Yes.  Yes, it is.  

This.  Is.  My.  Life.

It was a lovely evening, just 5 short nights ago.  Eleven ‘o clock was fast approaching.  The evening news faded and my eyes were weighted with the heaviness that comes from a much-lived day.  That’s when I heard it.  The pitter-pat on the stairs.  (I thought they were all long fast asleep.)  

It was Lovey.  Her eyes welling with tears.  “There’s a bee in my nose!”  What???  “There’s a bee in my nose and it really hurts!”  Again… what???  I assumed she meant a wasp, because just the day prior, I had bested a nasty one by means of a corn-husk broom and a Hello Kitty flip-flop.  But still… could it really have stung her in the nose?  

The Man was there.  He asked her one more time.  “What is the meaning of this?”  

“There.  Is.  A.  BEAD.  In.  My.  Nose.  And.  It.  HURTS!!!  Waaaaaahhhhh!!!”  Tears were flowing freely by this point.  Good grief.  *sigh*  I think I would have much preferred the bee/wasp scenario.  I have heard of kids doing such things and honestly, considering the nature of my sweet Lovey, I should count my blessings that we haven’t dealt with this sooner.  Keeping my full-on panic at bay, I told The Man we have to take her in.  There was no other way.  

The Man was not happy.  The Man glared.  The Man disappeared.  The Man reappeared.  With a flash light.  Lovey howled as he inspected the damage.  “It’s past the sellion,” The Man declared.  (Yes. I had to spell check that word.  Several times.  And bonus points to the The Man for using it properly in a sentence.)

Okay… pretty sure I didn’t know what a sellion was, but I still voted for the ER.  

“I am not driving into town at 11:00 pm.  There IS another way,” declared The Man.  Spoken like a man who had labored all the live-long day and was dying to go play a video game.  All the while, Lovey is crying her ornery little heart out.  

The Man was not happy.  The Man scowled.  The Man disappeared (longer this time.)  The Man reappeared.  But not empty-handed.  Oh no.  He wielded a most frightening contraption beginning with a disassembled balloon pump and ending with my vacuum cleaner. 

Full-on panic was no longer at bay.  I couldn’t watch.  

“You’re going to suck her brains out!!!” I cried.   

“I promise not to suck her brains out,” he mumbled.  

I retreated to the other room for the “procedure.”  The deafening sounds hearkened me back to a time when I was barely 16 and my hard contact lens was running amok on my eyeball.  The darn thing was suctioned to my eye with a death grip and I was at a loss.  My dad emerged with vacuum specialty of his own, only his version involved panty hose and a rubber band.  “Please don’t suck my eye ball out!” I cried.  “I won’t suck your eyeball out,” he mumbled.  But I digress…

Moments later, the gangly pair emerged.  Brains intact.  Bead in hand.  

The Man played his game.  Lovey and I cuddled on the couch.  And all was right with the world.

I’m not sure there’s a moral to this story other than the fact that I have men in my life who do strange and sometimes helpful things with a vacuum.  

Thank God for coffee.

The offender.

 Love & Coffee.

It’s Daddy Day.  

One year ago we still had no idea we would be adding sweet #4 to the gaggle of girls we have going on here at home.  Instead of me blathering on like usual, I thought this post might be better off left to the kids.  (Of course, with a little commentary in the appropriate places.  So without further ado and completely unedited…)

Peanut is 9.  Ladybug is 6.  Lovey is 3, nearly 4.  And Cupcake is 3 1/2 months.   

(You can read more about our sweet family by checking out my new and improved “About Me” page!)

