Frankly Pregnant

Pregnancy websites are a dime a dozen, but this one is fun. Probably because it reminds me that my experience is normal, greasy hair and all. And boy is it greasy. And I'm not even skipping washing it anymore.

Tomorrow I reach my second trimester, at least by my ob/midwife group's standards. Some books say that you don't get there until after week 14, but what do they know? I'm going by week 12, and hoping for the best. I don't expect the all-the-time sickness to completely subside tomorrow, but here's hoping that relief is on the way. Goodbye, nausea. Bring on the snoring, leg cramps, and ridiculous weight gain. I'm ready to be large and in charge.

And speaking of large, one thing I found particularly amusing this time around was the New OB packet the midwife gave me at my first appointment. This is the third one I've gotten from the group, and the three have each contained similar items: a packet of things to eat, information on genetic screening (which I skip, by the way), FAQs about the practice and hospital, two recent issues of pregnancy magazines, and, my personal favorite, a copy of a pregnancy catalog called The Bump. Why is it my favorite, you ask? Because a "bump" just sounds so cute. A bump is what I had most of the way through my pregnancy with Kathryn. A bump is what I already have now, about the size of my 18-week "bump" with Kathryn. A bump just doesn't sum up pregnancy. A mound is more like it. Yes, I am pregnant. And frankly, I expect a mound before the end of the next 28 weeks.

December

Did I mention that we got a Christmas tree? Probably not, since the fact that it's December has all but slipped my mind lately, except for the hope that when I leave the first trimester later this month I'll leave with it my all-the-time-sickness. But back to the tree. We got one! And it's one of the few "strong scents" that is completely amenable to me in this season of life.




Kathryn enjoyed decorating the tree with Mom and Dad after Jonathan was in bed. Perhaps he'll get to help next year, but for now we're proud that he has yet to touch the tree, even though it is ball-laden. Balls just happen to be, you know, his most favorite things.

One of the best parts of having a 3-year-old around for tree decorating is seeing them carefully deciding where to put each ornament, only to put most of them in the same general area and usually upstaging others. Like the white ball and snowflake below.


She keeps asking when Christmas is, and I keep asking if she remembers why we celebrate it. We're not there yet, but we're working on it.

Taste and See

God is kind. And so are my friends. And I know their kindness to me is a result of the Lord's gracious work in their hearts, and this makes me glad.

I have not cooked in several days. Friends have brought meals and encouragement, when what I deserve is a slap on the wrist for my complaining spirit. But God is a gracious judge, and he gives us better than we deserve. I had a chance to think about this a lot last night when Mike and I were watching our brother Thabiti in the most recent of 3 Christian-Muslim dialogues that have happened in Dubai. You can see the whole thing here, or borrow the DVDs from us when we're finished. It's well worth your time. God is full of mercy and grace for his children, and I have experienced that in large and small ways over the past year especially, and over the past couple of months in my sickness. What a joy to taste and see that the Lord is good!

Better Than I Deserve

If you've ever heard of C.J. Mahaney, then perhaps you know of his discipline of always answering a certain question the same way. When asked how he is, he always answers, "I'm better than I deserve." And he doesn't say it because he's a self-hater. He doesn't say it because he's proud, either. You see, I met him once, and he's not proud. I was sitting in Mark Dever's study with Mike while C.J. and Mark were on the other side of the room hanging out, and C.J. came over and introduced himself to me. He shook my hand. "We haven't met," he said. "I'm C.J. I'm a fan of your husband." Of course you're C.J.! I've read all of your wife's books...I've read all of your books! You're C.J.!

But this isn't about C.J., or his humility, or his book Humility. This is about the God who C.J. knows has given him better than he deserves.

I've caught myself so quick to complain over the past several weeks, and to complain over the blessing of bearing another child. This should not be! If I am sick, is that out of God's sovereign reach? Will not he, who spared not his own Son, be gracious to me? And he has been! He has given me his Son, but he has not stopped there -- he daily sustains my faith and life. And his grace abounds. It abounds in a husband who helps with the children, in friends who deliver dinner, in church members who lend maternity clothes and in those who ask to run errands for me. Where, oh where, does my grumbling come from? Oh, that Jesus would return and finally deliver me from my wickedness!

