This is not about kids

No time for pleasantries. The little tyrants are in bed, and I have about half a minute before one of them calls me in for some emergency, like a toe not being covered by a blanket, or a paci falling out of a swaddled infant’s mouth, or a papercut on the pinky of an overtired girl. (I am sure a good parent would nip that kind of behavior in the bud, but alas I am not one of those parents.)

The second reason I haven’t written much (the first being the Tyrants themselves, of course) is that I have no good material. I don’t want to write only about my children because to me that means my thought life as well as my daily life has been completely taken over by people not even four feet tall. So I have some sort of rule in my head to not write about my kids very much, except HA HA HA I am writing about them right now, and they have taken over my thought life, because I haven’t written about anything else for months now.

(But while we’re on the subject of Them, let me ask some advice. Madeline has started refusing to wear diapers. That’s not a problem, except for the fact that she has no idea when she NEEDS TO GO. Or WHEN SHE IS GOING, for that matter. What the heck am I supposed to do about this?)

And now for some non-kid thoughts:

1. Ryan and I are watching The Good Wife on Netflix. We are halfway through the most recent season and are trying to catch up before CBS takes the current episodes off the site. I won’t say this is the BEST show I have ever watched*, but I really enjoy it for several reasons. First, the logic that is used to navigate the cases really stretch my brain. I am FOR SURE not smart enough to be a lawyer. Secondly, the law is an area of American life I know very little about, and I enjoy learning about its many strengths and flaws and politics. Thirdly, there are no kids in it. 
2. I just finished up Cloud Atlas for my book club, and I fully intend to write a review of it. Someday. The thing I liked best about the book was the political and social satire--there are soooo many quotes I want to share with you . . . it is rife with “warnings” about the way America (and the rest of the world) conducts herself. There is even a line about the disastrous Pentecostal takeover of North America. Doesn’t that sound ominous? I wonder if the author thinks we are in that now.
3. This is a really good one: my friend (well, if you want to be technical, she is my parents’ friend and the parent of my childhood friends and now my friend) recently started a blog so that she could be intentional about living her 59th year of life. One of her goals for the year is to glean wisdom from different women she would not necessarily otherwise have befriended. One woman is an Iranian Aziz (think princess, though she says that princess is a new term and her tribe has been around for much longer than princesses) whose title dictates that she marry a hero. Only she defines hero as “someone who fulfills his destiny so that a woman may fulfill hers.” Don’t you LOVE THAT? She goes on to explain that a hero gives a woman space to be more fully herself: When he takes care of her needs, she can explore ways to be more fully herself. Likewise, when she takes care of his needs, she frees him up to be more fully himself. Think familial roles, with a lot more elegance and significance. I just really love that thought. A hero is not a strong man in the muscly sense we all think of; a hero is a strong man in that he serves his wife. And she in turn can serve the family from a place of peace and conviction rather than from a place of duty. Wow.

Ok, I think that is all. I can only think of THREE NON-KID THINGS. 

I am so ashamed.

*Those would be Friday Night Lights (drama), Arrested Development (comedy) and Parenthood (hybrid).

Pink clutter

You know, I used to desire my house to still look like an adult’s house after having kids. I would try to restrict the amount of baby gear/kid toys that were in our living room, bedroom, and kitchen because I needed the house to still feel like mine, unlike my life which decidedly did not feel like mine.

Three kids later, the house has gotten away from me. It is so much dirtier than I ever thought I would let it become, and it has passed my "clutter limit" five times over.

But last night, as I was sitting in my bedroom feeding Lainey in a rocker that has been temporarily crammed into the corner, I looked around and saw her bassinet crowding the space between my bed and the wall. I saw her swing taking up the only other open corner of the room. I saw a DVD tower next to my nightstand, full of VeggieTales, Disney movies, and Elmo videos.

And a wave of immense happiness washed over me. 

I swaddled Lainey, put her in that swing which really should have been an eye-sore to me, and walked out to the living room. There was a play dress on the couch, a sleeping bag wadded up in the corner, an unreasonable amount of shoes that Mads had arranged by the front door, and a stroller parked in between some chairs.

Instead of feeling like I needed to tidy up the room, I got my camera out. I don’t want to forget the days of play dresses on the couch, swings in the bedroom, and tiny shoes by the front door. My girls have brought so much fulfillment and meaning to my days that their detritus is welcomed. 

I never, ever thought I would be so happy to have pink clutter take over every. single. room. of the house. But, hey! I think I'm finally growing up. Smelling the roses gets easier every day, and the roses in turn become more fragrant.