1. What is something Dad always says to you?
Peanut – I think you’re awesome and you’re beautiful.
Ladybug – I love you.
Lovey – Pick up your room.
Cupcake – (*blows raspberry*)

2. What makes Dad happy?
Peanut – Making a card.
Ladybug – Us.
Lovey – Kisses.  Cleaning our rooms.  Heart pictures.
Cupcake – (*gurgle*)

3. What makes Dad sad?
Peanut – Not obeying.
Ladybug – Not having us.
Lovey – When we don’t clean up our rooms.  (You got that right!)
Cupcake – (*more gurgling*)

4. How does Dad make you laugh?
Peanut – Saying something weird.
Ladybug – Silly jokes.
Lovey – Monsters with stretchy hair.  (I have no idea what she is saying.)
Cupcake – (*gummy grin*)

5. What was Dad like as a child?
Peanut – Being really cute.
Ladybug – He had a bunny and a great family.
Lovey – He took baths and read books like a pretty girl.  (Someone is being silly…)
Cupcake –  (*coo*)

6. How old is Dad?  
Peanut – 32.  (Close.)
Ladybug – 32   (Ummm… still close.)
Lovey – 3 like me.  (Not quite.)
Cupcake –  (*drooling*)

(He is 33.)

7. How tall is Dad?
Peanut – 3 or 4 feet.  (Not even tall enough to ride the roller coaster.)
Ladybug – Bigger than you.  (This is true.)
Lovey – This big.  (*arms outstretched as big as they will go*)
Cupcake – (*more drooling*  Perhaps it’s time to run and get the burp rag?)

8. What is his favorite thing to do?
Peanut – Talk and hang out.
Ladybug – Play with us.
Lovey – Put lotion on his face.  Or eat lotion.  (Lovey, I think YOU are the one who eats lotion…)
Cupcake – (*Mommy wiping the chin*)

9. What does Dad do when you’re not around?
Peanut – Eat chocolate.  (Maybe his secret stash is not quite so secret…)
Ladybug – Work most of the time.
Lovey – Leave and play games.
Cupcake – (*blows another raspberry*)

10. If your Dad becomes famous, what will it be for?
Peanut – Hunting.
Ladybug – Discovering fossils.  (Mmmm… okay.)
Lovey – He would kill pink dinosaurs with a gun.  (Oh, honey…)
Cupcake – (*still blowing raspberries*)

11. What is your Dad really good at?
Peanut – Making monkey fists.  (To clarify, this is a little contraption The Man makes out of paracord.  It IS pretty cool.)
Ladybug – Making bracelets.  (To clarify further, The Man sometimes makes survival “arm bands” also out of paracord.  You know… just to clarify.)
Lovey – Doing his computer.
Cupcake – (*Mommy pops in the pacifier to stop the raspberry spittle*)

12. What is your dad not very good at?
Peanut – Feeding the baby.  (Ha!  Yes.)
Ladybug – Basketball.  (I don’t recall ever seeing The Man play basketball so I’m sure this is true.)
Lovey – Trying to run fast like me.  (No.  One.  Runs as fast as you, Lovey.)
Cupcake – (*finally passed out cold from all that drooling and raspberry blowing*)

13. What does your dad do for his job?
Peanut – Plans all the fun games.
Ladybug – Youth pastor.
Lovey – Works on a pink computer.   (Wishful thinking, my dear one.)
Cupcake – (*still snoozing*)

14. What is your dad’s favorite food?
Peanut – Steak.  (Yes!)
Ladybug – Chicken.  (More yes!)
Lovey – A bean stalk with magic beans.  (What???) 
Cupcake – (*zzzzzzzzzz*)

15. What makes you proud of your dad?
Peanut – He helps give me a great birthday.
Ladybug – Because he is our dad.
Lovey – When he comes home.  (I’m glad he comes home, too.)
Cupcake – (*zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*)

16. If Dad were on TV, who would he be?
Peanut – A survivor guy like on Man vs. Wild.  (Most likely!)
Ladybug – A clown.  (He does tell some amazing knock-knock jokes.)
Lovey – A girl mermaid with pink hair.  (Okay, I think someone is done with these questions.)
Cupcake – (*zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz… restless legs begin kung fu fighting… zzzzzzzzz*)

17. What do you and your dad do together?
Peanut – Play Minecraft.
Ladybug – Go on dates.
Lovey – I sit on his lap and watch him do games with Ichtar Tarpick.  (Lovey always says Daddy plays “Ichtar” with his “Tarpick.”  Say it out loud.  Get it yet?  The Man thought it was worthy of a Guild Wars character.  I don’t care what it is, but the next animal we get seriously has to be named Ichtar.)
Cupcake – (*zzzzzzzzz… toot! Zzzzzzz….*  Oh.  No.)