The Leaves Leave

A couple of times this time of year, a Dr. Suess-looking machine comes around and vacuums the leaves we have diligently raked into giant piles on the street. Our scheduled leaf pickup was for 2 Mondays ago, so Kathryn has been waiting and waiting for the machine to arrive, especially after having driven by it on other streets of late.

Finally, we heard it creeping down the street this morning. We set up some chairs by the window and the kids waited in deep anticipation. Nevermind Jonathan's mismatched socks here...at least he wasn't still in his PJs like his sister (and mom) were.


Finally, it's here!!!


The kids were really intrigued by the process. I took this picture before the workers stopped for a 10-minute smoking break in front of my kids, and before one of them littered the leaf pile with a banana peel, a soda can, and a candy bar wrapper. Oh, and before the machine got clogged and they had to open it and rake a bunch of leaves back onto the pile before starting over.


There are more photos, but you get the idea. Besides, I should stop posting here and get Kathryn dressed, right?

Worst Doctor Appointment Ever...at least for J

The whole first 2 years of Kathryn's life were filled with horrendous doctors appointments. I was at a terrible Pediatrician's office, which shall go unnamed here. Since I was a first time mom, I thought it was normal for kids to hate their doctor and cry as soon as they approached the building. Serendipitously, I mean providentially, I was able to get the kids in to a practice that was done accepting new patients when Jonathan was born since we had a newborn. We've been happy there since, and we're all seen by the same family doctor, which I like.

Today was a nightmare, though it wasn't the doctor's fault. I still love her, which says a lot because my feelings after the bad appointments of Kathryn's first two years were quite different. Still, a good appointment wasn't in the cards today. Jonathan's been wheezing since Saturday night, which seems to happen every time he gets any kind of cold. The inhaler has helped, but I purposefully skipped it before the appointment (which was his scheduled 15 month one) so that the doctor could hear the wheezing and assure me that it was fine for me to continue to treat him at home. She didn't like the sound of it and wanted him to have a nebulizer before we left the office. Now, the inhaler we use at home takes a minute of holding him down and listening to him cry. The neb took 15 minutes of him headbutting me, trying to get away, crying, and looking at me like I was some kind of traitor. But that wasn't the worst of it.

You see, Kathryn finally likes going to the doctor, especially when the appointments are for someone else. What she didn't know, and what I didn't know, is that she was going to end up getting a vaccination today. About a month ago, Jonathan and I were vaccinated for H1N1, but we skipped Kathryn's because the nurse was unwilling at the time to give her the shot, and I was unwilling to give her the mist since I hadn't been vaccinated yet and my midwife said I should stay away from anyone who got the mist for 48 hours. Unbeknown to me, our doctor's office had received another shipment, and the doctor was willing to give her the shot instead of the mist.

The nurse left and came back with three needles -- 2 for J and one for K. Both kids were crying because they knew what was coming, and the nurse mixed the needles up and had to leave to sort it out. The kids continued to cry on my lap, with cold bare legs, waiting for their doom. I wanted to cry too, but mostly I wanted to vomit because it smelled funny in there and well, it just doesn't take much to make me vomit these days.

In the end, we made it home. I gave Kathryn a few M&Ms out of mommy-guilt for having not pre-warned her about the shot, and I gave Jonathan a nap with his favorite blanket. I decided that I could have a few M&Ms too, and we're all feeling a little bit better now.

What's Worse Than a Man Cold?

I've been known to tease my husband for his "man colds" when he gets them. You know the man cold. They're worse than any strain a woman can catch. They're apparently worse than labor. They're completely debilitating. Well, not completely. Men with such man colds can go to work and church and stuff, but they have to mention the cold, blow their noses loudly, etc., at home. But I will tease him no more.

You see, what's utterly worse than a man cold is a 3-year-old cold. At least one that is hosted by a germ-a-mess-a-phobe. Their noses can't just run and be wiped off -- they have to squeal, "My nose! My nose!" like their noses are about to fall off or something. And once instructed to get a tissue, they want to use it and give it to a parent, because it's gross! Who wants to throw away a gross tissue?

Not that we know any 3-year-old germamessaphobes personally. I'm just saying, one of those with a cold would be way worse than a man with one.