Dreaming in Colors of Pink and Blue

"Just how sure are you?" Brian asked.
"97%," I replied confidently.
"Wow... that's just going to make it easier for me to laugh at you when you're wrong," he smirked.  I gave him my side smile and raised one eyebrow to indicate that I was surely not going to be wrong on this one.

It was a treat to be traveling alone together in the car on a weekday morning.  We wove our way through the traffic and lights on our way to the OB's office where the ultrasonographer had my name next to his 9:40 appointment.  I've been looking at pink quilts and bedsets for over a month now.  Planning the hairbows and little tights with darling dainty shoes.  The gender check would just give me ground to rub in that I had been right all along.

"I know," I admitted, "I used to roll my eyes when people said they knew - but now I get it."  I halfheartedly tried to defend my position, but knew I couldn't really explain how I knew - just that I did.  Mother's intuition, I guess.  Plus, the pregnancy has been almost identical to McKenzie's pregnancy and almost nothing like the boys'.

I swung my water bottle by my side as we strolled into the office and then laughed with the check-in lady about the slow computers.  Soon I was lying comfortably on my back and welcomed the warm gel as it squirted onto my belly.  Our ultrasonographer was a military man, turning 50, and just back from Afghanistan.   Talkative, a bit boisterous, and gave off enough self-confidence to somehow make you feel both comfortable and on guard.  The lights went low and the magic wand began making it's way around the bulge that held our baby.  There she was!  Our baby!

Measurements, measurements, measurements.  Head.  Brain.  Heart.  Stomach.  One kidney.  Two kidneys...

"Okay, getting close to gender now, so be careful where you look if you don't want to know!" The ultrasonographer slid the wand down the baby's body to measure the leg bone.  After several ultrasounds in my life, I've become pretty good at recognizing what I see, and that first pass through the leg bones brought a smile to my face.  Looks like I had the proof I needed to start shopping for tights and hair-bows after all.

He finished measuring the leg bones and said, "Alright, let's see if we can get a good picture of the gender here... ... oh! that's a great picture!" He froze the frame and sat back with his arms folded across his chest.  "Any guesses?" he asked.

My jaw dropped.

"I... was... wrong!" I said.
"Ha!" Brian said simultaneously.
The ultrasonographer laughed.  "I see that all the time," he said.  "Parents don't actually care what it is... they just want to be right!"

I was in a state of shock for the rest of the ultrasound.  A boy?  We're having a boy!  I was so sure, though... a boy!?  After the ultrasound, Brian was kind.  He didn't rub it in at all.  Instead, he pulled out his ipod touch and started sifting through boy names.  "Alister?"  "Ammon?"  "Aaron?"  "Acopotalus?"  We laughed at some, sneered at others, and thoughtfully nodded our head at a few.  Hadn't we been though this before?

The rest of my day was spent blowing up blue balloons, streaming blue streamers, pulling out all the blue blankets and stuffed animals I could find and arranging them all over the kids' room.  In big blue letters I spelled out

It's 

A 

B O Y !

and hung it from the bunk beds.  All the blue animals rested on the top bunk, pointing their faces towards the door to welcome the kids home from school.  Stepping into the hall to take in the room, I smiled, locked the door from the inside and shut it in front of me.  In bold letters I made one more banner:  Boy or Girl? it read, and strung it on the outside of the door. 

After the kids scrambled off the bus, they weren't even halfway through the yard before they started yelling, "Do you know!?  Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?!"  

"I do," I said calmly.  

"WELL?!?!?!  What is it!?"

"I can't tell you yet."
"Whyyyyyyyyyy?" they whined.

"Because Daddy wants to be here to tell you, too.  He will be home in one hour.  But I'll show you part of my surprise right now."  I led them down the hall to their locked bedroom door.  They jumped up and down at the banner outside as McKenzie read it out loud, "Boy or Girl?"  I explained that their room was decorated in either all pink or all blue, depending on whether it was a brother or a sister joining our family.  After trying the locked door, the anticipation seemed to melt their legs right on the spot and they crumbled to the floor with exaggerated moans of agony in having to wait 'a whole hour' to open the door.  Knowing we'd get nowhere on our homework in that state, I piled all the kids in the car and took them to the library and the grocery store to pick up the new books on hold and to get dessert for the missionaries we were feeding that night.  But mostly to kill the hour a little quicker than sitting in the house, staring at the door, would feel like.  

