Three.

My joy :)

I was reading the other day about a friend that just found out she's expecting her third baby (Congrats again, Chelsea!) and I was thinking to myself, "Wow...I can't believe she's going to have three children!"  Then I thought again and said to myself, "Whoa...wait a minute...I'M GOING TO HAVE THREE CHILDREN!"

It's amazing that I forget sometimes that this belly is going to someday turn into a baby, but I do.  The fact is, it never seems real until you bring that empty belly and lump of a baby home from the hospital.  There's no getting prepared for children.  You can prepare your house, but you can never really be prepared for how YOUR little baby is going to change your life. 

The funny thing is, even though I know that and even though I know how much crazier life can be with each additional child...I can't say three is it for me (and if Pack is reading this, he's probably cringing right now).  I just don't know how I can ever say that I'm done and I am a little jealous of the people I know who can "commit" to being DONE.  Very simply, I'm in love with the craziness of this life that we have been given and my children truly feel like a gift...how could I turn down more?

Are the pregnancy hormones making me crazy or what???

Rock me to sleep, Jesus

I'm taking an "Experiencing God" class at my church right now and the topic of quiet time came up tonight.  A consistent quiet time with God is always something that I struggle with and obviously, I'm not alone.  While we were discussing the topic tonight, someone chimed in with the response that we sometimes focus on the "block" of time we put aside for God, somehow thinking that if we put in our time, we can check "Time with God" off the list for the day and go about business as usual thinking that He'll bless that.

We're too busy to think about God during the day and then we're too tired at night.  Sounds like the life of a mom, right?

I know, as a mom of two (soon to be three) young ones, I spend many of my days in survival mode where I am in a constant state of exhaustion and motion and I can't really tell anyone why.  At the end of the day, the house is still a mess, we've done nothing educational, and sometimes haven't even stepped out of the front door.  Those are the days that life happens, I guess and as little time as I might have spent doing scholarly Bible study, those are also the days that I most desire to hear from my Savior.  When I crawl into bed some nights, I think about a passage that I read a long time ago in an awesome book by Brennan Manning.  He says,

The greatest gift any ragamuffin can receive from Jesus is the Abba experience. Jesus says we are to go to God with the unaffected simplicity of a child with his daddy. In  poignant psalm expressing childlike trust in God, David says, 'Enough for me to keep my soul tranquil and quiet like a child in its mother's arms, as content as a child that has been weaned.' (13:12) The little one is not an infant, but a weaned youngster of two or three who had been toddling around exploring the mysteries of his father's flashlight, key chain, and assorted coins left on an end table. The little ragamuffin suddenly wearies and staggers back into his mother's arms. Soothed by her affectionate words as she strokes his hair, the little guy falls asleep, tranquil and quiet.

Jesus invites us to become like a little child, to crawl into Abba's arms and let Him love on us. Though, as Alan Jones notes, "the most difficult part of mature faith is to allow ourselves to be the object of God's delight."

-- Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel, p. 234.

As I'm learning more about God and who He is and what His will is for my life, I'm able to understand that God doesn't want me to pencil Him into my morning.  He wants me to let Him weave himself into the fabric of my everyday (messy, crazy, unorganized) life.  He doesn't see me as a student to be taught, but a child to be loved on.  And if there's anything that I know for sure, it's that as a parent, you cherish those moments that your child crawls into your lap just to be close to you.  We don't get angry when our precious children fall asleep in our arms, so why would God be upset with us when we fall asleep with thoughts of Him?  So when the gears in my mind don't want to stop turning at the end of a busy day, I'm going to let my mind wander into my Jesus' lap and let Him rock me to sleep.

"At day's end, I'm ready for sound sleep; for you, God, put my life back together."   
Psalm 4:8

Top This...

A good night's sleep.

Seriously.  Those have been few and far between lately.  Between my growing belly, my shrinking bladder, and an injured shoulder on my right side, I have not been able to get comfortable at night lately.  I'm fine sleeping on my left side...for a while.  But then, I need to turn.  And there's nowhere to go.  And it stinks.