Today I am so very, very grateful to God for my girls. Their giggles, their antics, their smiles and games and imaginations . . . they are changing me. I know God specifically gave me Coralie, Madeline, and Lainey, and I know He has things to teach me through and because of them. I have never been so happy to lose bits of myself--  my controlling nature, my need for tidiness, my desire for adult conversation, for heaven’s sake!-- because I am finding richer bits of myself. 

Those bits are pink, and they are everywhere, and they are of the divine. 

Thank you, God.

A KTB short (like those clever short movies, but without the cleverness or the motion-picture-ness)

Hey! When you are feeding a baby in the middle of the night every night, you tend to have a bunch of random thoughts. I thought I'd gather mine here for you so you can feel like you're a part of the middle-of-the-night feedings.

• Coralie started school last week. I sort of dreaded it, because end of an era, blah, blah, blah, but it felt right. I did cry during orientation and after dropping her off the first day, but I found myself surprisingly excited about her time at school when the day finally came. She is such a delightful, smart, funny kid that I know her teachers will like her. And being a former teacher myself, I know all too well that the likable kids. . . well, let's just say it's good to be likable. 

• You know those pronunciation guides after words? Like pronunciation is pronounced prəˌnənsēˈāSHən ? Does anyone know how to read those anymore, or are we all dependent on the little speaker buttons after words that will pronounce the word for us? I am sad to think we might have lost the ability to read pronunciation guides.

• Know what can freak me out? A space-agey future. Read this article about the future of retail if you dare. Then please tell me the world is not headed in that direction. It makes me think about those Left Behind movies, and no one wants to think about those.

• Pertussis also freaks me out. GET YOURSELF VACCINATED IF YOU WANT TO TOUCH MY BABY. Insert a rant here, which I will not publish for fear of alienating someone, but just imagine my ire, ok?

I have such happy middle-of-the-night thoughts, yes?

Here are some day-thoughts for you.

• I found a really great e-calendar that is both an app and a website. It's called Cozi. You're welcome in advance for making your life more organized.

• I bought an e-reader, and I feel really sophisticated reading it. Right now I am reading Cloud Atlas for my book club, and I feel especially cool because I can highlight and annotate without needing to get up to get a pen! Anytime I can accomplish a task without burning a single calorie is a really good time in my book.

• Speaking of calories, ick. I really hate burning them but I love ingesting them. Especially when they are in chocolate.

• Because we can't really travel right now (You know what? I think three small kids is kind of a kill-joy when vacationing), I am dreaming of our future travels. We are going to NYC in the summer of 2014 with our best friends-- without kids-- and we are going to have such a great time, I just know it. Broadway, Ellis Island, Central Park, museums! BEING OUT AND ABOUT PAST EIGHT O'CLOCK! We are also planning a trip to CA to see family and go to Disney Land, but that won't be until Lainey is old enough to appreciate the dollas required to get her there. AND we are planning a really awesome trip to . . .  somewhere . . . for our fifteenth wedding anniversary in 2018 (that is, if Ryan can convince me to stay with him that long). I would love to start booking unbelievable fares and rates and such, but I really don't think airlines are taking reservations to a place called somewhere in the year 2018. 

• And finally, I would like to leave you with a picture. Look at Ryan's quads! While they don't look exactly like that anymore, he is still a very trim man. But he thinks he's fat. If that doesn't make you question everything you thought you knew, I don't know what will.

Gratitude

I want to spend a few moments in gratitude. I have so much to be grateful for: a loving husband, delightful children, model parents, a thoughtful sister, great in-laws, and a wonderful extended family. I have a house that is more than adequate, plenty of food on the table, cool air in the house, clothes in my closet, and diapers in the nursery. I am healthy, and those I love are healthy.

***

I will admit that my days with three little kids is total chaos. Total. Chaos. My house is a mess even though I straighten it a billion times a day; I have no mental energy to think about what to cook my family for one meal, let alone three meals a day; I am holed up in "baby jail" feeding Lainey for what feels like eight hours a day; and someone always needed something five minutes ago.

Also. Madeline now requests to wear underwear over her diaper. Coralie has to put on lip gloss before we go anywhere. The girls are completely unaware that it is a hundred degrees outside and ask to play on the driveway every ten minutes. I took Madeline to get her hair cut, and the stylist did such a horrible job that five cuts into it, I told her to stop. I took Mads home and then tried my hand at cutting her hair. (Needless to say, it's short.) Coralie has announced that she will be taking showers instead of baths now.

Throw in a newborn, and I am in over my head. For someone who likes order and predictability, my life is laughable right now. I taught Coralie to tell me, whenever she thinks I am stressed, "Mom, it's only for a few months."

The new-baby stage is so so short. And so so so sweet. I don't want to wish these next months away, but I know I need the reminder that life will not always be so chaotic. I am grateful for this chaos, and I am grateful that the chaos isn't permanent. 