Daddy came home while I was in the middle of sauteing onions.  I turned off the stove at the eager request from the children (and husband) that 'now' was the time to open the door.  Brian held the kids back a bit and, grabbing the video camera, I unlocked the door and carefully let myself in to capture their faces as they opened the door.  I sat in the bedroom alone for only 10 seconds or so, but it was enough... my brain quieted from the hustle of the day and, for the first time, I let the joy touch my heart that we would be welcoming another son into our family.  Joy in the truth that my kids love each other so deeply and were already in love with this new baby.  Joy at the excitement radiating from my husband.  "Alright!" Daddy's voice came from outside the door, "Open it up!"  The doorknob rattled just before the door swung open and an eager bolus of children stumbled into the room.

"Well," said McKenzie pulling up short, "I guess we're having another boy!"

"Boy!" said Carson.

Miles was living on the excitement of the other two children as he had, in fact, helped me decorate the room and knew exactly what it looked like inside.  But you wouldn't have known it from the surprised and excited look on his face.  Bright eyes, mouth half open, curls dancing on top of his head as he bounced up and down, mirroring his older brother and sister.  "I'm a boy!" he kept on saying.

That night I felt a deep, deep sense of gratitude.  Gratitude so intense that I left the house to go for a walk at 11:00pm and called my mom to talk about the day.  We talked for almost two hours and, at 1:00am, I crawled into bed next to my sleeping, warm husband.

So grateful for that man.  So grateful for my happy kids.  So grateful for the anticipation of our new, little son.  Yes, a girl would have been fun but, after all, now I don't have to worry about finding a way to organize more hairbows... or spend time finding little tights, or dainty shoes....  My last thoughts before I fell asleep were of McKenzie.  I had been so worried about how she would take the news (it was quite clear from early on that she and I were both cheering for a little sister), but she was so delighted... I even heard several heartfelt giggles from her as she told Grandma.  I thought of our book club... of the many nights I've lay in her bed (long after the boys are asleep) to talk about life.  Hooray that I get to keep that special girl to myself for a while longer - perhaps forever - as my only daughter. 

And, man, do I love raising boys... 

 (as long as they aim properly)

My Lifesaver

My beautiful sister, Amber.

Can you believe she took 4 months out of her life to come live with me?  With her around, I feel like we are almost staying on top of life... dishes are usually done... kids feel loved and played with... the playroom gets clean more often than not... she even brought a cute little purple hippo filled with rice that you can stick in the microwave and use as a heating pad.

This pregnancy is going so much better than all my others did.  It's because of Amber.

And, don't worry.  I'm not upset at all that I've been asked three times if she's my daughter...  three times!  Daughter?  Daughter!?  Do I really look like I could have a 22 year old daughter?  But, again, I'm totally not upset about it.

Wordless Wednesday

Scrambled Thoughts V (part 2)

4. If you're going to use green apple scented Swave shampoo as your bubble bath, you do not need to empty a quarter of the bottle into the running water...

...even if you're filling up Nana's gigantic bathtub.  Apparently knowing the ratio of water to bubble bath soap is not one of those things that comes along with a mother's intuition.  At least for me... ahem.  The water level only reached about halfway up the sides of the bathtub before it was clear that any more water would result in bubbles streaming and seeping over the sides of the tub (clean floor!).  Consequently, this bath session became all about fun and not about getting clean since a shower was necessary afterwards.

But... I think we all agreed that it was most definitely worth it.

5. If you've ever wanted to lie on a giant waterbed out in the middle of your front lawn, I know the secret.

All you need is a giant plastic tarp, a roll of duct tape, a hose, and some crazy people to put it all together.

