This past weekend we celebrated Dad’s birthday with a little lunch BBQ at our house. This is Dad and sweet sleeping Fuller (Caroline’s baby).

I was proud as punch of my turquoise folding chairs I snagged at Target.

Charlotte (Can we call her that?  I’d like to.) did not have the picturesque childhood that she yearned for for her own students.  There are not a lot of details known about her early years but John Thorley, the Principal of the Charlotte Mason College, says that she was raised by her father who went bankrupt and died when Charlotte was in her early teens.  Friends and family helped her to attend a year-long training college in 1860 to learn to become a teacher.  She worked as an elementary school teacher for about ten years, and then began lecturing in a college on ways to teach elementary-aged children.

Kendall rocked some appetizers. That is chickpea AND edamame hummus. We are kind of refined.

The kids ran down the driveway to meet the birthday boy as he arrived. Can you see who is driving the car? Is it normal to let 6 year olds drive?

In 1878, Charlotte left her post at the college in Chichester and began to write.  She wrote a series of books on English geography, and then Home Education –a book that explained how parents could give their children a quality and exciting education–at home.  The book quickly grew in popularity, and Charlotte went on to found the Parents National Education Union (PNEU).  It was at this time that Charlotte moved to Ambleside (in the Lake District) and began to train governesses to teach using her methods.  In !892, her House of Education (a college) was established and flourished.

The star of the day was Bentley, our bonus niece. She received cochlear implants 6 days before our party and she and her Mom were out there partying as hard as the rest of us. She is such an angel on earth.

Charlotte did not only love children, she did not only dedicate her life to establishing methods for teaching them, Charlotte valued children–as thinking, feeling souls who have been entrusted to us–their parents.  She then charges us with Pestalozzi’s words: The mother is qualified, and qualified by the Creator himself, to become the principal agent in the development of her child;…and what is demanded of her is a thinking love…God has given to thy child all the faculties of our nature, but the grand point remains undecided–how shall this heart, this head, these hands, be employed? to whose service shall they be dedicated?  A question the answer to which involves a futurity of happiness or misery to a life so dear to thee.  Maternal love is the first agent in education.

Don’t you dare smile Mary Aplin.

Jay Paul loves babies–especially his cousin John Clark. Warren loves food

There are so many things that Charlotte Mason wrote that have struck deep chords in me, and I know I am going to have to limit myself in these posts.  Tell myself that I don’t have to syphon her down to a single blog post.  Since this has already been long enough, I think I’ll end this first post with an excerpt from her chapter titled “Out-of-Door Life for the Children”, that makes me want to do a happy dance:

People who live in the country know the value of fresh air very well, and their children live out of doors, with intervals within for sleeping and eating.  As to the latter, even country people do not make full use of their opportunities.  On fine days when it is warm enough to sit out with wraps, why should not tea and breakfast, everything but a hot dinner, be served out of doors?  For we are an overwrought generation, running to nerves as a cabbage runs to seed; and every hour spent in the open is clear gain, tending to the increase of brain power and bodily vigour, and to the lengthening of life itself.  They who know what it is to have fevered skin and throbbing brain deliciously soothed by the cool touch of the air are inclined to make a new rule of life, “Never be within doors when you can rightly be without.”

Besides the gain of an hour or two in the open air, there is this to be considered: meals taken al fresco are usually joyous, and there is nothing like gladness for converting meat and drink into healthy blood and tissue.  All the time, too, the children are storing up memories of a happy childhood.  Fifty years hence they will see the shadows of the boughs making patterns on the white tablecloth; and sunshine, children’s laughter, hum of bees, and scent of flowers are being bottled up for after refreshment.

Second, I do want to apologize for how sporadic I’ve gotten again with my writing.  It is not intentional, I hope (because it is certain to happen again) it will never be a permanent disappearance, and you can be sure there are always reasons why I disappear and that I’m frustrated about those reasons.  However, I determined a few years back not to apologize and bore everybody with my long list of reasons (that look exactly like your long list of reasons why you aren’t getting to do the things you enjoy doing for yourself).  If I do, the blog becomes a continual string of apologies, and I get weary when people do that all the time, don’t you?  So here is my apology, to cover the next year or so

V-Day 2011, Seattle. Delivering a heart-shaped cake to Daddy at work.

I love love.  I love people who love big.  I love that I have been married for ten years, and still if I sit and think about all the reasons I love Jeremiah, I get an overwhelming urge to try and make him understand just how big the love that swells and pounds in my heart really is.  The differences between the me that loved Jeremiah when we were dating and the me that loves Jeremiah now are that I have a deeper, more layered, and superfluous love for him today, AND that when Valentine’s day rolls around and I feel like my opportunity for crazy love has arrived….I am no longer worried that he might break up with me if I show him my crazy.