But there is something else I am abundantly grateful for.

***

My mom, RiRi, lived with us for an entire month, helping me and loving my girls. She did laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning, bedtime routines, cooking, counseling, and playing while she was here. She freed me up to learn about my newest daughter, to go to doctor's appointments, to rest while my body healed,  and to actually enjoy the craziness of bringing home a new baby. She freed Ryan up to go back to work before his wife was ready to be alone with three kids all day.

She held Lainey when she cried or needed to be burped, she let Coralie do make-up with her every day, she taught Madeline at least a dozen new words, and she talked with me late into the night while I fed Lainey one last time before bed.

I don't think it is possible for me to adequately express either my gratitude or my love for my mom. Or my admiration for that matter. But I do know how to be a good mom to daughters based on my mom's example, and I will work every day to pass that legacy onto my daughters.

Thank you, Mom, for giving us a month of your life, for the third time in four years. Thank you, Dad, for being a "bachelor" for that long and for coming to Wichita four times in the past 30 days. (And while I'm at it, thank you, Allie for making the trip twice. I loved having you here for Lainey's birth. Your sacrifice to make those two short trips in the span of five days leaves me feeling very blessed to have you as my sister.)

***

Gratitude. Yes, that is what is defining my day today.

Our story

It’s hard to know exactly which details to include in telling one’s story, and it seems even more difficult if one is trying to show how God has orchestrated one’s life.* 

Does my story start when my parents met at their local church of Christ? Or years earlier, when their parents each moved to Amarillo, for different reasons?

Or when my parents decided to get married and then proceeded to have two (very awesome) little girls?

Or when my dad decided to leave his position as a pharmacist in Texas and move his family all over the country for sales positions?

Or does the story only really begin when Mom and Dad announced that we would be moving to St. Louis, after which I sobbed and cried and said I wasn’t going and where was St. Louis, anyway?

I don’t know how far back to start when telling my family’s story. Since I have to pick a point in time, I think I will start in August of 1996, with one very important lead-in.

I truly have the best parents I could ever have asked for, prayed for, wished for. I am grateful for everything they did for me, starting the day I was born. They prayed for me, challenged me, disciplined me, cared for me, and ultimately set me up for the life I have now. I do not wish to minimize their impact on my life, but I have to start my family’s story somewhere, so I will start the summer I turned fourteen.

We (Mom, Dad, Allie, and I) had moved to St. Louis from Atlanta in August of 1996. For some reason, we visited the Lafayette church of Christ the first Sunday we were in town. For some reason, we went to Sunday School that very first time visiting. For some reason, Ryan Bond was sitting in my class instead of at his grandparents’ lake house, where he usually spent his summer weekends.

I remember what I was wearing, probably because Ryan won’t let me forget it. I do know that my make-up was awful, I had bangs, and I still had braces on my teeth. Nonetheless, Ryan said the first time he saw me, he knew he would marry me. I had just turned fourteen; he had just turned fifteen.

He waited a full year before asking me out. He and my dad rode bikes the day of our first date, sophomore year Homecoming. For some reason, he kissed me. For some reason, I let him. Then, for a reason known as humiliation, I avoided him for a full year.

For some reason, he didn’t give up on me, and a year later he asked me to Homecoming our junior year. For some reason, one of his friends asked very publicly if we were a couple (we weren’t), and, not wanting to embarrass him in front of his friends, I said that it was up to Ryan. Ryan, of course, said that we were a couple.

For some reason, we stayed a couple most of the rest of high school. (I did break up with him our senior year for a month or two and for reasons I won’t discuss on this blog because they seem very lame now. Let’s just say I had a crush on another boy, and that other boy never made a move.)

For reasons entirely obvious, we went to college together. Ryan asked me to marry him after the fall semester of our junior year (WE WERE SO YOUNG), and I said yes.

We wed the summer before our senior year of college, and I guess that is where the real story of our family begins.

Our life together has taken lots of twists and turns, not the least of which has been our move to our current Kansan city. The woman who hired Ryan put us in contact with a local realtor. As she drove us around town, she pointed out area high schools where I might be interested in teaching. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I wasn’t planning on teaching here.

For some reason, I hastily applied anyway at one school. For some reason, when they called to schedule an interview, I said yes. For some reason, they had a vacancy in the subject area I taught, for the next semester, with my very favorite curriculum. And for some reason, they hired me.

One of that school’s board members introduced Ryan to his son-in-law, and Ryan has since worked for both men. Those jobs have allowed me to stop teaching and to stay home with our daughters, and those men have introduced both of us to a wonderful local community.

