Kiddos

Tristan is rolling every which way on the rug. Front to back, back to front, he's got it. He got the back to front last week. Now he is working on grabbbing his ankles while on his back, a feat not appreciated when practices in his sleep because then I am usually getting kicked. Last night at our Lessons and Carols service he sat by Heidi and was such a darling baby. Only peep he made was the gulp of astonishment whenever he saw something interesting.
My little Tryn tells me that she will grow up to be a bigger girl. Also, there is only ONE girl in this family and TWO babies, right mama. Thats a statement, not a question. Sometimes you just hug 'em to hope that their cells can't divide for at least a minute. I told Tristan he can just stay like this for awhile for me. Annika is learning that screaming, "NO!" scream, scream, etc. is not an availible response to mama's instructions. Last night she kept trying to saying the God part of the liturgical response, "thanks be to God" but it always ended up after everyone else. I turned my head to grab the diaper bag and she was off. I couldn't find her and some friends helped....she turned up in the men's bathroom. She sees me and says, "diaper change" like "where were you mom?"
OH, vacation is almost here. I can't wait for the break. 16 days back home. Aunties and a Grammy and Grampy to hold babies and entertain. Maybe I'll even get to see Narnia! Even better, I'll get to see my husband again!

Despairing

Yes, so we managed to get to the merry go round only because my dear husband was very patient while I tried moving my despairing self. I have tried to blame my attitude on Christmas burnout, a sore back, family frustration, my perceptions of whether my husband was listening or not.
Today God has granted me a look at my own self pity and inert worrying. Despair. I am despairing because I am looking to myself to handle hard situations, or those that don't go my way (the best way, of course) instead of falling at the throne of grace and trying not to land on that plank in my eye.
Now if we can only get to noticing that habit before the house falls down around and I am in full out sniping contentious stubborn pitful woman!

A Few More Pictures

Butteryfly My three chitlins

The first picture is of the sisters watching sesame street....they were sitting together in the rocking chair when I found them. Too cute.

Is it Christmas Yet?

As we walked past the downtown Santa hut at Nordstroms, I had to say, "Jesus doesn't make you wait in line." Stefan noted that there were no pictures, though. Note, a middle aged woman and her three almost grown sons with finely tuned sweaters were cheesing for their I can only suppose annual shot.
We did do the merry go round and the girls were so excited. As not really illustrated in this picture.
I finally figured out how to post a picture though!

Blog Blog

Hearing of various sibling trials and troubles, I start to wonder how we had the same parents. I have two sisters and three brothers, all younger. Without a doubt I asked for and got most of the spankings and phew, I am glad for that! (I wish I had more!)
My mom said it is harder for her to have adult children, a big pit in her stomach now. I kinda remember when my parents burned out on parenting...it was about the same time they both started smoking again, sometime while I was in college. Almost ten years now they have copped out on their duties, claiming they can't say much to their 'adult' children. (Yet my mom has no trouble telling me where to to go, go figure...she knows that I will take it.)
So I see my sister just not having any principled Biblical thinking, no moral compass for her decision making, and I just gotta wonder what happened?! It boggles my mind that she is such a humanist. We sat at the same breakfast, lunch, and dinner table. We did and went pretty much everywhere together (until I went to 'real' school my senior year) How can we think so differently?
I have these two little girls, with such individuality and yet so similar and close. The long haul of mothering them has been made real to me as of late. I am only three years in to this gig. What are the critical elements in parenting children who grow up believers as opposed to a mixed or simply pagan bag? I am a firm believer in election, so it is God knows and works and saves....it won't be me "leading" my kids to Christ and just hoping. I know God promises me that he saves in generations. My heart sees Tryn already understanding that she needs Jesus. I am seeing that it's the day to day, that is where the rubber hits the road. The struggle to remain humbly submitting to God in diligence and prayer and faith, continuing to strive to give God the glory and not turn that subtly into a me thing too. God knows who He is, he does not need us to give Him glory. We are priveleged to have good works to walk in that he already knows about.
So, the burnout really scares me. Complicating this thought has been the observation of a few 50ish ladies lately harangued by guilt, weary from everything, and feeling that their brains are failing them. This is not a place of peace! Their fading graying heads seem defeated, uncertain and full of unnatural highlights. What sets apart the women who know themselves and those who are still trying to figure it out at 50? This I ponder. I have been reading a book called Captivating by Stasi Eldredge. It is the most practical book I have ever read on why we women are so screwed up and what heals us. The premise is that women ask one central question about themselves, "am I beautiful?" We try to find the answer to that question from our fathers, boyfriends, husbands. It isn't about outer beauty exclusively; we ask if who we are is lovely. The easy and complicated answer is that God has created each of us a uniquely beautiful reflection of His beauty....the only place to get a consistent answer to our question is Jesus. We tend to fluctuate between despairing and addicting ourselves to pick me ups. More later.

Running Away

Annika is getting surprised by my consistency this week. She was disobedient and I went to pick her up, so she turned tail and took off, heading aroung the table, saying "running away, running away!" as if speeding up her words would will her pumping arms and legs faster.
How is life. Well, a two day trip to Iowa for a funeral of Great Grampa this week was certainly difficult. The traveling was smooth, but relationships with in-laws are just bumpy. We were inundated with midwestern food (a blessing and a curse) Can you say tater tot casserole? Jello salads? Folgers with no cream? Ham buns, buttered, with american cheese? Lasagna made with cottage cheese? Taverns (sloppy joes) too. The casseroles (or hot dishes) reigned supreme and it was good comfort food, albeit kinda funny. We had cheesy hash brown casserole souped up with jalapenos, a new and improved twist. In many ways, it was like being at my dutch grammas' house for a family dinner. Minus the corned beef buns.
Tristan is trying out all manner of new sounds, cooing and charming anyone who holds him. He was a champion of good naturedness until we got home. Annika was busy smiling at everyone she could, making friends as we walked down the narrow aisles of the airplanes. We're trying to haul all this crap to our seats and she is busy taking in all the people and waving to them! Tryn was happy with a Dora coloring book the whole time....a switch from having to entertain her.
So Christmas minutae is still awaiting completion and the crunch comes.