V-Day 2012. Jay Paul had just been born so all anybody got was a card

Despite my desire to show crazy love, this year we (Jeremiah and I) had just gotten back in town from a trip (Woohoo!!) before Valentine’s day hit.  I hadn’t had my normal week of mulling and preparation before the day arrived.  I also now have two little goblins who have come to expect lots of help preparing for their own day, and I am sure you all can empathize with the difficulty of stepping back into your life with four children after you’ve been away for a time.  If you can’t empathize, I will say that it feels a lot like trying to take a delicate sip of water from a fire hydrant.  Especially if one member of the clan (sweet Mae girl) vomits on you 2.5 minutes after you walk in the door, and you know there are a few days of sterilizing hands and scrubbing “accidents” ahead of you.

V-Day 2013. We made “breakfast in bed” baskets for our friends.

While my love has not dimmed, you can see that my time for amorous shows of my affection has decreased greatly.  Every year I try to give myself an out.  You can just let it go.  He knows you love him.  There is no need to come up with a way to show him or anybody else that you love them on Valentine’s Day.  I try to give myself permission to be normal… … …But then the day comes upon me and I can’t BEAR to not do SOMETHING.  It’s just against how I am made.  So, here’s our attempt at a lower-key Valentine’s day:

I helped with Mary Aplin’s class Valentine’s Day party on the day before V-Day. I got the idea for these cupcakes off pinterest (which I am not on but still peruse from time to time). I used a box mix of strawberry cake and made some buttercream icing (tinted pink). They were delicious, if I do say so myself. So delicious that we made several more batches…

I used these daisies for her party as well, and reused them for my Valentine the next day. Vases were $1 from Target and the wool heart garland was also from Target.

Pace and I started off our Valentine’s Day right with a V-day variation of an “Egg in a Hole”. The other children said “No thank you, we will just have sugar coated cereal.”

I managed to squeeze in a morning run. I listened to Mumford and Sons radio on Pandora. It was glorious. Happy Valentines Day to ME!

I took these goblins on an impromptu picnic in the yard. I made the girls pack it themselves while I was in the shower. Surprisingly, it went well. Except for the fact that Pace only put 2 slivers of turkey on my sandwich and between 4 and 6 slices on her own  Mae is getting frustrated that she can’t join in.

After lunch, I took these two goblins to Jeremiah’s office for our big trick. They tied notes to each flower and we passed them out to the patients in the waiting room at Jeremiah’s clinic, asking them to hand him the flower when he came in to see them. Except for the one grown man who was a little leary of offering another man a flower, it went well.

We took some of our cupcakes to Jeremiah and the nurses helping him. This shot was 9.8 seconds before Mary Aplin ran into the plate and knocked one cupcake to the ground, I palmed a second one and all the others were thoroughly squished. We reassured everyone that they had once been lovely. Daddy ate the one that fell on the ground. That’s real love.

Finally we made cupcake deliveries to the great-grands and grands in our town. Grandma and Grandpa, my Mom’s parents.  Thank you Pace, for being the only child still willing to smile with any truthfulness.

Mimi, my Dad’s Mom–looking wonderful. Pace, apparently taking a glamour shot. Mae Mae, lost that sock didn’t you sweet girl? Jay Paul, I hope that was just an itch. Mary Aplin, are you on Mars or Venus? It was a wonderful but long day.

I hate not to have one picture of my Valentine on the whole post, so here we are on a date on our vacation. Trying awkwardly to take a “selfie”. We had our date the night before V-day and spent the actual night crashed on the couch with the kids, eating pizza and watching Ghostbusters (of all things!). Hope your day was filled with love like ours was!

If you had asked me one month ago if I would ever home-school, I would have given you the answer I have given everyone for the past eight years, “I just pray God never calls me to that.  I do not have the patience.  I am not a teacher.”  I had a bit of an ostrich’s viewpoint on the subject.  I mainly tried to stay away from homeschooling conversations for fear I would feel that well-known prickle in my heart.  I didn’t want a prickle to start urging me to keep my children home, we needed SPACE from each other, didn’t we?

Six-ish years ago, when my friend Lauren invited me to a “Mother Nurture” meeting, with little more explanation than it was a group of women that she looked up to that met once a month to…encourage each other, I accepted without question.  All I knew was that I was learning a LOT from Lauren, and if I had the chance to meet the women that SHE was learning from, I did not plan to miss the opportunity.  However, when we arrived and I found myself floating in a  tumultuous sea of homeschooling Moms who were all talking about “Charlotte Mason”, “Living Books”, and “Nature”–that ostrich in me wanted to bolt for the door.  Why had Lauren brought me here?  Pace was nowhere near school age, Mary Aplin wasn’t even born yet, and I liked the idea of homeschooling about as much as I liked hot mayonnaise sandwiches.