We have become a family here. This is where we learned very difficult professional lessons, home-owner lessons, marriage lessons, and relationship lessons. This is where we have grown our family to three, four, and five members.

What if my parents hadn’t moved to St. Louis? What if Ryan had given up on me when I kept giving him reasons to? What if I hadn’t become a teacher? What if we hadn’t had our exact realtor?

Sometimes, it’s fun to play the what if game. But right now, I am just so very grateful that all of the little details in my life have worked out just so, so that I am sitting in this house at this address in this city with this husband beside me and those girls upstairs not sleeping even when they should be.

I love our family’s story. And I think we should know more about other people’s stories. The next time you see me, unless I am heavily drugged in a hospital room or equally drugged with the potent sleep-deprivation-because-a-newborn-lives-here phenomena, please tell me your story. I would really love to hear it.

*As you read, please assume I acknowledge God directed all of the details that led me to this point in my life. I could never, ever, have built a life like I have.

It's never my fault

This tricky little convenient tool called the iPad caused me to delete my post on The 19th Wife. And also to delete another "musing" I had written on how much I loathe cliches. I, in all my blogging wisdom, didn't save copies of those posts anywhere else, so now they are totally gone.

I am sure you are heartbroken. And also mad at the iPad like I am.

And to add salt (?) to the wound, I have no musings cooking in my head right now to replace those posts. All I am thinking about these days is how to take a quick nap when my girls are awake, how to take a nap when my girls are resting, and how to keep Ryan up until 11 or so at night when I become tired again. 

On the baby front, this little girl is big! Like, she is measuring two weeks farther along than Coralie and Madeline were at this stage. Someone asked me at church on Sunday if I was having twins. Uhhh ... I sure hope not! That surprise would mean an epic fail of prenatal monitoring and diagnostic technology. All signs are pointing to a single baby girl with a small(ish) head (WHEW) and long arms and legs.

I am planning on posting a belly picture at some point. I don't normally post pictures of my pregnant belly, but a few people have asked for one, so instead of posting it on Facebook where people don't have a choice of whether or not the picture shows up in their newsfeed, I will post it on the blog where people can choose whether or not to click and see this Large Marge Mama. You have been warned.

I guess what I'm saying is, this might not be BondMusings so much as BondFamilyHappenings for awhile. Once I can get baby off the brain, maybe that can make room for some more intelligent thoughts.

In the meantime, I will leave you with two things. 

First, a quote from CS Lewis a dear friend left in the comments of my last post:

“My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. He shatters it Himself. He is the great iconoclast. Could we not almost say that this shattering is one of the marks of His presence? The Incarnation is the supreme example; it leaves all previous ideas of the Messiah in ruins” (A Grief Observed p. 52).

I love so many things about that quote. I love that Lewis is not complacent in his view of God, but that he is open to discovering new ways of looking at our loving, complex God. I also love that he is disciplined?generous? enough to work through and share his re-renderings in all of his writings. (And, by the way, I would argue that his idea of God is a divine idea.) But most importantly, I love thinking about the fact that God himself will not be made into an idol, that He shatters that idol in front of anyone who has eyes. God is loving, yes, but He is also innovative and aggressive and deliberate in how He reveals Himself to us. God is anything but boring or predictable.

And second, a picture of these beautiful daughters of mine:

Kinda makes sifting through a post about nothing  w o r t h   i t,  doesn't it?

A self-reprimand and a catch-up

Me: Hey, did you know that it's been MORE THAN a month since you've posted on your blog?
Me: ...
Me: You should feel guilty about this.


I guess the upside to this being my blog is that while the guilt of absence totally belongs to me, so does the judgment that is meted out. Thankfully, I decided to cut myself some slack.

So, let's catch up on this past month. Let's see. . . we moved Madeline into Coralie's room this past week. There are some serious parties happening in there when the lights go out. Some of the parties die off around 10pm and then resume at 4am. I love to hear their giggles, but someone please tell me that these parties don't last forever and that I will indeed have well rested older children by the time I bring a newborn home!

I promise that's not a dresser drawer. That is a trundle bed.

The girls LOVE sharing a room. They are best friends (for now? forever?) and actually want to go to bed (although I have a feeling it's for the parties and not for the sleeping, because I am smart like that).


