!). And I was overcome again by God's presence and His gifts and blessings.



I never quite forgot all the beauty and awe of the night of my daughter's birth... but it certainly floats to the background in the busy-ness of day-to-day life. Labor was fast, contractions were real but not overwhelming, pushing took longer than I'd expected but still was not difficult - and then after just two hours and 42 minutes of laboring, I sat there in the dim light of my bedroom, surrounded by my husband and Mary Grace and a good friend E. and my midwives - and I looked down at the miracle of my daughter - the little girl I was too afraid to even hope for - perfect, beautiful and whole. The peace through the whole labor was just so present for me, more than I can recall with any of my other births. That night is just amazing to me as I looked back on it, written in my own words.



But the part that really got me - the part I never forget but often neglect to remember (there is a difference, you know) - was what happened after her birth. I delivered her placenta - but things didn't go as they always had. I am not going to go into deep medical detail, but in short, once her placenta was delivered, my midwife made it very clear that she was amazed that my whole, healthy daughter had come full term into the world with that as her only sustinence for nine months while in my womb. It was not only smaller and thinner than a healthy one should be, but it was divided almost in half. The chord was also thinner than it should have been and was attached to the smaller of the two lobes - so all that sustained her physically through my entire pregnancy had funneled across a small channel from the larger side to the 1/3 sized side and through an umbilical chord near half the diameter of a normal one.



That was not a normal, healthy placenta, said my midwife. A healthy, full term, good sized baby should NOT have come from that. And yet there she was, my normal, healthy daughter. A miracle from the start, proven even moreso by the evidence presented at her birth. According to the world's medical standards, she should not have been born. Girly Pie should never have even been conceived. We were not trying for a fourth. Certainly by the world's standards, we were already a "big" family. And we should be in control of our own reproductive systems, right? So without her being our plan, she shouldn't even have started. Girly Pie should have died early on in pregnancy - when her cells were dividing and trying to become twins (as my midwife guessed was what had happened to divide the placenta like that) from the sheer stress that puts on a developing fetus. But after surviving the cell division that did (most likely) take her twin sister, she should have died from the lack of nutrition that one would expect from an unhealthy placenta. From all I can see, Girly Pie should not be here.



And yet here she is. And she is perfect and whole and wonderful and such a gift and blessing to our whole family - to everyone who knows her. She is amazing and I feel so blessed to have her in our family.



And all that, all those odds, were just because God was there - His hand held her through it all. He had a plan and a purpose. And I hadn't a clue. I had no idea how precarious things could have been the whole time. Of course I had my pregnant paranoia that something could go wrong - but I was blissfully ignorant that so much should have gone wrong.



So reading that last night again was so humbling and awe inspiring. And honestly, I felt so ashamed for doubting and worrying. I felt I had been downright rude to look at the Gift Giver and basically tell Him that I didn't trust Him to again come through and pull off such a miracle.



And since reading that last night, I have felt that peace that surpasses all understanding. And I am not anxious, and I love that I get to be a part of God's big plan and purpose in any way that He wants me to be. Yes I know bad things do happen in pregnancy, in birth. In life every day bad things happen. Every time I drive down the highway to the next town there is an excellent chance someone could cross the yellow line and it could all be over for me here in the life I live now. And there is no promise that says that God will protect us from hardships.

But that is no reason to dwell on the posibilities of hardship.


So as of today, no more worrying about this little Jelly Bean. God has just as much purpose in his or her being here as He has with the other four children He has brought so safely into the world through me. I'm not having this child because I "deserve" to get another one. It's just God's plan. He wanted to bless us again, and so He did. Who am I to question the wisdom behind that decision? And why should I worry that the gift somehow will bring with it hardships? Nope. No longer. I cannot honestly look at all that God has poured into my life and walk away thinking He is just waiting to knock me off my happy little rocker. Sure, it could happen. But I can look at every single hardship I've endured in my life, and I can see that the blessings that came from them each time far outweighed the hardship itself. But even still, I do not see hardship here. I do not feel fear. I see only blessings and I feel only peace and faith. I trust His power and His wisdom. I love that he chose to bless us not only with another new life, but with a whole family - husband, wife, sons, daughter(s). What a gift that is in and of itself.



So that's where I am today. Just full to overflowing with yesterday's same joy and giddiness, but also glowing with the knowledge of God's love for me and His power to make all things right. This baby will come just fine - no complications. I'm sure of it. And he or she will be the perfect addition to our family. Because God put him or her here and so that means it's perfect.