But I didn’t bolt, I stayed, and I listened to the passion these women shared for teaching their children, spending as much of their days in open air as possible, inspiring children’s desire to learn by nurturing their natural curiosity about nature, creating beauty in a child’s learning environment, laying a feast of knowledge before a child and then allowing them to eat, and above all staying away from “twattle”.  I listened quietly.  Seeds were being planted that would lay dormant for a long time, but I never forgot Charlotte Mason’s name.

A few years later, Lauren and my (school teacher, book club, dear person) friend Stephanie started a school–really more of a whisper of a school, with 4 or 5 neighborhood girls coming to Stephanie’s home where she sort of home-schooled for their Moms, using Charlotte Mason’s principles.  As the school grew, adding a few more students and another grade level, Stephanie and James bought our house in Birmingham and, not long after our family moved out, our old basement was transformed into Crestwood Day School.  It was happening all around me, and I was an enthusiastic supporter, but I was primarily thankful for no homeschool pricks in my own heart.

Now fast-forward to this Christmas, 3 and a half years later.  God has just confirmed in Jeremiah and me a desire to stay in the country and build, and I have been practicing acceptance of our fast-paced back-and-forth-all-day-long lifestyle.  Ripping babies out of beds, nursing in the backseat of the car, hovering at Dad and Konie’s house in town for some of the little in-between segments when we don’t have time to go home but have a hard time being contained in the car…”I can do this Lord.  If you’ve called me to it, I can do it.”  That’s what I’ve been telling myself. And I really had moved into a quiet acceptance of our pace, most of the time.  Then, Christmas break happened and when it was time to go back to school both girls came to me saying, “Mom, we don’t want to go back!  We want to stay home with you.” … … …You do?  Really?  You mean that?  And I suddenly realized that I didn’t want them to go back either.  I wanted them home with me…badly.  I wanted to be more than their chauffeur.  I wanted to have time to teach them things that I value–like embroidery, or baking bread, or gardening, or horseback riding.  There is no time for any of those things in a life where we do homework as quickly as we can between after school activities and bedtime.

I feel like my ostrich peeked one timid eye out of its hole.  Just one eye!  But with that eye out, Charlotte Mason’s name came immediately back to my mind and so did memories of that “Mother Nurture” meeting.  I started doing some reading, online first, then I ordered a couple of books.  At the same time, I told Jeremiah WHEN OUR HOUSE IS BUILT, I might be willing to CONSIDER homeschooling.  Then, I started sharing Charlotte Mason’s philosophies with him, and we were amazed by how God had been working on his heart without either of us realizing it.  Jeremiah has been on a rampage in the past few months, of trying to learn to name trees and birds and plants…and teaching all of these things to the girls and me.  So much so that I gave him a set of field guides and a brass magnifying glass for Christmas–which are some of the first items Charlotte Mason suggests you purchase for your classroom.

I was tempted to shove my head back into the hole, I could no longer deny that my heart was being pricked, it was being pummeled.  Everything was lining up too perfectly.  This time, instead of hiding, I pulled my whole head out of my hole and looked homeschooling straight in the face.

The more I read, the more on fire I became.  I heard my words change from “Maybe in a few years–when our house is built–we can hire a ‘Stephanie’ to teach our kids.”, to “I don’t think I can wait a few years, I want to do this as soon as possible.”, to “I am insanely jealous at the thought of anybody else getting to share this experience with our children, I want to teach them myself!”

There are so many more small, beautiful pieces to the puzzle.  Many other seeds that were planted through the years–some in me, some in Jeremiah, and a few dear farmers that planted them, but it is with overwhelming excitement and more than a little trepidation that I tell you that next year I am going to homeschool Pace and Mary Aplin.  I am hopeful that my friend Stephanie is going to bundle her curriculum for me to purchase so that we can be guided more directly through Charlotte Mason’s principles than any curriculum I have been able to find.  Oh the joy I have in knowing Stephanie’s heart for children and literature and knowing how fortunate I am to have her skill as a resource!  I am planning to blog the journey.  I am believing that God doesn’t call us to something without hanging around to equip us for the work.  I am delighted to see all the pieces clicking into place in a way that finally brings peace to my soul–and hopefully my home.  I said peace, not quiet  I feel SURE it will not be quiet.

Since Mae napped through Jay Paul’s party, she wasn’t in any of the last shots. I hate to totally exclude her from the post, so here she is last week about to try solids for the first time. Looking hopeful…

Not so sure…

Epic fail.  Let’s hope homeschooling goes better than Mae’s first solids attempt

But, a routine feels nice once the bandaid is ripped off and we settle back under our yoke.