Also, I am bigger now. (Side note: does anyone else find it strange that anyone -- A N Y O N E -- can feel the freedom to touch a pregnant woman's stomach or comment on how she looks? It is just so strange to have men I hardly know commenting on how I look pregnant. I mean, people are very kind in their comments of course, but still. I am not sure I am comfortable with people noticing how my body is changing. And also, I realize this might sound braggy, but I promise it's not. I don't think I look different at all, but other people apparently do. For instance, people have been telling me how beautiful I look, as if this is a total contrast to how I normally look. The first few times I was told I look beautiful, I was all, "Oh, thanks! That is such a nice thing to say!" But now, I'm all [internally of course] "What, do I normally look like a dog? Why is everyone so SURPRISED that I look ok? Even Ryan told me that he 'actually liked my face' one day. DO I NEED TO INVEST IN SOME PREGNANCY HORMONES TO MAKE PEOPLE TOLERATE MY FACE AT ALL ONCE THIS BABY COMES OUT? Because I am starting to be paranoid about this.) Insecurities aside, I feel pretty good. I don't feel as big as I look (but then again, I may not be a good judge of how I look), and as long as I take Zantac, my pregnancy symptoms are relegated to the baby's movements.

I think I have nothing else to report. We hang out here some days, go to the zoo other days, and just generally eat, sleep, and play. Ryan's company's annual meeting is this week, so I will not see him until either Thursday night or Friday morning. I have lots of playdates and activities scheduled to break up the days.

Oh, I have also been Prepping for Baby. No, I haven't washed a stitch of laundry or packed for the hospital, but I have been cleaning quite a bit. Baseboards, windows (which are already finger-printed again), doors, etc have never looked better. This baby may not have clean clothes to wear, but, by golly, she will come home to a clean(ish) house!

Ok, the girls have been drawing on their kitchen while I type, and I am pretending not to notice, but I better intervene before things get (more) out of control.

Peace out.

Valentine's Day

I know, I know. This is so late it's not even relevant now, but since I haven't written in FOREVER, I have a lot of catching up to do.

So here is my general philosophy on Valentine's Day: it's awkward. The expectations of connecting with your spouse in a crowded restaurant while you pay an arm and a leg for someone to babysit the fruit of your love (uh, the kids) is just unreasonable.

So, I rebel.

In my opinion (and I thank God I married a man who validates my opinions and is willing to go along with my numerous, strange requests), our wedding anniversary is the date when we celebrate the commitment we have made to each other. Valentine's Day is about love, and I want to include my children in that celebration.

So here's what we do:

We dress up.

We have a nice candlelit dinner (Papa Murphy's heart-shaped pizza, salad, sparkling grape juice) with the kids. At dinner, we talk about how much we love each other and how much we love our girls and how Valentine's Day is a day to celebrate our family's love for each other. (Sorry if that was a little cheesy.)

The kids open the presents.

 We play with the presents.

And we eat a wedding cake. Not the whole cake, obviously. Ryan just orders the cake topper.

I have really loved creating traditions with our family. I know every family does Valentine's Day differently, and I think however you celebrate (or not), that's great. The important thing is to feel loved, to love, and to know that Hallmark (isn't that to whom we are supposed to direct all our snarky comments about Valentine's Day being a commercial holiday, etc?) isn't the one who dictates what you do on that day.

One important detail: at the end of the evening, after I felt we had really driven home the point of Valentine's Day, I asked Coralie what Valentine's Day is all about. She said, "Having a PARTY!!!!!!" So. We're still working on that.

Six things you may not know

1. While waiting in line to see Christmas lights a few weeks ago, a very angry mom accosted us. I don't know how it's possible that I never shared this story with you, but the whole event was so unbelievable that as soon as I knew we were not actually going to be gunned down, I said, "Oh. my. gosh. I have to blog about this."

I started typing out what exactly happened, but it's very technically and sort of boring, so I'll condense it.

A van tried to cut in the hour-plus long line to see the Christmas lights and no one would let it. So a woman, the passenger, gets out of her car and stands RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR CAR so if we try to move forward, we will hit her. Like RUN OVER HER. Well, this is ridiculous, so Ryan honks. (There are police patrolling to keep crazy people like this from cutting in line, but they are nowhere to be found.) She marches over to Ryan's window, starts yelling and gesticulating and turning red in the face and ends her tirade with a "MERRY CHRISTMAS."

Unbeknownst to us, the car from MI in front of us thought that their car had been hit by this crazy family trying to cut in. So a passenger no shorter than 6'6" gets out to confront the lady. She yells at him, too! This lady had no scruples. The tall guy finally gets back in his car, and the woman whips something out of her jacket's inside pocket. I was CERTAIN it was a gun. (It wasn't-- it was a pen and pad of paper, and she made a big show of taking down the MI car's license plate.) But if anyone did conceal and carry in line to see Christmas lights? It would be this lady.

Then it all became very awkward as we HAD to let this van in line in front of us, though people behind us yelled and honked at the van in protest. So here is this hostile van, in between the confrontational MI car and us, who clearly didn't want to let it in, just tra-la-la-ing through the park, hanging out the windows and taking pictures of the pretty Christmas lights. Merry Christmas indeed.

