celebrating noah

Can you believe we are halfway through May already ? And at the end of next month we'll be halfway through the year ? Time needs to slow down already.

Because how is it that my eighth baby just turned double digits ???

It just doesn't seem possible. In my mind, Noah should have just turned five. Six at most. But ten ???

I don't know how that happened. I just blinked and a decade slipped by.

I remember when I was ten... I was still young enough to lie awake every night the week before my birthday, dreaming of the presents I would get. Each day leading up to my birthday seemed to craaawwwwlll by, and as the big day approached my excitement levels were through the roof.

That's pretty much how things felt around here during the last week of April. I think Noah reminded us every day for two weeks how close his tenth birthday was. "NINE more days, Mama !" he would proudly proclaim, and then , "EIGHT AND A HALF more days!!" and so on until May 5th finally got here. He told me for weeks that all he wanted for his birthday was a bike and a nerf gun.

He told me that probably a hundred times a day for at least 30 days.

And then sometime between the day before his birthday and the evening of his tenth birthday, he forgot that he asked for a bike.


He opened sour skittles and new basketball shoes and an airplane book and a nerf gun and an action figure and some gummy worms ... and he was as happy as could be.

He squeezed his nerf gun and thanked us profusely, he hugged Grammi and thanked her for the cool book, and while he was doing so, Jonathan quietly wheeled the birthday bike in.

Noah turned around and ...

... so yeah, he was pretty happy.

He kept saying, "I totally forgot I asked for a bike !" over and over, and that mile wide grin never left his face.

Yay for Craigslist and yay for a daddy who drove to Vancouver to make it all happen. (And yay for big sissy Kenzie who needed to be dropped off at the airport, totally validating the two hour drive ;))

The next set of pictures was actually taken the day before Noah's birthday. When we asked him what kind of party he wanted, he said he just wanted ALL of his family there - meaning Jason and Naomi and the kids, and Josiah and Monique and Macie, and Mackenzie and Grammi and the rest of us. It took a small miracle to make that happen ... but between work schedules and sick kids and pre-planned trips, we somehow managed to all get together on Sunday after church.

Noah's requested birthday meal was stir-fry and wontons ... and a gummy worm cake.

I'm so proud of this boy. So blessed that at ten years old, his idea of the ultimate birthday party is being surrounded by his family, enjoying an afternoon together, and calling it good.

And if he gets a bike thrown in with all of that, it's the icing on the cake.

Happy birthday, Noah Stephen . You're the sweetest ten year old we know. xo

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New Born Baby

this fabulous season ahead

It's Tuesday, the day after my last baby turned one. I was all prepared to be teary eyed and emotional for that momentous occasion, but life would not slow down for half a second to allow it. And that's probably a good thing... I have been dreading the feeling of "this is the LAST ---" fill-in-the-blank for the past few weeks. I organized Hayden's tub of clothes the other day and gulped back sobs - "this is the LAST time I will put away newborn clothes" - but then someone yelled from downstairs that Lily was having a meltdown and needed me, and the tears were kept at bay. My typically spunky four year old has been under the weather for a week, along with several siblings and myself, and life has consisted of endless nose wiping, appropriate-aged tylenol dosing, and lots and lots of snuggling and soothing. No time for contemplating seasons of life like child-bearing, that are suddenly changing and probably won't return.

So while I quickly shift topics here, lest I dissolve into a puddle of snot and tears on the keyboard, I will talk about this fabulous season ...

The thing about seasons is - I love each one of them. And depending on which season we are currently enjoying, I will always have a different answer for "what's your favorite one ?" .

If it's summer time, you can bet your bottom dollar I will say summer is my favorite. Cool sticky popsicles on a hot summer day, playing in the pool, driving to the beach, late summer nights when the sun doesn't set til ten, picnics on blankets at the park, endless evenings grilling hamburgers and hot dogs and vegetable shish-kabobs, bike rides and long walks and watermelon and corn on the cob and blackberries and peaches and running in the sprinkler and fourth of July fireworks and CAMPING !!! and s'mores and a million other things to enjoy - I love summer.

And I could say the same about fall, because when September rolls around, fall is my absolute favorite season. The changing leaves, the crisp cool nights, apple pies and pumpkin pies and cozy sweaters and woolly scarves, trick-or-treating and trips to the pumpkin patch, delicious soups simmering all day, Thanksgiving and family and roasted turkey and caramel apples and candy corn and GOURDS (for the love of gourds !!) and anything and everything to do with autumn - I love it all.

