Heard at Our House

We thought he had years. We don't. She has announced it.

"Daddy's No Funny"

Abigail was asking for YouTube time with her daddy as that is the only time she really gets YouTube. But Chris was washing dishes. He responded by saying she would need to wait.

She fussed.

He made funny noises.

"No funny," was her reply.

"Yes that was funny," he said.

"NO funny, Daddy."

What could he say?

On the Adoption Front

Exciting things are happening here!

We formally applied at the end of December and received a packed of "back-up" documentation. This month we have been working on that.

• Signing so many papers I started to believe buying a house! Four more sheets left!
• Requesting background checks.
• Gathering financial records from the last 10 years.
• Finding the proof we were born and married. (We're still waiting for Abigail's birth certificate.)

When Bethany gets this packet we start the Home Study process. Three visits with a person from Bethany, two at their offices with one here sandwiched between. This is when the hard questions are asked. What race are you willing to accept? Though that one we have resolved. What disabilities are you willing to consider? What drug exposure are you willing to look at? How much risk are you willing to consider when it comes to the birthfather? And I am sure there are even more we haven't thought about.

But we are praying and I know God has the right child picked out for our family. I invite you to pray along with us and for this process.

Birds in Holly

Outside my living room window lives a holly bush. Without red berries, I know it is a male holly bush. Strong branches shielding birds from the elements, dark green leaves reflecting the condition of the sky. Going from a dark grey-green on overcast days to a brilliant shining green on sunny days.

As summer turned to fall and fall to winter, I have been spending more and more time studying that holly bush. After all it is there in the morning as I have my quiet time snuggled on the couch listening for God's voice and waiting for the heat to kick on. And again in the afternoon when I sit down to read or nap. In all my studying, God has spoken to me through that holly bush. No, not in the burning bush, "Let my people go," sort of way, but in His small still voice He has used that holly bush to turn my heart to Him.

You see, I had a decision to make. Would I be the tree or the birds?

The birds find rest and shelter in the boughs of the bush. They are entirely content to wait out the wind or bask in the warmth of the sun. They leave the safety of their home only for short flitting moments to find food.

Or the holly who is firmly rooted, determined to grow and even flourish where it is planted. It flexes and grows stronger in the wind, gives to the needy, and shines in the light of the sun. The holly is exposed, open, and giving.

I want to be the holly. I know I have spent plenty of time being the birds wanting to hide under the protective wings of Christ. But lately I am annoying even my self by insisting to stay there. I must come out from under the wings to reflect the sun and I certainly can't stay a baby chick hiding from storms and flitting about frazzled forever. I want this year to grow--grafted into the vine. In this place, with arms lifted high to shine in my Father's glory, I want to be the holly.

I'm curious. What about you all? Here at the end of January? What are the goals you made for yourself this year?

Changes

You know I thought about moving my blog. Thought and thought and thought. I even planned it. To the point of creating a new blog. Settled on a template, titled it, even set up the sidebars. I had posts all planned out. A serious blog. Encouraging for my readers. Convicting and funny. A picture of the life of a meditative, thoughtful, intentional woman, wife, and mother.

But I couldn't bring myself to say good-bye to this blog. With all my thoughts and concerns, I couldn't make the break. I think I just needed to plan it, to say that if I wanted I could do it. But I find my heart is here. I started this blog as a way to keep family and friends informed on Abigail's development so I wouldn't have to spend all my time talking about Abigail. Perhaps, OK, admittedly, I was having real issues with becoming a stay-at-home mom and this was a reaction against that.

I don't write for that reason anymore. I am keeping this blog, not out of a reaction to a bad reaction to career changes, but because I appreciate Abigail and I want to honor her. She has been such an agent of change in my life. I created this blog "because of Abigail" and rather than thinking about the narrowness of focus implied in the title, I chose to celebrate the way this blog brought sanity and community to my life.

My Mom

Today she is home from work.
Today she is recovering from carpal tunnel surgery.
Today she is caring for my father has he cares for his mother.
Today she is thinking about the choices her children are making about their families.
Today she is quilting.
Today she is worrying about her sick grandchild.
Today she is waiting on "Happy Birthday" phone calls from her family.
Today she is. . .

Today is my mom's birthday. And as she walks through this day I hope amid the ever present chatter in a woman's mind, she will hear the voices of those who love her tell her so. I hope she will believe the voices of those who love her. I hope that in all that she is called to do today that she will count it a good birthday.

I love my mom.

Three Word Phrases

One of the questions I had to answer for Abigail's second year check-up was "Does she speak in three word phrases?"

I had to think about it! At the time and under pressure I could only think of one three word phase.

Yes, I answered the nurse close to tears the voice in my head yelled:
She is behind and you are a terrible mother!

And of course at the doctor's office, Abigail forgets all of the words she knows. Well, all except the No! All done! scream of toddler only frightened enough to be furious with a stranger checking her out. But it is a three word phrase, and I am relieve that I didn't lie to the nurse.

Once home, Abigail's normal chattiness returned and with Christmas a whole slew of three word phrases. Most begin with No!

My do it.

Daddy, sit down.

Mama, milk pwease.

Hot chocolate, Mommy.

No shoot me. When the NERF dart guns are wielded.
No tickle me.
No, my button.
No, pants on. Revised for other articles of clothing whether on or off.
No, my boogies. Referring to the sock lint stuck between her toes.