Then there's my boys.  Penn rarely has ever slept through the night and usually comes in our room at least once only to be sent back to his room.  This usually wakes Jude up who is not so easily directed back to he bed, so he ends up snuggling with us for a while, which brings Penn back in the room because "that's not fair," and so forth.  We sleep in a queen bed (although we REALLY REALLY want a king asap) and the problem is clear as to why four-across is not comfortable.  Add into the mix that Jude INSISTS on sleeping on my right arm (hence the shoulder injury...thanks, kiddo), and I usually wake up into one grumpy mama!

But last night...I slept.  No one woke me up in the middle of the night, my shoulder did not feel as if it was on fire when I laid on it, and I didn't have to go to the bathroom not even once!  Heaven for this tired gal!  I realize that tonight maybe just the opposite, but I am so thankful for one night of peaceful slumber...and these days, you can't top that!

Baby name...CHECK!

I still can't believe it...

Penn (a.k.a.. Daniel Packard V) never had a "girl name."  We knew our first boy would be a namesake for Pack and we'd come up with a nickname, but amazingly, we never discussed girl names at all.  With Jude, after much deliberation, we had his "girl name" all picked out (although we never put a lot of thought into boy names until after we found out his gender).  His girl name would have been Riley Kay.  Fortunately, he ended up being a little boy, so we got to have a little fun with his name and choose something that meant something to us (Jude=a Biblical name with a good song and sounded good with Penn, and Tillman=for Tillman Hall at Clemson University where Pack graduated).  It all worked out because after a while, I decided I didn't really like the name Riley anyway.  It bothered me that Penn had a name with such great family heritage from both sides of our family and the next baby would have had a name that we just liked.  I wanted the name to have a story (and preferably a really good song).  For the record, I don't think there's anything wrong with choosing a name for your children that you simply like the sound of, but I wanted an equal amount of thought and sentiment to go into each of my children's names.  

And BOY did a lot of thought (and arguments and maybe a few tears) go into this one...

Anna Hazel

I had been thinking of the name Anna Hazel since after Jude was born.  Ann is a name that has been used in a lot of girl names in my family (my former middle name was DiANNe, as a matter of fact).  My mom's sister Ann is the eldest of eight children in her family, and although she has no children of her own, she has been like a mom to all of her nieces and nephews.  I've always wanted to be able to honor her by including her name in a little girl's name (if I ever had one).  My Aunt Ann is definitely the female leader in our family and is the best planner/hostess/baby holder you will ever meet.  Anna is going to adore her.

Hazel was my Grandmother on my Dad's side of the family.  She, along with her twin sister, Hallie, kept my twin sister and I from the time we were born until we were able to stay home by ourselves.  They taught us so, so much, and left us with a ton of awesome memories, but I'm always wishing we had paid attention even more.  We spent our time with them serving others, picking whatever vegetables or other foods were in season (WHEREVER they were in season), making crafts and home goods, and visiting relatives that I would probably have never know otherwise.  They definitely had a huge influence on the woman that I am now and I see a lot of both of them in me more and more every day.

The name for my new baby girl may seem ordinary or old fashioned to some, but the women that the name represents were and are truly extraordinary and I can't wait until the day when she understands where her name came from.  I know she'll be proud of it!

Blessings in the Storm

We are finally home from a really exciting, but really exhausting vacation.  We combined a birthday trip for the two of us (which I will blog about later) with a trip home to visit family and BOY was it an eventful week!  Aside from the fun things we had planned, we (along with the rest of the East Coast) dealt with an earthquake at the beginning of last week (whose epicenter was about 30 miles outside of our home) and a hurricane toward the end.

When we left Virginia last Friday (the 19th), we had no idea of what we would be missing...and I'm so thankful for so many things.  I was thankful that the earthquake wasn't more powerful than a 5.8, thankful that no one I know was hurt, and most importantly, thankful that we weren't home (because Pack would have been on the road and I would have been home with the boys...FREAKING OUT!).  And an earthquake is a scary thing, not even taking into consideration all the aftershocks that have continued to happen.  The scary part for us was that we had no idea if anything inside our house was damaged.  We would have to wait to get home to find out (not a thing was out of place, by the way...thankful).

And then there was Irene...