2. I think Madeline may have broken my nose. At the very least, she chipped part of the bridge off and it is now floating elsewhere on my nose. What happened was this: some very nice evangelical women have been canvassing our neighborhood trying to convert people. Because I am already a Christian, we usually just end up chatting about this and that, and--I guess--we have become "friends." Well, they came back twice last week. Twice. The first time, I had less than an hour to get dressed, feed my kids, get my house show-ready, and get the kids out the door. I politely told them that it wasn't a good time to chat, and they cheerily said they would come back another day. Well, that other day was last Wednesday. Coralie, Mads, and I were playing in Coralie's room, and I saw the evangelicals walking up our driveway when I looked out Coralie's window. I DID NOT feel like chatting that day, so I did something heroic: I taught my children how to hide in a closet. I shoved the three of us into C's closet and told the girls to be quiet and to wait until those people walked away. Coralie was confused as to why I wouldn't want to open the front door, and Madeline just played along like she always does. Well, pretty soon, she found Coralie's toy golf club and started playing with it. Now, this is no ordinary toy golf club--  it is SOLID. It's from Pottery Barn, who I am sure you know makes every single product of theirs weigh three times more than their competitors do. So she picked up the club, raised it over her head, and before I knew what was happening, cracked it down on my nose. The worst part? I couldn't even cry out because we had to be quiet hiding from those nice women.

3. I am eating an absurd amount of mac and cheese these days. I don't really even know why. Last night I made a box at 9 pm while I watched the Golden Globes. I'm not proud of it, but I did it.

4. We had our sonogram, and we are having another little girl. Besides the excitement of having a healthy baby girl join our family, I am also experiencing a mild amount of panic over the cost and drama of having THREE GIRLS. I'm not so worried about the next few years, but I am TERRIFIED about what will happen in 13 years. You know, when we have THREE TEENAGE GIRLS. THREE. TEENAGE GIRLS.

5. I turned down an opportunity to do some tutoring. This was hard for me, as I really enjoy 1) working with teenagers, 2) using my brain, and 3) making money. But, alas, the timing wasn't good for our family.

6. I am sooooooooo behind on blogging the contents of my brain. I have two more posts I would like to write, but I don't know if I can stop playing Words With Friends long enough to type out anything besides words like "zeds" and "extractable" and "yak". But I'll try.

As Coralie would say, "peace out".

A double whammy

You know how you can read something a million times, and then one time-- BAM!-- something totally new hits you about it? Last night in our Bible study, we were studying the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand, and two things surprised me.

1. The story opens with Jesus telling his disciples, "Hey, let's go somewhere quiet together and get some rest."

Here, I am thinking, "Jesus, you had me at hello. I'd LOVE to go somewhere quiet and get some rest."

Then, when Jesus and his disciples arrive at the appointed place, they find that more than five thousand people have walked to that very place to wait for them

Here, I am thinking, "Brother, I feel you on this one! Everywhere I go, I am met with a (small) crowd. I can't wait to see how you disperse the crowd--I'll file that away and use it myself next time."

(Yes, I am an idiot in that I have read the story before and know how it ends, but still.)

Then, the Bible says that Jesus met them with compassion.

Here, I am thinking "Amen, brother! You tell 'em! Wait. . . what? You mean that when I sneak away to a remote corner of the house (ok, my closet) to read my emails and I hear four little feet running after me, I am supposed to meet my little girls with compassion instead of annoyance?"

Forget that Jesus fed five thousand men with five loaves of bread and two fish-- the REAL miracle is that he didn't snap the crowd's necks off and say, "CAN'T YOU SEE I NEED SOME TIME ALONE SO I CAN READ MY EMAILS, GIRLS?" Or, uh, something like that.

2. After reading all the way to the end of the story, our pastor's wife asked when we most feel the Lord working in our lives. I said that the Lord is always working in our lives; the changing factor is whether or not we acknowledge it.

Oh, yeah. That reminds me, I started this here blog so I can actively track how God is working in my life. I figured that if I could sit down and actually write some posts, it would mean that I would have had to have done some thinking and meditating beforehand, and that is usually when I see God working.

Ok, so I haven't announced this on my blog yet, but--surprise!--I am 19 weeks pregnant with our third little one. Also--surprise!--our house was put on the market this week. Also--surprise!--Ryan is teaching back-to-back sessions of a night class at our local university and won't be done with that assignment until my due date basically.

So to say that this is an insanely stressful and busy time for our family would be an understatement. Our house went on the market on Tuesday, and we have had five, FIVE, showings since Wednesday morning. Do you know what it takes to mobilize this tired pregnant mama and her two I'm-never-in-a-hurry-unless-you-bust-out-the-candy-basket kids? A lot. And twenty minutes' notice is not a lot of time to clean up the house, pretend like four people don't live there, and get the heck out of dodge.