I have started questioning the pace in which we live, however.  I have started questioning if I want my primary role with my children to be forever hurrying them to the next thing.  “Did you remember ____, Hurry!, Why aren’t your shoes on your feet?, Hurry!, Get IN the car, Hurry!, Who took the wipes out of the diaper bag?, Hurry!, Do you understand what HURRY means?…”

These are the words of life and love I speak to my children all day long…and I hate it.  It’s what I don’t like about the routine.

And I’ve started to question if there is another way?  And I think God may have answered…I’ll fill you in when I know for sure.

It started around my fifth month of pregnancy, when I began to fret over where I was going to put a fourth baby in the 3 bedroom house that we have been renting for the past 2 years.  Would I put 3 children in one room, or both babies in the nursery?  Would we buy another baby bed or would Jay Paul move into a regular bed?  How in the world was anybody going to come and visit us, when we are at more than max capacity?  All of those justifiable reasons to buy a larger home, coupled with my hidden one–a desperate desire to own a place that belonged to us, to decorate it, to be able to make changes, to make it ours.

So I frantically searched for a larger home, and Jeremiah began realizing my hidden agenda when I was willing to buy a home smaller than the one we are renting now  “I thought this was all about needing space?”  Well, maybe not ALL about needing space.  Then, a month before Mae was born, we moved Jay Paul into the same room with the girls and it worked WONDERFULLY.  My friend Melissa encouraged me to give it a try, saying that she had loved moving all three of her littles into one room, and so we did.  And she was right!  And my family had a brief period of relief from my crazies.

However, after Mae was born two things happened that hurled me back into discontentment in a major way: 1) We found a snake in our bedroom–3 ft from the cradle where my baby sleeps. 2) I began to crave the convenience of living in town after adding a fourth life and second nap schedule to our family.

While the snake was the primary catalyst, I am not going to go into it too much here.  It deserves a blog all its own.  But I will reassure everyone that there is life after finding a snake in your house (I was worried for a time that that may be impossible), that some of the reason it came inside was our fault (while studying for the boards this summer, Jeremiah allowed the field around our house to grow up to our front door–literally), and that we found the snake’s entry point and sealed it.

Then, right after the snake, the girls started back to school and Mae developed newborn pneumonia, and I think I was pretty close to nervous breakdown.  In my mind, during all of that life upheaval, I was convinced that if we just bought a house in town–a home that was close to all of the children’s activities and snake free–that I would be content.  That stress would be gone.  That I would no longer feel like my life was swirling around above my head instead of sitting firmly on the ground where it belonged.

Finally, God got my attention.  We had narrowed our house search down to 2 homes, and if it weren’t for Jeremiah holding the reigns, we would have been moved into one of those two homes months ago.  BUT Jeremiah kept refusing to make a huge life decision (like buying a home), while I was…crazy.  While you can imagine that that reasoning did not rest well with me at the time, it did give me space to calm down and hear what God wanted for us instead of what I wanted for us.  I had just dropped Pace and Mary Aplin off at school when it happened.  I began to notice bits and pieces of a sermon that was playing on the radio.  The overall message was this:

We (as a generation) are often placing our own comfort and convenience above the things God is calling us to do. And there are sobering consequences–primarily missing the joys brought about by His best for our life.

The example the preacher on the radio used was the choice to forgo having children until much later in life because we believe there is more joy to be had in revolving our life around what we want instead of what someone else needs.  In one word, convenience.  {I am DEFINITELY not saying that God calls everyone to have children early in their marriage!}.  This message resounded with learned truth for me.  I did not make a holy and self-less choice to become a mother at the age of 23–after being married for only two years, (I was actually taking birth control and completely surprised) but I have reaped the magnificent rewards of that divine intervention for the past eight years.  First with Pace, then Mary Aplin, Jay Paul, and now Mae.  The gaping hole of wonderful life I would have missed if I had had my own convenient way instead of God’s way for my life!

In that single moment listening to the radio, the word “convenience” morphed from my mantra to a dirty word.  My long list of reasons for moving from farm-life to city-life were primarily an outcry for comfort and convenience.  As I drove the remainder of the 10-minute drive to our home, these are the words God drew from my heart:

On Monday, I noticed that the last of the cutting was complete and everywhere my eye could reach had the shorn freshness of a new haircut.  On Tuesday, a white crane–its long graceful neck held in the smooth curve of flight–raced my car down the driveway as I took the children to school, skimming just above the black pond, eye to eye with me as I drove over the dam.  On Wednesday, two horses plucked up the courage to go around the wire fence and so enjoyed their afternoon snack just outside our back door.  Today-Thursday-the harvest moon was so joyous over the crisp breath of fall that is whispering over the land, that she forgot to go to bed and greeted the whole family on the porch for breakfast–where sleepy-eyed babies nibbled buttered toast in their daddy’s lap and watched the moon go back to sleep.