18. How are you and your dad the same?
Peanut – We both have allergies.
Ladybug – We play on the computer.
Lovey – Our hair.  (*sigh*)
Cupcake – (*Toot.  Toot.  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz*  Come on, we’re almost done here.)

19. How are you and your dad different?
Peanut – I am not a boy.
Ladybug – I play with toys.  He plays with a computer.  (Wait.  Doesn’t this directly contradict your prior statement?)
Lovey – I shake my booty.  (*shaking my head*)
Cupcake – (*gummy grin*  Well, I’m glad someone is enjoying this….)

20. How do you know your dad loves you?
Peanut – Because we’re his kids.
Ladybug – Because he’s our daddy.
Lovey – In my heart.
Cupcake – (*blows another raspberry*  Annnnnddd… it’s off to the changing table we go.)

All that to say…

Happy Father’s Day to the best daddy in town.  You make us smile.

Love & Coffee.

For The Man.

So you’re not into cards.  Here you go:

Happy Anniversary.  

11 years.  (Does this make us old yet?)

10 of them with kids.  (What exactly did we do with our time when we were always saying we were busy before they got here?  Yeah, I don’t know either.)


9 vehicles.  (Remember when the ’72 AMC Hornet died?  Again.  And me “pushing” it down Fleur Drive with the Lumina?  Those were the days.)

8 houses.  (Wowza!  We should stop moving.  Like, seriously.)

7 cell phones. (When we got married, we still had phones with antennas you had to extend to make a call.  And we thought text messages were ridiculous.  Who in their right mind would ever do that???  It will never catch on…)

6 in the family.  (We’ve multiplied ourselves times three!  Now THAT is something.)

5 trips to ER for your fish allergy.  (I think we have learned some very valuable lessons here.  Let’s not tempt fate in the future… and that’s all I will say about that.)

4 daughters.  (So last year at this time, who knew there would be four???  Ha!)

3 snow shovels.  (Maybe this year we’ll stop misplacing the previous year’s shovel and not buy another new one.  Or maybe we’ll just stop moving reducing our chances of misplacing it in the first place.  In some cultures, three snow shovels might bring good luck.  Or it might just mean we have an astonishing amount of snow shovels.)

2 star-crossed lovers.  (Well, most days.  Some days I’m just cross.  But kiss me and do the dishes and that will usually turn things around.)

1 bottle of Fuzzy Peach Perfume Oil from the Body Shop.  (I know it’s your favorite.  And they don’t make it anymore.  But I’ll still let you sniff the bottle, because we are celebrating something special.)

I said all that to say this…

I.  Love.  You.

So hey.  I’m back.  I just can’t stand it anymore–the whole “not writing” thing.  I do not care if my life is psycho crazy right now.  Write, I must.  I guess it’s not so much crazy as I just never have two seconds without a little person (or occasionally a man-sized person) who wants (needs?) something from me.  

A glass of milk.  
A silly song.  
Snacks.  
A roll of toilet paper.  (Oh, yeah.  *Scribbling toilet paper onto this afternoon’s grocery list.*)   
Help with math homework.  
Snacks.   
Finger unstuck from the van door.  (Yes, this really just happened.  To the tallest finger.  To the Lovey child who wants to show her boo-boo tall finger to everyone we know.  *sigh*) 

If I manage to get a shower with mascara and lip gloss applied, and cup of coffee before I hear the band of angels tromping down the stairs in the morning, we will call it a good day.  