Irritable Bowel

Chris says we have Irritable Bowel Syndrome in our house.

Abigail's bowel irritates us all.

Now I realize this needs some explanation. You see we are trapped in a terrible cycle. When Abigail was much younger she got constipated and when she finally went it hurt. No problem, when she gets over the constipation with lots of pear juice, oatmeal, and other fiber, the pain will go away and she will be a regular as clockwork. Going joyfully.

Not my girl. She remembered the pain and now she chooses constipation. Yes, chooses it. She hides herself in various corners in order to sweat through the urge to go and hold it. For days. At least 48 hours, and somewhere before we hit the 72 hour mark the Irritable Bowel hits. Struggling to win the battle against her own biological mechanisms, prune juice (we graduated to the potent stuff), and fiber, she becomes cranky, clingy, and stinky.

Of course when she finally resigns herself to the inevitable, it hurts. And the cycle begins again: she is pleasant, for the next 66 or so hours. Then the strike of Irritable Bowel.

Loooong Time

OK, I know. I haven't posted for a while. A long while. But I have a perfectly bizarre and convoluted reason behind not posting. And I want to share it with you all just so we can get caught up. I can spew my craziness all over the Internet and be free of it once and for all. You can read my craziness and know better how to pray for my husband and my child.

Here goes.

Crazy Christmas

I decided to make my sister's Christmas present right around, well, Christmas. So in the midst of an already busy time of year I frenetically found myself crocheting a purse. A cute purse. One I am proud of. But the couch where I spent all of the Saturday and Sunday before Christmas still hasn't recovered. Is this the reason I haven't posted? No, it just provides some background.

100

At about this time, I become intensely aware of the number of posts I have composed since beginning. A pitifully small number for the amount of time I have been a blogger if I can even call myself that. But the counter at the time said 95. Only five away from 100.

Was it my own sentimentality or the blogosphere's peer pressure that demanded a celebration at 100? And really can a blogosphere really pressure me into anything? Knowing my lack of sentiment it had to be that voice living in my head that says if another woman did it surely I must as well.

You know the comparison game, if Sally had a big bash for 30 of her toddler's closest friends. I would be an inferior mother if I didn't do the same for my toddler. That kind of pressure. Really how would I know how to behave if it weren't for other women to compare myself to? And the awful fear that I will always be inferior?

So with an unreasoning need to find some way to celebrate 100 posts and Christmas looming with an incomplete gift, I may have slacked off. Or I just decided to decide on a 100 post celebration later and in order to put off the decision I had to stop posting.

Material

Christmas ended with an incredible amount of post material and even more pictures. Posts about what the season was like for us in this new place. Abigail's advent excitement and her prayers thanking Jesus for coming. The wonderful insanity of spending Christmas day in four different houses.

But I still had not decided on a 100 post celebration and I became totally immersed in another crochet project that needed finished by my brother-in-law's wedding on the 12th of January. So I continued to decide not to decide. And of course not posting was integral to my plan.

Adoption

Still more post material. Shopping the day after Christmas. Sending in the first of our adoption paperwork. Snow days and sled riding. Abigail cuteness and crocheting madness.

But I still had not decided on a 100 post celebration (see I am crazy) and I started thinking about this child who will be coming into our home through adoption. Will he or she have enough belonging issues without having a mother whose blog is titled after not only the first child but the biological child? Perhaps that will not look good to birth mothers considering families for their children? Maybe having a blog will mean we will never be chosen!

Maybe I need to change my blog to something less Abigail and more inclusive of the others in the family even though there is far more me in everything here than Abigail. And what does that say to her? You were important, however now it is more important that we acquire a brother or sister for you. What kind of belonging issues will that give her? And do I really want to start over? Though that may solve my 100 post celebration issues. What will happen to all of this material? Isn't there a way to add tabs at the top to feature each of us?

Real Insanity

Today. No posts for weeks with too much to say now. How late into the New Year can one post about Christmas anyway? And now I feel guilty. I have let down my readership! How will you ever forgive me? Will you ever come back? What if you are gone for good and my blog is forever rejected? (An argument for a new blog anyway.) How will I live with myself in your disappointment and rejection? Oh and what am I going to do in two posts when I hit 100? And if my posting inconsistency isn't enough to drive you away what will you do when you read this and find that I really am not all together?

A decision has to be made. . .

Here I will stay. Confessing my incredible insecurity and weakness and unreasoning fear of your judgment. I had to write it all out. Tell you all about it. Somehow insecurity and fear lose their power over me when I share them with others especially those my insecurity and fear most effect. (Poor Chris hears about them daily.)

I hope you continue to visit. I do want to share our Christmas with you all the more precious with a two year old involved. My brother-in-law's wedding was incredible and sometime I want to sit and find the words to share the impact it had on me. Taking Abigail to my parent's farm to sled ride was an adventure worth giving words to. The struggle to become good at a hobby, not a struggle I have ever before been willing to endure, and the joy at creating a piece of clothing from string using a hook leaves me bursting with the desire to share what I've learned. And this journey in and through adoption needs to be shared and saved with whoever God has for us, even if it is on a blog named for Abigail.

I still haven't decided on a 100 post celebration. Perhaps 100 will pass without balloons and confetti, quietly. I'm OK with that too, finally.