I know that God has “a most excellent way” that is different and just suited for each of His children.  I also know that He allows us a choice and that we may choose a different path for our life than the one He has planned.  For me, there are days when I want to chose the path of convenience.  When I want a short, paved driveway that is close to school and all the activities of my children’s lives.  When I want to not have to plan my day so meticulously because I can always pop in and out of my house around the corner to grab whatever I forgot.  When I tell myself that I might have time to do more important things if I weren’t DRIVING so much…But if I chose convenience, would I look back over my life and realize I’d traded that convenience for the everyday glory He reveals to me when I surround myself with His wonders?  Because it is in the small, everyday surprises where He shows himself the most, and while I know He can find me anywhere, I believe His “most excellent way” for me and our children is found living on land.

Ashley made this for our Christmas party, not me!

I sat in my parked car in our garage and pecked all that out on my phone, because I knew He had given it to me, and I didn’t want to forget a single word.  I wish I had recorded the phone conversation when I tearfully called to share those words with Jeremiah.  A husband who’d left the house that morning with a dripping faucet wife nagging him about how long he was waiting before he bought us a home in town!  To a wife who is crying on the phone two hours later with all of that.  “What does this mean, Abby?”  he asked, flummoxed.  I didn’t know!  I am pretty dense, and if you can believe it, I had gratefully received that word from God and was still telling my husband that we should move in town for right now, that this message was for LATER.  I am serious.  The only excuse I can offer for that lack of perspective is that I am extraordinarily afraid of snakes.

It took a beach trip with my sisters the next day–you know those people who are brutally honest with you?–before I let the message penetrate to my core.  On the drive down, they asked about where Jeremiah and I were with our house decision and I told them we were still confused…that we had narrowed it down to two houses in town, but that we still ultimately wanted to build in the country.  Then, I read them what I had typed on my phone…And I got slam dunked in that moment in the car.  Had I really received a direct answer to my prayer for clarity for our decision and still was claiming confusion?  “You have your answer, Abby!  Why won’t you accept it?”

Now, I have accepted it.  We have made some small changes where we are living (mainly organizational issues), that make our day-to-day life more manageable in a house that has stayed the same size, while our family has doubled in size.  We have met with an architect and I have prepared my “house notebook” so that the house that has been living in our heads for the past 10 years can maybe have some wood and stone slapped onto it.

The primary change, however, has been my heart and squeezing close the hole in my faucet to stop all that dripping.    A few months ago I would have told you it was impossible for me to be content where we are living now.  I looked longingly at every house I passed on my way in and out of town and thought how much more convenient my life would be if we just lived THERE.  However, when I finally caught a glimpse of God’s best for our life, everything else came into a new perspective.  The drive, the house size, even the snake were not huge issues.  I don’t want to settle for any less than His best, and His best this minute is exactly where we are.

Ashley also took a lot of time to hook these lights up to the carriage, to make our night-time wagon ride happen on a day when she didn’t really have any time to give. I appreciate you Ashley!!!!!

Have you ever tried to get a good picture of two babies at once?  I don’t know how people with twins do it?!

John David (Taylor’s husband) is in an intense residency in Los Angeles, and Taylor needed a some help and rest.  A little peace and relaxation.  We told her this was the IDEAL place to come.  It is always quiet here…

And there is no better place to find a peaceful night’s sleep…

Ok, so maybe those things aren’t true, but we are glad she believed us!  And we are excited to get some time with them both.

I’m not sure what MyMae is telling Caloway, but she is serious about it! Caloway does not seem too affected

And we are hoping that the loud, early morning wake-up calls  leave us more time for enjoying this:

Between Taylor’s arrival and Thanksgiving, Fuller Oakland was born!! Which means that all four babies have now been born to all four sisters in just under 6 months.

All expecting here!

Unfortunately, little Fuller has Group B strep just like baby Mae did.  They will have some great stories to swap one day.  He also has a bit of jaundice, so our first meeting had to happen in the NICU and it looked a little something like this:

Nice shades buddy!

I got to seem him without his glasses and with that blue light turned off for a few minutes.  What  a precious wonder he is!!!!!!!  There is nothing like the heart swelling emotion that a new family member brings. I can’t wait to love this guy for the rest of his life.

And in that state of excitement I swept him up off his bed and set off all the alarms in the NICU.