Annnyway, last week as I saw in my mind's eye what these next few months could look like, I prayed that God would keep our spirits buoyed and our marriage intact. Oh, and if He could manage the sale of this house, the purchase of another one, Ryan's first job stresses, Ryan's second job stresses, my daily taskload, AND the growing of a fifth member of the family, that'd be peachy. But that all sounded greedy, so I just focused on asking for peace and joy in this time.

So. Here's how he has answered. We have had a remarkable amount of interest in our home, which is incredible since it is January of 2012, you know, the QUARTER OF DOOM in the real estate market, in the worst economy EVER. (Ok, so maybe the Great Depression was worse.) Five showings scheduled in under 48 hours?! That's awesome!

Also, I have felt very affirmed in my writing lately. It's a scary thing to put yourself out there in print, and I have felt nothing but encouragement that I should continue doing so.

Also, we sold our broken Blu-Ray player on Craigslist today (the DVD and WiFi still worked, so someone actually wanted it), and the guy who bought it asked Ryan where he worked. Long story short, this dude had heard of Ryan and his former side consulting business and said that someone had highly recommended to his firm that they hire Ryan! Not that Ryan could pursue that even if he wanted to, but that affirmation was a true God-send for him.

I write all this not to say how perfect our life is (see: trying to sell a house, juggle multiple jobs, and harness two small independent children) but to show how much more abundantly God answered my prayers than I could have imagined!

Just like Shasta learned that there had only been one Lion, I am learning that God is so much bigger than a singularly-focused request.

These recent weeks, in pictures

Our very, very, very, dear, dear, dear friends came into town in October. Once upon a time, we saw them multiple times a week. Now we happily take what we can get and survive on texts and calls in the interim. This lovely lady below is pregnant with her third child. Actually, she is 36 weeks right now. Isn't she beautiful? 

We still managed to get in our annual trip to the pumpkin patch with them. These girls have been going together since they were babies. Now they are pilots. Wow, where does the time go?

A very precarious double-rider trike experience led to--you guessed it--a crash. Unfortunately, my child was the one at the handlebars, so now her driving record more closely resembles her father's than her mother's.

Finally! A picture of the perfect, precious, and power-walker Madeline.

The annual school bus shot. Madeline looks like she wants to make a run for it, and Coralie and Cammy are breaking the rules of "one child per seat". Awesome.

Ryan's place of employment loves them some dressed up kiddos on Halloween. So we all bundled up our little trick-or-treaters and took them on a "parade" around the office.

Our fairy

Our kitty

Coralie got more and more bold as the night went on and even tried entering many of the homes. Madeline got more and more snuggly.

Oh yeah! Ryan and I went to Vegas and left our kids in St Louis over Thanksgiving! This picture is taken INSIDE our hotel. It's crazy what they can build in Vegas. (Also, they kids did great with their grandparents, so that will make adult-only vacations that much more tempting. Though I am not sure Ryan would want to take me anywhere again as I slept so much he worried that I had mono.)

Inside my favorite hotel, the Wynn. This garden was gorgeous. Yes, I am wearing the same outfit in the above picture, and these three photos encompass every single picture we took on the trip. Yes, I only took three pictures, and I took them all on the same day. Guess who won't be making a Shutterfly vacation book?

 A close-up of the garden in the Wynn. Do you think I could make this in my bedroom?

 Also, Coralie got her hair cut. She looks twice as old now, don't you think?

The end

Turns out, I DO remember how to type

Tap. Tap. Is this thing on? Can anyone hear me?

My body has mutinied on me. My fingers have absolutely refused to write anything at all lately. I mean, I have written many a (very eloquent, I might add) post in my head as I lay awake in bed late at night, but those musings have somehow never made it onto this blog. Whose sole purpose is to record those musings.

Anyway, here's my best effort to condense the last however-long-period into one post.

1. I have read two compelling books for my book club lately. The first is Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, and the second is Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. Both were non-fiction, but that is their only similarity.

Unbroken, the story of a young man's against-all-odds survival during a brutal WWII experience, wins best book of the year for me. What happens to him would seem unlikely in even the most outrageous fiction novels. That his story is actually true? Unthinkable.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle challenges its readers to rethink the way they eat. Kingsolver and her family vow to eat only locally grown (defined by their county limits) food for a year, with the exception of coffee, dried fruit, and spices. I will admit that it has inspired me to start a garden for myself, as she claims that the food one can grow in one's backyard outshines the produce found in one's grocer, both in taste and in quality. So who wants to hoe a garden for me? I promise I'll water it!!