And I feel so GOOD to be free of that weight of fear and worry! Faith over fear. I need to work at that every day. Always, always, ALWAYS follow faith rather than fear.

Not just baby talk...

Two new words were uttered by my sweet Girly Pie today. For some reason, today seem to be the day that she officially decided to move past single syllable (up, milk, no) or repeating sound (mama, buh-buh (brother), nigh-nigh) words and open up to the wide world of multi-syllabic speech.

So in addition to rambling all day long in a multitude of completely unintelligible, yet stunningly adorable strings, Girly Pie did say two very distinct words which I found quite impressive for a girl of 18 months.

First, while reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar to her during some potty time sitting, she repeated enough times for me to be sure it was a word and not a ramble: "bahlluh-billah." Get it? Caterpillar! She's a genius, I know.

And as if that wasn't impressive enough, she later brought me a jar from the pantry (one of her favorite past times in the kitchen) and proudly, and repeatedly, proclaimed, "billah-budduh." Surely you don't need a translation for such a straight forward word. But just in case... it was a jar of peanut butter.

So yes I am laughing at myself in one way, because clearly this is just a proud mommy-moment and no one else in the entire world would have a clue that those were words and not just baby babble.

But those are four syllable words, people! Two of them, in ONE DAY! I was very impressed, and quite proud. She has said them both multiple times today and when you point to the caterpillar or the peanut butter and ask her what they are she will repeat the same rhythm and sounds. And to the trained ear, they are clearly the intended words.

She really is at such a darling age. And today, in addition to her two amazing new words, she really has been babbling up a storm more than I have ever seen her do. It's just the cutest thing ever!

Just because she's so dang cute...

Girly Pie at just shy of 16 months old.

She backed her way into this little "cave" of pampas grass in our front yard

Daddy was there to snap a few shots of her as she smiled at him from her little hideaway

This girl is just so stinking cute. Seriously.

What are little girls made of?

Sugar and spice and everything nice.

... Oh, and ER visits, too.

So I got to spend my first day in an ER today - and it was not with one of my three sons. It was with my little Girly Pie. I've heard many a rumor that girls are docile, calm and still. But not my sweet Girly Pie. She is sweet for sure, and definitely has her daintier qualities. But she is not anywhere near still. She's been a climber since before she could walk, and has given me more than my fair share of scares over the past months of her increasing mobility.

But this morning when she fell and bumped her lip on a small child's bench we keep at our little kid's table, she hardly cried at all, and I never would have thought twice about such a simple stumble.

Except for the fact that there was blood everywhere and her lip had a nasty looking flap of skin hanging off of it.

Looking at it I suspected immediately that it would need something - stitches, skin glue, something like that. I called Mary Grace to confirm my suspicions (I didn't want to be too paranoid, after all lip wounds can look much worse than they really are) and then set to work trying to figure out just what to do.

The really cool thing was that God's hand was all over the day. For a start, my Hubby has Mondays off from field work and he works at home doing phone and office stuff, so I had the flexibility to just go with Girly Pie and not have to worry about who could watch my three boys, or about taking them along and dividing up the attention that I was sure a sad little girl would need fully. And from there, the little twists and turns of the day just led more and more directly to exactly where God knew we needed to go.

Our new insurance is apparently not accepted by our current doctor's office - a fact we just found out this morning when I called to find out if they could squeeze her in for a look. I have never much liked the whole office, and really the only reason we have remained is that it is only 25 minutes away and all the other docs are 40 minutes or more. But I always second guess their thoughts and we never have really been on the same wavelength. So I called my good friend E. who uses the same insurance and has always said wonderful things about their pediatrician. She quickly gave me the number, and off I drove with Girly Pie, waiting on hold on my cell as I headed that direction and going on faith that they would make room for her ASAP. Sure enough, even though the wonderful doc didn't have any openings until 5pm, they made room for Girly Pie right as we arrived at 10am. The new doc was WONDERFUL. I know that I would not have appreciated my old doc's advice as much as Dr. Wonderful's, and he was so sweet with Girly Pie, and so thorough with his exam. He was gentle with her and explained to me the severity of the injury.

Now I will pause in the story here to point out that Girly was not crying during all this time. The fall was minor, the bleeding had stopped, and aside from missing her morning nap, she was really not fazed at all by the whole ordeal of the actual injury. (another small miracle for the day!) So the doc told me all I needed to know, and said that since the cut was on the line between her actual lip and the skin below, and because it was so close to the crack where upper and lower lips meet, it was just a really hard place to stitch up. He saw she did indeed need stitches, but he knew his office was not equipped to do such a delicate job on such a small, and uncooperative, patient.