 (I know, I know... the exposure hurts your eyes on this one.  Sorry.  But their faces are just too cute to delete.)  Use the duct tape to makes sure all sides are sealed tightly.  Waterproof tightly.  But, make sure to leave a little hole on the last side to insert the hose into.

Fill it up, tape off the small opening, and enjoy!

Warning:  Once you let the kids walk on it, it will start to puncture smallish holes all over (or biggish holes, depending on the size of the foot that goes through).  But, don't worry about that, because it kind of makes it more fun that way, anyway.

 6.  If you have an uncle who will let you push him over again and again, then you have a cool uncle.

At least, if you're Miles.  Especially if your uncle lets you push him over outside on the hard pavement. 

7.  If one hand is around a delicious homemade roll, and the other hand is around a golden retriever...

...and if that golden retriever starts eying that roll...

...you may want to move one of your hands.  Preferrably the one with the roll.  Otherwise...

...you may end up disappointed. 

If only I had snapped one more picture after this one so I had that adorable facial expression that came a fraction of a second after this one: sharp eyes with furrowed eyebrows halfway between bewilderment and anger, directed right at the happy dog.  Hilarious - once we realized that Zoe did not, in fact, mistake part of Miles's hand for an extra chunk of roll. 


8. Nana's are the greatest.

 Love how all of them are completely transfixed on the television and oblivious to Nana's hilarious position.  Hey, at least she's getting a foot rub out of it!

9.  Miles might one day be a professional four wheel racer.

But probably not.  Because he was a bit terrified of this machine.  It took him a full day to warm up to the idea of going out on it.  The other kids had a great time, though. 

10.  It's kind of cool when your 8 year old daughter comes up from the dressing room in a cute pink dress, and then your mother pulls up an old picture of herself that she's recently scanned into her computer from back when she played Barbara in My Turn On Earth...

...and you realize that it is the exact same dress.  You are then forced to think about whether your 8 year old is giant, or if your 20something mother is tiny.  Then it pulls up all sorts of other fun things to think about.  You see your 8 year old twirling in the grass and picture your mother twirling, dancing and singing in the very same dress across the stage.  You know your mom has an angelic voice and you can almost hear the applause from the audience.  Almost picture the tears in their eyes as she sings the very same lullaby that she sang to you as a child, So sleep, sleep till the darkness ends, guarded by your angel friends.  Sleep, sleep till the darkness ends, guarded by your angel friends. 

11.  Family is fun.

And smoky skylines can be beautiful.  Even when ash is slowly floating down on you and you're slightly worried that the fires are going to come up over the mountain and engulf the beautiful city you love.

But you keep jumping rope and enjoying the days.  You keep laughing with your parents and siblings because you know that you can't stay forever.  And regardless of where the fires are or are not, soon your airplane will pull up to your terminal and it will be time to board.  So you enjoy, and enjoy, and enjoy.

Then when you are back home, snug on your own couch, you can pour through the pictures and remember the fun.  Remember the love.  Remember the happiness that family brings.   

Scrambled Thoughts V (part 1)

1.  Life goes on.  Even when you're sick.
 

I wasn't actually sick when I took all of the photos in this post.  But I got sick before they were edited, and something about Photoshop made me dry-heave every time I opened it... so picture editing was put on major hold.   The nausea is halfway gone now... Photoshop leaves me alone, but something about all of these Utah pictures still gets to me.  Unfortunate, I tell you.  Nothing like seeing my dad's smiling face in a photo and feeling like running to the bathroom.  But I care too much about these pictures and some of the stories behind them to let them go untold... so, bring on the nausea!

2. It was a good thing we asked the lady toting a $2500 camera with a $1000 lens popped onto it to take our picture.  

Who else would have known that we cared more about the carpet ten feet in front of us than Christ's head?

Here we are... sitting in the very spot where Brian nervously gained courage to grab my hand for the first time over 10 years ago.  I'm pleased with how our lives have gone since, but Brian's face here seems to suggest his feelings might be different.  His thought bubble would probably say something like, I've made a terrible mistake.