But come December I am completely renouncing my love for anything autumnal ... because winter is my favorite. Snowflakes and snowmen and bright cheery fires in the fireplace (is anyone else humming Olaf's song right about now ??) and mittens and crocheted caps, warm casseroles at the end of a blustery day, gingerbread and candy canes and hot cocoa, Christmas bazaars and Bing Crosby and holly and wreaths, singing carols around the piano and singing them again at church, jingle bells and sleigh rides and presents underneath the tree, stringing popcorn and decorating cookies and celebrating the birth of our incredible Savior, Christmas crackers and New Years resolutions and dark cold mornings under heavy colorful quilts, doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles...  well anyhow, you get the point. I love winter.


And then we get to spring...

... bright blue skies and big fluffy clouds and orchards and wild honey and bright red tomatoes and flowers and birds singing and bulbs bursting and longer days and warm breezes and kites flying and picnics and bike rides and baby lambs and roses and daffodils and STRAWBERRIES and dining al fresco and evening walks and lemonade stands and sleeping with the windows open and star gazing and dandelions and lawn mowers humming once again and Jim's Fruit Stand.

Yes, you read that right. Jim's Fruit Stand.



Corvallis's best kept little secret - or at least someone was keeping it from me all these years. Because until just a few weeks ago I was (tragically) buying either cruddy produce that had a shelf life of 1.5 days at best, or spending a fortune on the natural grocers store, where a large family could go broke on asparagus alone.

And then Sam decided to try to earn Jim's business (my husband does credit card processing if you're interested) and the clouds parted and the heavens opened, and lo and behold there was fruit. And vegetables. All organic and grown locally and priced lower than any store in town. 

Hello, spring.

Apparently the woman who runs Jim's goes to town once a week and checks all the produce prices at our stores... and then goes back to their place and marks everything lower.

Sam explained all of this to me a few weeks ago, and for some reason it took me that long to go check things out. After stocking our fridge full of fresh avocados, apples, tomatoes, carrots, beets, lettuce, and red potatoes ($3.50 for a fifteen pound bag !!!) and then enjoying all of that yumminess for the past week - at a fraction of the cost of organic produce in town - I can confidently say we are hooked.

And Belinda, if you're reading this, thank you for letting our small gaggle of children run happily through your aisles for half an hour. Miss Lily, especially- I'm pretty sure she ate 27 pretzels in the taste testing room....and probably double dipped each time.

Actually I think that's a lollipop she's holding in the photo above. So if the sweet onion pesto sample bowl tasted a little bit like sour raspberry after we left... blame it on my tenth child. The one with the sassy swing to her braids , who was cheerfully touching every bless-ed piece of produce in the store.

I gave each of my kids $1.50 in quarters- change I've been pilfering from Sam's pockets over the course of several months for such a time as this. I told them to pick whatever their little hearts desired - a juicy plum, a succulent box of strawberries, a tasty peach. The sky was the limit.

They scoured the aisles and searched each bin for that perfect piece of goodness... at one point Jackson came up to me with the sweetest look on his face, his dimple etched deeply in his freckle-splattered face. "Mama," he pleaded up at me, batting those mile-long eyelashes, "may we have a bit more change from the change jar in the van ? Please ??"

I should have suspected something when I noticed that dimple, but I was still drooling over a crate of avocados, imagining the wonderful guacamole that it would yield that afternoon. "Sure, sweetie," I smiled, and turned back to my bounty.

Five minutes later I saw six happy Ricelets devouring what looked to be ten pounds of GUMMI BEARS at the rate of thirteen per minute.

Jim aint no dummy. I think what he makes per gummy bear more than makes up for any loss on beets and asparagus, and if I heard correctly, my kids plopped down $18.50 in hard earned quarters for that bag of ... sugar.

One of my little angels tried to say something about them being "fruit colored" ... I guess I should have specified that their treats were to be healthy and organic before I doled out the cash.

Oh well, at least they saved a little leftover for this...

...yippee.

So anyway.... we had fun. And at least one little person made a smart choice when it came to picking out his prize....

Grammi and I were pleased us punch with our choices as well... we spent the afternoon baking beets and carrots and mashing avocados for guac, and for dinner I served a pile of homemade potato salad alongside our sandwiches. Yum.

************

.. .and now I am back home to finish this post ~ we just returned from our littlest one's first birthday party at the park and I am pooped. I'm not ashamed to admit that this old mom just doesn't have enough party in her to last past ten o'clock these days, and it's almost that time now.

I had a nice long paragraph in mind that was going to tie all the thoughts in this post together with a big lovely bow ... something along the lines of "life has its seasons too".... but I'll make it quick, as I'm fading fast.

There is a time for everything in life. A time to bear children and watch them grow, a time for first birthdays and first steps and first teeth... and a time for lasts as well. But just like the seasons of the year, each one of life's seasons hold treasures for us to enjoy... each season uniquely different and beautiful in its time.

I've lived through many seasons in my forty-six years and cherished them all - and I can't help but smile at the thought of the season that lies before me, the one that is yet to be explored : this fabulous season ahead.