Fuller Oakland Blair. Born (the day before Thanksgiving) November 27th. 7lb 8oz

After my shenanigans Taylor was relegated to an awkward squatting picture.

Sorry T  Please pray Fuller gets well soon and can go home with Caroline, Riley, and Warren.  And if any of you feel your life lacks excitement, please come and visit us down here in our quiet, peaceful, uneventful and orderly world.

John Clark Downs, 8lb 3oz and 21 inches long

My nurse told Kendall, “You sister JUST walked out of here!”  I wish I had stayed, because a few hours later John Clark Downs made his way into the world:

He is marvelous, isn’t he?  Fresh from heaven.  And Kendall and Watson’s childbirth experience was the kind you would expect to see in an old black and white movie.  Contractions began, Watson drove her to the hospital.  She was admitted and a short time later was given her epidural.  Kendall slept through most of the night after her epidural, only waking occasionally to be checked.  Then, early the next morning, her doctor WOKE HER WITH THE NEWS THAT IT WAS TIME TO PUSH.  Did you think that kind of thing actually happened in real life???  I didn’t.  Kendall said it felt very much like waking up on Christmas morning, because, after 20 minutes of pushing, she was holding the most soft, wriggly, and wonderful gift she’s ever received.

Papa and John Clark

Alas, the black and white movie reel ended a day or so later with the postpartum pains, awkwardness of a mom and baby trying to teach each other how to do something that neither of them has ever done before–nurse, and realization that it was now time to care for the helpless wonder–OUTSIDE of the safe hospital.  This is where I like to butt myself right up into my sisters’ lives.  I get to come in and stay with them and act like a know-it-all ;).  It has always been hard, all three first babies that I have gotten to share with Taylor, Caroline, and now Kendall, but it is also such a privilege to be a part of those first days of life.  The uncertainty, the endless little tasks, the fragility of newborns and hormone swings–coupled with the freshness of new life, wonder of a teeny tiny baby, and joy of welcoming a new member to our family.

This is Watson’s family’s first grandbaby, and I LOVE this moment…Everyone in awe of the diaper change, and the diaper change requiring BOTH parents

John Clark and his Yaya

Kendall had her Christmas present, to be sure.

And the sweet little present could not decide what in the world to do with his hands. This works as well as anything else, I suppose.

And Watson was the most googley-eyed new Daddy I have ever seen.  At one point he told Kendall, “I want 10,000 of these.”  At another time, he said, “I just want to surround myself with babies.”  One night Kendall and I were talking in the kitchen and Kendall said, “Abby, I think Watson may love John Clark even more than I do…”  No, no I began to reassure her.  That is not possible…but then we both peeked into the den where Watson was holding the baby.   He had no idea we could see him, and he was lying on the couch, John Clark asleep on his chest, simply beaming at that baby.  I had to admit their love levels might be a toss up.

Strong boy!

Aunt Mary Grace, Yaya, and Pops

Mama B was doing a WHOLE lot of deep cleaning while I was there. I felt a little worthless as she worked circles around me.

I left Kendall’s house last Wednesday and as I tried to re-adjust back into my own (barely manageable) life I realized that I only had two days to plan Pace’s birthday party, which I had sent out invitations for just before John Clark was born.

The Shack, in all her glory

I wanted to get party favors that they may use…maybe. It’s rare to find a useable party favor, isn’t it?

My Mae came to the party!!!

Oh, you know, somewhere between the cold and the hospital stay.  It was a panicky couple days of pulling things together, but it turned out to be a fun party…I think.

I love my snickel Dace

Elle, Pace, and Mary Aplin

The first clue reading for the scavenger hunt. Seems like it was very serious business for me.

So serious, that I didn’t think my daughter issued enough drama with her reading. Here I’m giving it a try, and scaring the little girl in front of me.

These girls sprinted! from one clue to the next and found all 8 clues in about 1/4 of the time I had anticipated.

I was really proud of my little rhyming clues. I thought yall might want to read one because the girls didn’t care at all

The surprise at the end of the hunt!!!  The birthday girl was on the verge of heat exhaustion, apparently.

How come I’m the only one smiling at the camera? Don’t worry, Mary Aplin didn’t fall out.

Next, we had a quick lesson on how to make cane syrup from sugar cane and since the work horses were already put away for the day, we let the girls be the horse and grind some themselves.

Big pot of cane juice, trying to boil.

Happy birthday to you, Pace!

It was a fun day.

The end of this lengthy recap, is that we left our computer and internet at the Maddox’s house after the birthday party…I just got it back last night.  So I really haven’t been procrastinating the blog, just swept up in a whole lot of life.