When we left Virginia, we knew there was a tropical storm in the ocean and we knew it was probably going to make landfall, but we figured it would probably strike the coastal areas (of which we are not), so we didn't make a lot of serious preparations before we left.  Just the normal security type stuff.  Then, while we were in San Francisco, we learned that Virginia was going to be pretty hard hit and all my friends in Midlothian were making emergency preparations.  We were thankful once again that we weren't home and that our boys would be safe in South Carolina while we were in hurricane-free California.  I knew we had a lot of trees around our home, but there wasn't a whole lot we could do about it, so we just didn't dwell on the worst case scenario and spend the time sightseeing and enjoying our time.  Then, on Saturday my next-door-neighbor called and I knew it must be bad news.  They were in the thick of the storm and called to let us know that a tree from their yard had fallen onto Pack's work truck....which was parked in the driveway next to the house.  They couldn't be sure there wasn't any damage done to the house itself, so once again, we had to just wait it out and see.

Well, we got home today and once again, we were thankful.  The tree that fell crushed the windshield of Pack's truck, but there was hardly any damage anywhere else on the truck.  Thankful.  Our house was unscathed (minus the yard, which is a wreck).  Thankful.  We have awesome neighbors that pulled out their chainsaw and went to town on the tree with Pack to make sure it was going to be light enough to move safely.  Thankful.  About five other men (three of which, we hardly even know), spent part of their Monday afternoon, lifting the giant walnut tree off of the truck while I backed it out the driveway.  Super-thankful.  Although the windshield was shattered, there was no water damage to any of Pack's things inside the cab.  Pack was thankful.  And the tree itself was VERY close to our house.  If we had been home, the family van would have probably been crushed instead.  If the tree had rolled off the truck, or fallen just a few inches in other directions, there would probably have been damage to the house.  As we cleaned up the yard and dragged branches and limbs to the curb, we couldn't complain about a thing.  We. just. felt. THANKFUL.  Thankful and glad to be home.

Oh, and we never liked that walnut tree anyway;)

TIMBER!!!

That was close...

The silver bullet saved the house!

The damage.  Could be worse!

Little Penn was working hard.  Jude was not interested.

Blowing sawdust out of the driveway.  Don't worry it's battery operated:)

 

Little Kicks...

So, this is how I imagine Little Bean in my belly (sans the over-permed hair and the bad outfit).  I'm still amazed that I can already feel this baby move!  I'm 15 weeks (just this Tuesday) and last night I felt him (or her) moving so strongly that it startled me.  Those little one or two inch legs are pretty powerful.  I actually was able to feel the kicks with my hand and see them a bit.  If I hadn't made Pack check it out, I would have thought it was in my imagination, but he felt it too and it (of course) freaked him out.  Something about there being a living, growing baby inside another person's body fascinates him and terrifies him all at the same time.  It's pretty funny.

This is where my pregnancies become so real to me.  I start daydreaming more and more about holding that sweet baby in my arms.  I'm so excited.  It will be another month before I find out what we're having, but I really haven't been thinking about that as much lately.  I think most people assume that I'm dying for a girl (and I'd be lying if I said I don't drool over little newborn baby girl clothes), but like I've told some friends recently, "How could I not want another boy after the two sweet, cutie-pies that I've already got?"  Seriously.  These boys are my heart and as much as would like to think I'd be a great Mama to a little girl, I KNOW I was meant to bring up boys.  What a messy/busy/active/loud JOY they are.  I'm so thankful.

I'm also getting back into my pregnancy groove (thank you second trimester!).  I've got more energy, the worst symptoms are practically gone, and I'm looking more and more like a pregnant lady.  As much as my first trimester tried to convince me that this baby was going to be "it," I'm starting to dig being pregnant again.  And if I completely ignore the scale (and the fact that Penn and Jude keep telling me that the baby feels "squishy"), I feel pretty awesome.

So here's to the remaining 25 (or so) weeks.  I'm finally up for the challenge:)

What Works for Us...right now

A few weeks ago, I wrote this post, kind of dictating the struggle we were going through with Penn's current stage.  After I wrote it, I really became conscious of what kinds of things I would say and do to try and get Penn to cooperate when we were in a tense situation.  I thought I would share with you, a few things from my arsenal that have worked (although they may not work every time).