God bless, and good night :)

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New Born Baby

ONE

Happy first birthday to this sweet little guy...

... we say it every single baby, and it's always true: we've never loved a baby as much as you :)

We love you, Hayden Patrick !!!

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New Born Baby

this glorious calling

Tomorrow is one of my favorite days of the year... Mother's Day.

This time last year - the day before Mother's Day - I was about to do my very favorite thing in life : give birth.

My water broke on the morning of May 11th, but Hayden decided to wait a full 24 hours to make his entrance into the world... or maybe God delayed his arrival, because He knows how much Mother's Day means to me. Whatever the reason for a prolonged labor and delivery, I did receive this little gift from Heaven on my favorite day of the year...

Eleven children later, birth never loses its beauty to me. There is a palpable grace in the air when my babies arrive- I always wonder if our room is filled with hidden angels, ushering in our little one with silent smiles and offering praise to God for the miracle of life.

I don't take lightly this gift of motherhood.

And as a mama who has given birth in my twenties, thirties, and now twice in my forties... I realize what an amazing role I've been handed throughout my life.

I distinctly remember the day I became a mother, 26 years ago last March.

I remember staring down in wonder at my sweet baby boy, exhausted and thrilled and awestruck that this little person came from inside of me.

I was so grateful and so in love...but I remember too, that feeling of being completely overwhelmed at the responsibility represented in that little bundle lying in my arms. Having babysat so many little ones for half of my life, it instantly dawned on me that nobody was going to fill in any gaps from here on out. If I didn't bathe my baby - or change him, or feed him or clothe him - nobody else was going to do it for me. He wasn't going home at the end of the day to be cared for, and returned to me in the morning, freshly changed and ready for the day. The magnitude of that level of care pressed down on me, causing me to pray harder and longer and more fervently than I had ever prayed before in my twenty short years  : I was responsible for a human life. I might get a lot of things wrong in the future, might fail in a million areas, but this one had no room for errors. This one I had to get right.

But you know what I've realized over the years?

I can fail.

I can mess things up : speak too harshly, remind too loudly, cry too often, praise too rarely...

I might forget a tooth under the pillow (or two, or three !!), burn a dinner, buy the wrong birthday gift, embarrass my kids in front of their friends ...

There will be times when I totally drop the ball and give into self-indulgence, ignoring a request for mommy-daughter time because I'm too tired to think straight and just want to curl up in bed with a good book...


Other times I might lie awake in bed remembering all the careless words spoken, all the "why-didn't-I-just-take-the-time-to-listen-instead-of-lecture" moments, chastising myself until I fall into a restless sleep...

There may be countless phone calls to a worn-out husband, begging him to "tell me what to do with this child, because he's driving me CRAZY!" and then hanging up and starting over again...



Oh yes, I can fail, and fail big time.



But I've also found that there is grace.

We falter and we fail as mamas, we learn from our mistakes and then we make new ones and learn from those as well.

We have days when we try so hard and go to sleep at night wondering if it's all worth it, and if anyone even notices all the little sacrifices we make.

We have moments of questioning it all, and questioning ourselves in the process, ten, fifteen, a hundred times a day.

We have seasons- sometimes prolonged seasons - when we want to throw in the towel and go back to the time when life was simpler, and the greatness of our lives was not measured in spilled milk and dirty diapers and forgotten teeth under the pillow...



But we find grace.

We find grace in our times of trouble, and we realize that in our weakness, God's strength is made perfect.

We learn to rely on His help and His ability to grow and nurture and heal - both us and our children.

We fall down and we pick ourselves back up again, and we realize that tomorrow is a new day, and although we may do this a thousand times in a life time- this failing and learning and leaning into God - that of all living creatures we are blessed ...

.... because we are mothers.



We aren't perfect, we aren't saints, but we love and we are loved...

... and this is enough.


Happy Mother's Day to all those who have entered into this glorious calling ....

xoxo

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New Born Baby

through her eyes

{The moccasins Lily is wearing in this post were specially designed and named after her by HelloMoccs. You can purchase The Lily Mocc at hellomoccs.bigcartel.com)




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Sometimes life presents us instances where we can view our past self through the filter of our present circumstances, and when we realize the person we've become... the change is so drastic, we are almost unrecognizable.

Have you ever been there ?

Have you ever relived a moment - had a deja vu experience - only to realize that this time you got it right ? Where once you might have viewed a situation as unfortunate or unredeemable, this time you saw through the eyes of experience ?

I had a moment like that this week... a deja vu, been-there-done-that moment... only this time I saw the truth for what it was.

Ten years ago, I was part of an email group for large families. Members of this group exchanged emails filled with suggestions on everything from camping with lots of small children, to shopping and sticking to a budget when feeding a crowd, to ideas and opinions on birth control.  I enjoyed the email discussions and gleaned many ideas over the course of several years of reading. I felt like I got to know some of these families pretty well - this was in the days before blogging and Instagram existed, so most of the emails were heavy on words and light on photos. 