So we were sent to the Children's Hospital in Seattle, over an hour from our home. He said we could go to others nearer, but that Children’s would be the best equipped to do such a delicate procedure on one so young.

So off we went. Again, this doc's demeanor and his kindness and gentleness with both my girl and this worried momma were so comforting, and I really did trust his opinion. I really see God's hand in the insurance thing sending us away from our other office to this one.

So eventually (after so very much waiting and talking and looking and waiting…) Girly Pie was given a bit of a loopy drug, the name of which eludes me at the moment, to lessen her reaction to being messed with and to make her forget the whole ordeal when it was over. She was definitely happier after the drug - she had been horrified up to that point by anyone even looking at her or taking her pulse, let alone sticking needles in her face! But even with the happy juice, she fought like crazy when they tried to wrap her up in the blanket to do the procedure. She was numb and a little sedated, but still fully conscious - and fully ticked off to be so rudely messed with.

Poor thing.

So as if that wasn't bad enough, after I was finally able to hold her again and calm her down, while she was sucking on a popsicle BOTH of her stitches popped out.

So they had to do it AGAIN.

That is the point at which, as her Mommy, it really got hard for me. I had already told her we were all done, she was in my arms and ready to go. But that wound just opened right back up, and aside from just not wanting her to have a big scar on her face for the rest of her life, I just could not imagine how the healing process would go with such a big, floppy wound.

So I agreed to try it one more time, stating that if these new stitches failed that we were done and she was just meant to have a scar.

So they did it again. They used a heavier gauge suture, and did three stitches instead of two. And she fought even harder.

The hardest part for me though was not so much the fighting and crying. That was actually a good thing. I was glad to see her fighting and not just accepting such abuse. But when she plaintively called out "Mama! MAAAMAAA!" through that second procedure I just about lost it.

I just could not imagine how terrified she was in that moment, her head held down by strangers, bright lights in her face, her lip numb and her body reacting to a strange drug in her system that made her feel out of control. And when she called for the one person she trusts most in the world to help her - I couldn't. I couldn't help her, and I couldn’t stop the fear.

I just talked to her all through it and stroked and held what parts of her little body I could without disturbing the doctors, and I prayed like crazy. I prayed that God would give her peace and not let this be a scarring event in her life - emotionally, I mean. I could care less about the physical scar compared to that. And I prayed that she really would just forget the whole thing, and that it wouldn't be something that would really affect her as she grows.

So finally, long past when I ached to hold her, they finished the last stitch and I got to pick up my frightened, sweaty, exhausted little girl. And she really did calm down quickly. She did not like any of the hospital folks after that, though I can hardly blame her. But she was happy to be in my arms, and we went home shortly thereafter.

Girly Pie was asleep before we even got out of the parking lot, and slept like a rock for the whole hour + ride home. The poor girl had missed her usual naps and hadn't eaten since her very meager breakfast at 7:30 this morning. We left the ER at 3 in the afternoon.

But when she woke up, she was happy and snuggly and ready to get up and get to playing at home. She still wants to grab at her lip, which we of course are not supposed to let her do, but she is eating fine and as far as I can tell is not feeling any pain from the whole incident.

And though I can't tell for sure, I feel like my prayers really were answered, and Girly Pie seems to have forgotten the trauma of the ER today already. She has not been overly clingy or fearful, and she really has been her same old, adventurous self all evening. She has already given us several scares from climbing and trying to fall. I'm not super thrilled about the scares, but it's still a good sign that she's feeling like herself.

Sigh.

So that was my day. I had big plans for a mellow day at home, a bit of school and tidying up, maybe a trip to a park after her nap. But God had other plans for our day.

And really, aside from the pain of watching her through that second procedure as she called for me - and thinking about just how terrified and awful she was feeling in that moment - through the whole day I was so aware of God's gifts for the day. I never had those thoughts of "If only she hadn't fallen!" I was so focused on being thankful that God had everything under control. The day was crazy, there were such hard moments, and nothing went as smoothly as it could have. But the trouble with the doc's office ended up being a blessing. And the doc not being able to do the stitching was a blessing too. Can you imagine if they had tried in the office and failed? It would have been even more traumatic there, and then we would have had to go to the hospital in the end anyway, since the stitches clearly needed to be done in such a special way. And what if we had gone to our old doc and they had tried to do a less-than-the-best fix for her? I was just so thankful that God paved the whole day to get my girl, His girl, where she needed to go for the best care.