This first strategy is something that I've been doing a lot lately.  I read about this idea on a blog months ago (but I don't remember which one).  I can't help but think this would be beneficial for a lot of age groups.  As a matter of fact, if I were still teaching fifth grade, I could see myself saying this a lot.  It's just four simple words:  "Let's try that again."  What I realized is that children (and adults even) sometime say the first thing that comes to their mind.  When my husband asks me if I can iron his clothes for work, my whole body wants to say, "No!"  But I know he needs clean, neat clothes to wear to work and as much as I hate ironing, I do it because I want him to feel confident at work.  But as an adult, I usually  know how to bite my tongue an think about things before I share them (as Pack has told me, rightfully so..."Kimberly, you don't always have to say EVERTHING that's on your mind.")  On the same note, when I ask Penn to pick up the blueberries off the kitchen floor that fell down there while he was eating, his first instinct is to tell me "No, you can do it."  Why yes I can (and probably faster and better), but that doesn't teach a lot of responsibility, does it?  When I say, "Let's try that again," it really helps him rethink the situation and make the decision on his own to do the right thing.  Most times, that's all it takes.

There are times when the above strategy doesn't work.  My next attempt is usually this quick question.  "Are you going to choose to obey Mommy or to disobey by not doing what I've asked you?"  It's amazing that he's old enough to understand these words, but what also impresses me is that every single time, he wants to obey.  He wants to follow the rules.  Whether it's cleaning his room or going to time out when he's sent, by giving him the chance to think about consciously breaking the rules (and getting consequences), this question will usually end whatever conflict has started.  It also helps to keep me cool-headed in a tense situation.

My boy still hates to clean.  Really hates it.  So in that situation, I have started following the advice of another friend.  Anything that has not been picked up in a reasonable amount of time goes in a trash bag.  The trash bag goes in the garage.  After a week (or so), I'll give him another chance to take the toys out of the trash bag and put them where they belong.  If they don't end up where they supposed to go the second time around, they will get trashed or donated.  Penn MIGHT get his Mobigo back today...

The same friend who suggested the above strategy, also told me months ago about something else that she does when her kids are fighting over toys.  It works beautifully.  It's called "toy time-out."  When Penn and Jude are fighting over a toy, I don't try to figure out who had it first.  I take it away and put it in a "spot" until they agree to share or take turns.  They will almost always choose to share rather than not have the toy at all.

When all else fails...

Penn is finally old enough to know what it means when I tell him to go to his room and lay on his bed (or if we are in public, I tell him we're going to the car to sit).  I try to save this one for when nothing else seems to work because I want it to have impact.  This sometimes results in him screaming, crying, growling, or whatever else he might think would let me know how he really feels.  As awful as these times are, I just remind him that it's okay to be mad at mommy or mad at his behavior, but he still has to have consequences.  When something doesn't go my way, I get furious.  Why do we adults think it's not acceptable for kids to get upset  either?  After I let him get some screaming out, I tell him to stop whenever he feels like talking and we can discuss.  I never prompt this, but he almost always follows the crying with, "I'm sorry for breaking the rules, Mommy."  And I always forgive him (even though it's hard to let go).  And then there's usually a nap around the corner...all that crying really can wear a boy out;)

It's amazing the perspective that can change with some sleep.  I have even found that when I can't seem to pull it together to stay calm enough to try anything that I mentioned above, it's usually because I'm the one that needs some sleep!  Keeping that in mind, really changes my outlook. 

Now I'm going to put a disclaimer out there and tell you that this hasn't solved every discipline problem we've had and good parenting, is all about learning what works best for you and your family.  I also hope that some of my mom friends that have struggled with not knowing how to discipline their preschoolers find something here that will work for them (or if you've tried any of these, please share your experience). Please remember, although I'm not up for a parenting debate (it's hard enough being a parent without having to defend every decision that you make), I'm always open to new advice, so please share YOUR strategies for dealing with conflicts with your kiddos also.  It never hurts to share what works...it may help someone else!