We had a Whoville kind of Halloween! The Grinch, his dog Max, The Cat in the Hat, Thing 1(who temporarily lost her number before this picture), Thing 2, and the Goldfish

I know that it always takes time to re-establish your normal routines after adding a new member to the family.  I had a 30-minute long conversation with my friend Ann recently, solely on how to navigate from the grocery store parking lot, through the store, and finally the check-out line.  If you were eavesdropping, you would have wondered what military re-connaissance effort we were planning.  Doing the grocery store with children is not for sissies. Three months into life as a mother of four babies, and I feel pretty confident about taking on our normal activities.  It doesn’t always go well, but I at least have a protocol to fall back on for most situations… …

Max was very confused about how Daddy and the Grinch could be the same person.

But he warmed to him eventually.

What I could not establish a protocol for, was how to stop feeling like a swarm.  How to stop feeling overwhelmed and short of breath about the number of lives I was responsible for.  How to feel like I was mother to Pace. Mary Aplin. Jay Paul. and Mae all day long.

Trick or Treat

The startling revelation that I came to, was that I needed to seek out time with them as individuals.  Please realize that I say this with caution, knowing that this may not always be how we operate.  It may not seem the least bit revultionary to you like it has been for me, but living moment to moment and seizing every possible opportunity to be with them one-on-one is how I make it through the day right now.  It is how I have found my breath again after adding number four.

Edible

Often, it is not so much that I am DOING anything differently, as it is that I am RECOGNIZING and making the best of ordinary times in our day.  For example, Mary Aplin gets out of school at 12 and Jay Paul takes a nap until it is time to leave again to pick up Pace at 3.  That is now my coveted time with Dapples.  We do her homework, normally.  Nothing too special, but later in the afternoon, when it is time for Pace’s homework, I don’t feel bad sending Mary Aplin upstairs to “babysit” Jay Paul in the playroom.  I have had my time with Dapples, and the 3:30-4:30 window is Pace’s time.

Hilarious

Once I started noticing these windows of positive time, it helped me realize who had a defecit…it was poor Jay Paul.  And as frustrated as I have been with him for all his naughtiness of late, I started to wonder if it could be that my neediest child was in need of focused attention.  So, I dropped one of his mornings at MMO and started devoting Mae’s (marvelous) morning nap all to him at least one morning a week.  He started loving me again.  Instead of being frustrated ALL of the time, now it’s only 3/4 of the time

Thank you Dean Family! For letting us come to your house for Halloween, for throwing an awesome Halloween party, and for letting my children get to experience Halloween-on-steroids in Grove Park. We don’t get many trick-or-treaters out our way

My Mae’s moments have to be stolen in little spurts throughout the day.  I have started going (alone) to the nursery to nurse her at least a couple times a day.  Sometimes Jay Paul finds us and tears the room to shreds around us or squeezes in the chair with us demanding “Book!” “Book!” as he wallops us with it, but sometimes he doesn’t.  And I get to gaze at her little face and we smile at each other so big that my heart swells to three times its size.  She is a patient wonder.

No Max, you cannot hold the Goldfish. Smiling through the stress

There are still times when I get overwhelmed by the swarm, but spending the day looking for one-on-one times, valuing those moments when they do present themselves as a precious opportunity, and praying God continues to provide the energy for me to make it through them all is how I’ve survived so far.  It gives me benchmarks to feel like I’ve accomplished something throughout our day, instead of just powering through it.  And there are times, like yesterday afternoon when all three were playing together at the park, and Mae was happily observing it all from my arms when I LOVE the swarm.  All of them together.  All at once.

I love this family.

I can sit her down and she will quietly and curiously observe the world around her, at least for a little while, before making a small whimper or grunt to request some attention.  Now that she is becoming more coordinated, she will lay on her play mat and bat and kick at dangling objects with an intensity that shows her excitement and discovery.  If you smile at her, and don’t wane in your enthusiasm, you will be rewarded with smile in return–often immediately.

Mae coos and “talks” with so much animation that I am spell-bound when she gets chatty and have trouble dragging myself away (no matter how great the needs are swirling around me).  Maybe each baby gets to be the darling of the family, but Mae baby is definitely our darling at present.  Our night-time routine is for Jeremiah to do story and prayer time with Pace, Mary Aplin, and Jay Paul, while I give Mae her bath and get her swaddled and ready for bed.  There is a moment when I walk from the nursery to the stairs and pass by the door where all four of my other loves are piled on the bed.  Jeremiah’s story is always interrupted by squealing requests for kisses from Mae.  Sometimes they can’t wait for me to take the 6 steps from the hallway to their bed and a queue forms at my feet, each waiting impatiently for their moment with our girl.  Other times their Daddy holds them at bay so that Mae can join them all on the bed for a blanket of kisses all at once–a free-for-all to see who can get closest to her face.  If I have moments where I fret for Mae, being the baby of four, worrying that she doesn’t get the same attention that the other babies have received from Jeremiah and me…those moments are reversed by these.  When I realize that no amount of love we give could equal the sum of love she receives from her sisters and brother.