3. There is no way to ruin a Lake Powell trip. 

Especially if you're surrounded by some of your very favorite people on the planet.  The kids and I met up with a few old NC friends who have since moved to Utah and Arizona, and camped on the shores of Lake Powell.  Husbands couldn't make it (Brian was already back in NC, Jason couldn't get away from work, and Merrill was only able to spend one of the two nights with us), so we three women braved the camping with our 13 collective children alone.  The kids had a blast reconnecting...

...but I think we women had even more fun catching up on the troubles and triumphs of our hearts.  How terribly sad that I didn't ask one of the kiddos to snap a picture of us.  Oh, how I love them!  They made the whole trip possible... Brooke, packing food for my whole family; Cami coming up with the brilliant idea of meeting at Lake Powell in the first place and securing a campsite for us all.  Thanks, again, ladies!

Miles and Ty hit it off quickly when they discovered their mutual love of a football.  They played...

 ...and played...

...and played and played and played and played and played.

The last day we were there tried hard, but unsuccessfully, to ruin the vacation for us.  The wind picked up and blew our canopy, upside down, into the lake, and stung our faces with the sand it whipped up.  Also, McKenzie almost drowned and I sliced the bottom of my toe clear to the bone while rescuing her.  Kept me awake at night and then gave me nightmares for a month, I tell you (the near drowning part... not the toe part).  I can't decide whether I want to write about it so I don't forget, or if I want to keep it inside my head so I do.  *shiver*  Maybe I'll compromise and jot down the lessons learned instead.  1) Don't let your beginning/moderate swimmer go swimming off after an AWOL rubber duckie that is far away from the shore.  2) If she doesn't respond to you when you ask if she's okay, then she's not.  3) If you think of it, watch where you're stepping so you don't slice your toe open while you're running into the lake.  4) Don't exert all of your energy getting out to her... you'll need some left to get her back.  5) Don't try to calm her once you reach her - it won't work, and you might both just drown if you waste the time.  6) Swimming like a dolphin with her on your back is not the most effective way to carry a panicked swimmer.  After clearing my head I realized I should have wrapped one arm around her and backstroked back to the shore.  Probably slower, but I could have kept breathing that way.  7) Don't forget to thank the Lord in your prayers that night that your friend was watching and caught the problem in enough time.  8) Drowning is so silent.  So very silent.  No splashing, no yelling, no desperate cries for help.  Just silent, panicked thrashing underneath the water.  Watch those precious children...

Funny... all the sudden I don't feel much like continuing.  I think I'll go play a game with my kiddos instead and soak in their energy and happiness.  Especially Kenz.  This episode of Scrambled Thoughts, to be continued...

My Rock

I think I love him.  The thought surprised me a little.  Shocked me a bit that I hadn't really noticed the new feeling creeping into my heart.  But there it was... a glimmer of something that closely resembled other kinds of love in my heart, but spun in a different, unique, new and welcome pattern.  I suppose this is where it all started.  Really started, anyway.  There in the passenger seat of my boyfriend's old, red Honda civic, traveling south on I15 after meeting his family for the first time.

Over the months the glimmer grew stronger until all doubt had been erased and I confidently whispered yes through the lump in my throat and the glowing smile on my face to the most important question ever posed in my life. 

As we drove away from our reception in a golf cart, small wisps of curled hair fell from my bun and tickled my cheeks.  I scooted closer to Brian, my new husband, and he grabbed my hand with an eager excitement as he let out a laugh.  Our eyes locked, and I'm sure the excitement in my eyes mirrored his as we laughed at nothing, or was it everything?, on our way up the hill.   Excitement, of course, for the days and nights to follow, but also for the years and decades after that.  I'd heard what they said, that we could love each other more in ten years than we did in that moment, but it seemed impossible.  My heart was already overwhelmed and overflowing... there was simply no more room.

Yet here we are.

A decade of life behind us.  Or, maybe more accurately, a decade of life under us, around us, in us and with us... enclosing us in a cushion of security and love truly unimaginable to our newlywed hearts.

A decade of discovering each other; of discovering ourselves while with each other.  And still occasionally being surprised by both.