There was one photo however, included in the batch of emails grouped together one particular week, that is forever etched in my mind.


A family in the group had just welcomed another baby into the world... he was their eighth child. I was pregnant with Noah (my eighth) at the time, so I felt a sort of kinship with this family. They had several children who shared our children's names, and the ages of all our little ones coincided as well.

During this time, a marker for Down syndrome had shown up on Noah's ultrasound; I waited eight long weeks for a follow up ultrasound to see if it remained. I had opted out of an amnio, and those seemingly eternal weeks of waiting brought me to a place of prayer and surrender that I had never gone through during previous pregnancies. When our follow up scan revealed a clean bill of health (no markers as far as the doctor could see) I admittedly breathed a huge sigh of relief. I remember hanging up the phone and feeling as if a hundred pounds had been lifted off my shoulders. I called Sam crying, and told him our baby looked "perfectly normal."

So a few weeks later, when I opened the email that contained a photo of a brand new baby in our group of large families ... my heart sank. Although nothing was said in their birth announcement, it was obvious from the baby's tiny features that he had Down syndrome. His tiny closed eyes were tilted upwards at the corners, his little rosebud were lips pulled down slightly at the edges, and his sweet little button nose was very clearly lacking any prominent bridge at the top. He lay softly in his mommy's arms, and while he slept, all of his siblings leaned in, gazing down adoringly at his angelic face. The smile on his parents' faces looked genuine, and the words printed beneath the photo spoke of pride and joy at the birth of their son.



But in my mind, I thought they had to be hurting.



Of course they loved their son, and I had no doubt that they would spend the rest of their lives caring for him with willing and thankful hearts - they seemed to be such a kind family, I had no reason to think otherwise.

But after receiving the news that my own baby was "perfectly normal", I couldn't help but feel sad that this family had somehow been dealt a blow. It appeared that the diagnosis of Down syndrome had come as a surprise - either that, or they had never thought it an important enough detail to include in any of their previous emails. Either way, I felt such a heaviness and even a little bit of guilt for several days, knowing that very well could have been me.

Because underneath my sadness and angst for this family, was perhaps secret relief - I knew I would love and treasure a baby with Down syndrome, but in all honesty I prayed that this would never happen to me.

I truly did have genuine pity for this family, and I wondered at their reaction to the birth of their son. I knew they loved him - but in my naivety I believed they loved him in spite of his Down syndrome. He was their own - he shared the same white blond hair that his siblings all had, and it was clear that he resembled a few of his older brothers, despite the features that pointed to an added chromosome. But in my mind, this family was somewhat heroic- they were choosing to look past his differences and were somehow sacrificially loving their baby in spite of his diagnosis.


How wrong I was.

Fast forward to this morning, when I read a comment on one of my photos of Lily on Instagram.

I had captioned my photo "Did you know princess can have Down syndrome too ? #truestory."

Among the many sweet comments on Lily's photo was this one :
"I cannot WAIT to meet my princess !!!! 3 weeks or less"


And this is where I had a do-over moment.

Because instead of feeling a moment of sadness for this first time mama... instead of wondering how she bravely put on a good face in spite of everything ... instead of thinking what a sweet and heroic thing that was for a parent expecting a baby with Down syndrome to say ...

... I felt her joy.


I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this mommy was beyond excited to welcome her little girl into the world - designer genes and all.

And even though she hasn't yet experienced what we have - joy unspeakable and full of glory - she has a taste of it. She loves her daughter fiercely , and it isn't an "in-spite-of" kind of love. She loves her baby with the same love that every mama feels- an unconditional, easy-as-breathing, proud and happy and over-the-moon love - and she can't wait to meet her.

I know this because of the eyes I've been given ... the beautiful, star-studded, almond-shaped eyes of my tenth baby. I see clearly now, because I view life through the perfect filter of truth.

I don't love Lily in-spite-of. I don't love Lily because it's the right thing to do. I don't have to conjure up emotions for my daughter, forcing down a feeling of regret or shame or what-might-have-been.

My love for Lily is genuine and deep and rich, and no different than my love for any of my ten other children.

It's so easy to love this girl.

If you know her, you know what I mean...

Today I'm thanking God for the gift of Lily.

I'm thanking Him for opening my eyes to see the truth of what that family knew so many years ago ... their baby was not a burden or a tragedy to be endured. He was a miracle and a blessing and a gift sent straight from Heaven. He arrived in a package that looked different than his siblings, but he was no less a miracle or cause for celebration than those other babies before him.

I know the love his family felt for him was real - because I'm experiencing it every day.

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New Born Baby