I am going to keep this short, since Mae just had a birth story and doesn’t require a RE-introduction, but I wanted to include a part of a poem that I read recently.  It is by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and it resonated with me, as though a grown Mae were whispering in my ear.  The fact that Jay Paul gave MyMae her nickname, is what–I believe–made this section of a poem called “The Name” stand out to me:

…My brother gave that name to me
When we were children twain;
When names acquired baptismally
Were hard to utter as to see
That life had any pain.

No shade was on us then, save one
Of chestnuts from a hill–
And through the word our laugh did run
As part thereof! The mirth being done,
He calls me by it still!

Nay, do not smile! I hear in it
What none of you can hear;
The talk upon the willow seat,
The bird and wind that did repeat
Around, our human cheer!

I hear the birthday’s noisy bliss,
My sister’s woodland glee,–
My father’s praise, I did not miss,
What time he stooped down to kiss
The poet at his knee,…

So when Lauren told me, after Mary Aplin was born, that my children would rotate who would be my most difficult to handle at different times–I believed her.  And she was right…for a while.  Mary Aplin rocked me senseless as a newborn, but then Pace climbed into the terrible two’s–making the tiny baby who couldn’t move and get into every cabinet in the house, suddenly seem like a breeze.  Then Mary Aplin was into everything and Pace was “older” and easy.  Then Pace went to school and had things like sight-words and math, so Mary Aplin was easy…  Lauren, unfortunately, has not been here in Dothan for Jay Paul, and I feel the need to tell her that one bit of her wisdom has now failed me.  Jay Paul has been my most difficult child every day of his life so far.  Nobody, including my newborn baby, has usurped him from that throne.

Jeremiah likes to tell me that I spoiled him more, but it is not the truth.  Jay Paul may have wrapped my heart up in his tiny little fist at birth, but I did not make him needy and unable to sleep.  Mae has reassured me of this fact.  I had started to doubt, since there is an (almost) 4 year gap between he and Mary Aplin, if I had done everything the same with him as I had with the girls?  Maybe I had gone soft?  But no.  Now that I have Mae, and I KNOW I’m doing the same things with her as I did with Baybus, I feel reassured that I am not to blame.  He was born a handful…and so loveable that you forgive him for it immediately.  Maddening!

Until Mae was born, Jay Paul lived on my hip.  As long as I was around, he didn’t want anything to do with anybody else.  It was exhausting.  Utterly exhausting for a woman hugely pregnant, but I consoled myself with the fact that we loved each other–he and I.  Then, Mae was born, and Jay Paul was forced to spend some significant time with other people.  Through this I saw that it was not so much me that he loved with undying affection, as he needed somebody to cling to.  After spending three or four days with Mama B, he will shoo me away and cling to her neck when I come to pick him up.  After a weekend spent with Daddy, he is all about trucks and “the shack” and pretends not to notice that I am alive.  And so, one by one he takes more people under his spell.  Because, you see, to be loved by Jay Paul may be exhausting but it is also exhilarating.

Right now, we are struggling with the fact that he wants to beat and hit on everything.  Constantly.  And it is all the better if he can use a long lever arm to beat with.  The broom is a particular favorite.  He grabs the broom and runs through the house, hitting walls, furniture, mirrors–anything that might make a new sounding BOOM when struck.  Unfortunately, his hitting does not exclude people, and he gets in trouble almost every time he goes to MMO for hitting and wrestling with the other children.  I have tried distracting him.  I have tried time outs.  I have tried spanking…and none of it seems to work.  The beating continues.

On the up side, Jay Paul loves My Mae–as he often calls her.  Adores her.  Thinks she is the most precious object in the house, and the only object for which he has tried to grasp the term “gentle”.  If he can reach her, he’s kissing her hands, her feet, her head.  He wants to hold her all the time, and if I prop her in his lap he will sit there with a dreamy grin on his face, still as a statue, until I take her off.  It doesn’t matter if she screams and squirms (and she usually does), he wants her right there.  Big brother may be even more protective of Mae Baby than Daddy.  The Lord be with her.

He’s My Boy–my one and only.  His hugs and kisses bring joy and happiness to my life like nothing else.  His “Dennis the Menace” qualities exhaust me but who would want a little boy to sit quietly and be good all the time?  We want boys to be boys…don’t we?  We just want to survive them.