So today really was such a good reminder to me that stuff happens in life. There are no promises that we'll be protected from hardships. But God does make a way to get you through those hard times, and he makes sure you are carried safely to the other side.

Romans 8:28
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him... (emphasis mine)

So today was a much needed perspective check, and I feel firmly kicked out of my little cave of worry over the things to come. I've been stuck here in neutral for a few weeks, wondering how to do all that I have to do, and feeling overwhelmed by all I feel I must do. But in all that, I lost sight of God's power to carry me through any hard times to come, and I lost focus on the gifts and blessings he has blessed me with along the way.

As our pastor recently said powerfully in a message about the young David in the Bible before he was king - I was like the other Israelites, focusing on the Giant - unlike David, who put his focus on the Giant Killer - God.

So today I am happily, joyfully, thankfully back where I belong. My eyes are on my Giant Killer. The giants of my life - the duties, the fears, the sensory disorders, the responsibilities, the worries of failing those I love the most – will no longer receive my utmost attention. God, the defender of us all, the slayer of all of life's Giants, is where my eyes are pointed once again.

And I never would have thought He would remind me of that simple truth by walking me through a day of trauma and pain in my baby girl's life. But He does indeed work in mysterious ways. And my baby is safe and happy and sleeping soundly in her bed.

I have nothing in the whole world to complain about. I have only thanks to give this night.

I wish I brought my camera!

We had so much fun today!

I took my four kiddos, plus Mary Grace's three oldest and we headed out to a berry farm about 45 minutes from home to pick raspberries.

The kids were so great at picking and happily stayed nearby on our same "lane" so I could keep an eye on all seven kids at once. They especially loved when I would send them as "scouts" down to different lanes of berries to report which was the most promising lane to head down next. MG's three picked for their family and my crew and I picked for ourselves, and both families ended up with +/- 9 pounds of fresh raspberries. I can't believe how effective those little eyes and hands are at finding and picking berries. Even Finny was really, really great!

Goose was less effective, and most definitely ate more than he collected. But he was so cute as he'd come running down the lane to me hollering, "I got one! I got a beewy! Hewe, Mommy." As he dropped one proudly into my collecting box. I'm sure he collected a total of 20 berries throughout the entire afternoon. But he had a great time, and was very proud of each of those 20 berries.

And Girly Pie happily walked up and down the dusty, dirty lane following the procession of poking, picking, hollering, laughing and chatting children. Every once in a while she would find a promising branch of berries and squat down in that cute toddler squat to indulge herself. I loved watching her dirt and berry stained face as she would smile and nod, mouth full of berries, and say, "Mmmmm."

By the time we were finally loading up in the car, every single pair of feet was completely covered in fine dirt, and every pair of hands was coated a sticky brown, highlighted of course with berry juice. Goose and Girly Pie had completely brown and red faces. Girly Pie even had some chunks of berry in her hair.

It was great.

So home we drove, with seven happy little people all buckled in and chatting away the 45 minute ride home. Girly Pie and Goose fell asleep quickly and slept through more laughing and jostling than one can imagine. The sleep of exhausted, happy babies with berry-filled bellies.

14 filthy hands. 14 socks encrusted with dirt and most likely beyond saving. 7 smiling brown faces. 18 pounds of raspberries. 1 filthy car. An uncountable number of smiles.

And one happy momma and friend.

It was well worth the $36 for the berries. Today was a day I will not soon forget. I just love days like this.

And I can't BELIEVE I didn't bring my camera. I guess I'll just have to keep those mental snapshots and hope they last forever. Somehow, I think they will.

"What," you might ask, "is it like to have a baby girl in a family with three big brothers?"

Well, it's a little bit like this:

Notice the pink shortalls? And the pigtails? Notice the very pink baby doll in the toy baby carrier on her back? Ahh. But did you also notice the golf club swinging from her right hand? And the Samurai sword she's brandishing in her left?

Yes. That's what it is like having a baby girl with three older brothers.

A little bit of everything. And so stinking cute and funny I can hardly stand it.

Benny's Baby Carrying 101

I'm so excited! I've been hinting to my Man (OK, so really I've been downright pestering him) that I really want an Ergo baby carrier.