2. Coralie has earned the title of a Three Year Old. Charming, delightful, smart, and a  h a n d f u l. After you hoe a garden for me, care to babysit? I kid, I kid.

3. Madeline is practically running everywhere. Today in Dillon's, I turned to look for an 8 oz bag of cheese per my coupon instead of the 16 oz bag which was at my eye level (my life has many exciting parallels to Unbroken, don't you think?), and she had run down two aisles and was trying to pull kitty litter off the shelf. Coralie found this delightful; I found this rather harrowing.

4. Speaking of harrowing, Coralie can "swim". I promise you, her teacher means to near-drown her at every lesson, but somehow that little girl can get from one pool wall to another without meeting her Maker. I avoid going to her lessons if at all possible because it is all too stressful to watch. Ryan assures me this will be the case no matter what recreation my girls take up. This got me thinking-- every stinking hobby really is dangerous! Getting spiked in soccer or track. Getting hit in the face with a ball in basketball, softball, or volleyball. Getting carpal tunnel in piano lessons. Tripping up the risers in choir. Show me a "harmless" recreation and I'll show you an inherent danger.

5. In case you missed the news, Christmas is just around the corner! We are trying to do something special every day to celebrate the season, and it's much easier than I imagined. Today we went shopping for our Angel Tree girl, and tomorrow we are doing special pedicures. I know, I don't know how we are fitting it all in, but we are.

6. Also, I think I have pretty much figured out how to reconcile Jesus and Santa, thank goodness, but don't you go confusing my girls with your normal Christmas stories. I've worked too hard to get my story straight.


Ok, well, maybe you're up to speed? I am not sure when I will be able to write again, since typing is such a risk-infused activity and I don't want to take any unnecessary chances this close to Christmas. I hope you and yours are doing well and that you find yourselves in good health and good company this season!


PS-- We are not doing Christmas cards this year because I never did get my usual inspiration to undertake that project. Please don't take us off your Christmas card list!! I hope to be back up and running as usual next year. :)

Pumpkin Patch

When Ryan and I first met this exact group of people, there were no kids. And then one little boy came along a few months later. And then eleven months after that, Coralie arrived.

Today, there are this many kids:

Actually, we are missing three newborn babies that were present but not pictured.

This whole group of friends doesn't get together very often (see: sheer number of kids), but when we do, it's a lot of fun. They are all good people, every one of them. They are loyal and interesting and devoted to each other. I think you're pretty lucky if you can surround yourself with these kinds of people.

***
As the Bond family, this is our fourth year to come to this pumpkin patch.

In 2008, Coralie was about eight months old:

In 2009, Coralie was about one and a half:

In 2010, Coralie was about two and a half, and Madeline was about two months old:

(Madeline is under the blanket.)

And in 2011, Coralie was three and a half, and Madeline was one.

(Two apologies I need to make to my children here: Coralie--I am sorry your pants are too short. Madeline--I am sorry we didn't take more pictures of you.)

Memories and traditions make this heart happy, and when you include my kids in them? Fuh-get-about-it. I'm on top of the world.

It's coming

So I have a whopping four posts started, and I fully intend to write them. Sometime soon. Here are the topics: cool parents: a musing, a girls update, my most recent book club book review, and a recap of our trip to the pumpkin patch.

In the meantime, the girls are getting cuter every day. Today we were singing, "Praise him, praise him, all ye little children, God is love" and Coralie instead sang, "Break him, break him, all ye little children."

So THAT'S her strategy.

Top Ten Reasons You Missed Me*

In chronological order:

10. Ryan cut Madeline's hair and I was so embarrassed about it I couldn't even get out of bed.

9. The weather was so nice that we spent a great deal of time outside.

8. I was out of town, with these girls. (Yes, Robin, I stole the only picture anyone took all weekend!)

7. I had the stomach flu.

6. Coralie had the stomach flu.

5. Madeline had the stomach flu.

4. We stained both of our decks and our front porch railings, which took ALL DAY LONG. I wish I had pictures of this because we gave Coralie a teeny, tiny paintbrush so she could "help" us, and she did a great job! But she was in her underwear as we knew oil based stain + three year old = ruined clothes.

3. Ryan got the stomach flu.

2. When I last sat down to write, I got a call from a close friend and just HAD to chat for an hour.

1. Parenthood (the TV show) is sooooo good that it demands my complete attention, Internet be darned.

And now it is Wednesday. I have book club tonight and then a date with THE CARDINALS when I get back. And then another date with the Cardinals tomorrow night after a class at the gym. Also, GO CARDS.

 So you could say the past week or so has been characterized by Lysol and laundry and TV. I know you're jealous of my glamorous life. I sure am.

*This is a less humble way of saying, "Here's my alibi."