A decade of compromising and, in so doing, realizing that the middle ground is actually often a better choice than was yours anyway.

A decade of building trust.

A decade of sharing hopes and secrets, dreams and insecurities, laughs, tears, responsibilities, ice cream cartons, toothbrush holders and closet space.

A decade of mistakes.  Of forgiving and of being forgiven over and over again.  Of coming to realize that, though the mistakes can hurt, the simple act of forgiveness (on either side) heals you stronger than you were before.  And you begin to trust in the security that - though you wish you didn't need it - you will be forgiven next time, too.   

A decade of looking, every day a little deeper, into the soul of another human being.  Of loving and learning to love every new layer discovered.  And of learning to let another look deeply into you.  This is where the trust comes, for me.  Knowing that my ugliest, rawest side has been exposed, and being met with open, loving arms in response. 

Oh, how this man loves me.  And he is a master at showing me.  There is a phrase sung by Faith Hill in a song called The Way You Love Me that says It's not right, it's not fair what you're missing over there.  Someday I'll find a way to show you just how lucky I am to know you.  Ooooh I love the way you, love the way you love me...  (Now you're singing it in your head, aren't you...)  Brian never seems to tire of offering the same compliment just when I need to hear it; of folding the laundry or doing the dishes without a prompt because he sees that it needs done; of sensing my emotional stability and sending me to my room for a break just before I snap.  If only I were better at offering these traits back to him.

He is my best friend.  Sometimes my only friend.  Always standing by with a gentle hug, a simple solution, a dose of reality, a goofy joke... always.

  Happy tenth anniversary, love.  Thank you for being my rock.  I truly am the luckiest.

Getting Crazier

I know.

It's been a while.

I have a good excuse though.

You see... I've been sleeping a lot.

And eating a lot.

And laying on the couch throwing goldfish crackers at my children a lot.

And watching Curious George a lot.

And Dora.  Too much Dora, actually.  Waaaaaaaaay too much Dora.  After grocery shopping one day, I staggered into the house carrying only the fridge and freezer items, shoved the entire bags into the emptiest shelf I could find, barely made it to the bathroom to empty my stomach contents in an appropriate place, and then collapsed on my bed feeling a bit triumphant for accomplishing a Costco/Kroger run.  I let my head bob along to the victory song in my mind, "I did it, I did it, I did it, Hooray!" and felt like I had finished something as noteworthy as crossing the singing snake river, climbing over marshmallow mountain, and going through the chocolate forest.  It wasn't until after several minutes that I remembered I'd left my 3 year old strapped in his carseat.  

Phew. 

But, I've started to see color in the world again.

And less of the bathroom.

And my children have started to see a bit less of the television and a few more fruits and vegetables.

Miles and I usually get out of our pajamas these days, and the computer screen has lost much of it's nauseating effect.  

But Carson is on day two (and Miles is on day three) of not wearing any underwear, simply because there are no clean pairs in the house.

And all of my children are getting a little too much practice on Mario Kart.

And my bed has not been made for... ... ... ?

But, oh boy, is there excitement in this house.

Mostly from McKenzie.  She was let in on the secret early - around 6 weeks when I started melting into an unrecognizable lump on the couch - so she would know why I was asking for so much help from her.  And she sure stepped up to the plate... perfecting toast and pancakes, picking up the house, keeping the boys happy and entertained, and (my favorite) consistently offering sweet eyes in my direction and loving pats to my belly.  Several times she would whisper in my ear, "I love you, Mom.  I hope everything is going well with the you-know-what."  It was a happy day for her when the news was spread to the rest of the family and she was given the green light to tell whomever she wanted. 

Carson is a little excited, 'but a little not excited because,  you know, babies need to, like, cry a lot, and get taken care of a lot...'

Miles doesn't really get it.  'I not a baby,' he says.  "I know, buddy... the baby is in Mommy's tummy."  'I can hold it?'  "Not yet because it's still growing up a little bit in Mommy's tummy.'  'Oh,' long pause... 'den it will come out?'

Yep.

Waiting for early March...