Mind you, Girly Pie is our FOURTH child and we have made it through three babies with no Ergo. But times are a-changing, ladies. Sure I could make due with the ancient Gerry backpack that was handed down to us from a family I had nannied for. Sure I could just carry her. But darnit, after four pregnancies, 7+ years of carrying my own children constantly, plus a previous 10-12 years of continually babysitting or nannying for other people's kids and carrying them around... my hips and back are just plain shot.

So when I first mentioned to my Man that I was considering buying a new baby carrier he gave me that look. You know the one. The look that says, "NOW what do you want to buy for her?" It's a facetious look, and he's not at all nasty when I want to get something. But it was clear that he thought our collection of baby-carrying items to be fully stocked, and that just one more was clearly wasteful. After all, we're not currently planning to have more children, he reasoned. So why get this for just one baby?

So I got to thinking. And do you know what? It occurred to me that in our seven years of parenting, we have never, NOT ONCE, paid for one single baby carrier. NEVER.

We were gifted a brand new Baby Bjorn for my first baby shower when I was pregnant with Punky. At the time, as far as I knew, Baby Bjorn was the cream of the crop for baby carrying. And I loved mine. Until he hit 12 pounds. I carried babies in that thing constantly. I cooked, cleaned, nursed, walked, played... you name it, all while wearing babies in my Bjorn. But as they hit that 12 pound mark, my shoulders and back gave out on me. So as soon as they were strong enough, I bumped my babies to the back pack carrier.

The back pack was a handed down item from a lovely family for which I nannied. I received two actually, from different families. Both back packs were less than supportive, and I usually ended up with a headache within 15 minutes of putting one on.

I also got a sling from one of the families, but that kind of sling at least just did not fit my narrow frame so I never could wear a baby in it.

Then when Girly Pie was a few months old a friend of mine, Sara, generously gave me a homemade version of the Moby Wrap, which I totally fell in love with. I only wish I'd had that for the first three babies. It was perfect for the slightly older infant - not really ready for a back pack but too heavy for the Bjorn type carriers. I thought for sure that the Moby was all I'd need forever with Girly Pie.

But alas, she did finally hit a weight where the front carry didn't quite work as well, and the amount of time I spent tying the thing into the proper pretzel shape made it really tough to get her in it while we were out and about, especially if I wanted to do the back carry in it. And it was starting to hurt my back a bit anyway.

So that brings us to current. And when I mentioned to my Man that we had never once paid a dime for any of our myriad baby carriers, he was a little less cynical about the idea. Besides, Mary Grace has one and I have tried it out, so I already knew that it fit the bill for a super comfortable and multi purpose carrier for the older (and slightly heavier) baby and toddler. So I priced them out online, and picked out a color I really liked.

And come Mother's Day morning... SURPRISE!!!

Guess what I opened up from my dear and wonderful husband! Yes, that would be this lovely camel colored Ergo baby carrier. Yay!

36 pound Goose was the first to take a spin in the Ergo with Daddy, and he loved it. My Man said he felt really light on his back in it, too.

Then when Girly Pie woke up from her nap I popped her in there and she loved it! She loved it at church in both the front and back holds, she loved it at the park, she loved it today in the yard for a mini nature walk through the woods. And even though my lower back is currently in very bad shape from the hacking cough I have had for a few days (I think I coughed a kink into my back while sleeping one night and I can't quite shake it now) I am still totally comfortable with her in the carrier.

So I'm a happy Momma. I have a feeling I'll be able to tote my girl around in total comfort for a few years yet. As the fourth with three older brothers, Girly Pie is just going to be along for the ride on many an adventure to come for a while. So it will be nice for all of us, I think. And if God has any more children in store for our family, then we'll just get that much more for our money out of it, I guess.

So there you go. The history of my baby carrying career. And in case you were wondering what my suggestions are, after four babies and a whole lot of experimenting, I have concluded that using a Moby-type wrap is ideal for a newborn up to that slightly older and more active baby (I'd say around 6-9 months, depending on their weight). I can nurse easily in it, and they are super close to my skin so that it almost feels as though you are not wearing anything at all besides your baby. It's really adjustable too, which I like. And when they outgrow the usefulness of the Moby, the Ergo seems to me to be the very best for comfort of both Momma and baby. And I love that you can do front, hip or back carries with it. You can do all three with the Moby too, but it does seem to be more of a strain with a heavier baby.

Happy, happy Momma. I'm so tickled to have such a nice gift. What a sweet, sweet Man I have.

A Year in Pictures

Words escape me.

Happy First Birthday to my Sweet Girly Pie.

I love you.