As a child, I wasn’t necessarily the most athletic.  It was that awkward stage right about fifth grade.  I had these amazingly large glasses that rendered me rather owl-like.  My favorite outfit included a white blazer with tropical fruit on it which I wore for my class picture that year.  Circa 1991.  

As you might imagine, gym class was not exactly my thing.  Really not my thing.  One cloudy day, our class headed out to the ball field for a game of baseball.  Ugh. I sauntered to the outfield, not expecting to do anything but stand there until the next inning.  I couldn’t run.  And I couldn’t catch.  I am 97.3% I was daydreaming about “New Kids on the Block,” when I realized the ball was coming my way.  I am not sure what I was thinking other than the fact that, “I might be able to actually catch that thing!”  I started running after the ball.  And running.  And running.  And… running?  Shouldn’t gravity be kicking in by now?  I hear my name.  I assume they are cheering me on.  I run harder.  “Come back!  Where are you going?”  It dawns on me as the “ball” gracefully darts across the street and nests in a nearby tree.  A bird!!???  To this day, I still don’t know how I could possibly have made such a ridiculous mistake.

And that is a little like my life right now.  Chasing after something I will never catch.  My days start out with a list like this:

To Do:  

Laundry
Dishes
Pay the Bills
Mop the floor
Vaccuum
Scrub the bathtub
Blog
Return calls
Pack away girls’ too-small clothes 
Upload pics from camera to computer
Update baby book
Make dentist appointments

And this what I actually get done:

Start a load of laundry.
Feed baby.
Diaper change.
Feed kids breakfast.
Feed baby.
Diaper change.
Oops!  Forgot to switch laundry to dryer.
Feed kids snack.
Feed baby. 
Diaper change.
Feed kids lunch.
Oh yeah.  Still forgot to switch the laundry.
Feed baby.
Diaper change.
Feed kids snack.
Feed baby.
Diaper change.
Feed everyone dinner.
Start dishwasher.
Feed baby.
Diaper change.
Collapse into bed of complete exhaustion and as I am drifting off to sleep…
DARN IT!  The laundry is still in the washer!

Oh well… at least everyone’s tall finger is still intact.

Love & Coffee.

“I look up to the mountains;
    does my strength come from mountains?
No, my strength comes from God,
    who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.”

Ps. 121.1-2 (MSG)

Everything has changed.  

My sweet Cupcake is 8 weeks old today and I finally feel as though we are stumbling out of that newborn-induced delirium and into real life again.  Like swinging open a grand door and breathing fresh air again.  I have savored these sweet moments hidden away with my precious angels.  Late-night feedings bathed in dim lamp-light, too-early morning snuggles watching the news with the big girls, and daily breakfast in our jammies.  Even so, I look forward to gradually reacquainting myself with schedules, routines, and commitments, yet immersed in fresh perspective.

There seems to be order.  Yet not.  It’s different.  You see, I am the sort of person who puts everything in her closet in rainbow order.  (Yes.  ROYGBIV.)  And arranges my spice rack in alphabetical order.  (Embarrassing, I know.)  Even my socks are carefully sorted by color, season, and type. 

Now that I have had four babies, I have learned a thing or two along the way.  The passage of time never slows, only picking up speed with each passing moment.  My babies won’t be babies forever.  And while I sometimes miss the sense of accomplishment and self-worth that can be found in certain jobs and tasks, I simply cannot hurry back to them.  People say, “When are you coming back?”  “When will you do ‘such and such?'”  “It’s different without you.”  And while all those sentiments flatter, none of those jobs seem to matter much to me at the moment.  

My family needs me.  And I need them even more.  

I am cooking again.  Real food.  Oh, how I missed the tasty artistry that thrives in a warm kitchen.  Lovey continually stands at my side, asking for the step stool so she can “help” in the simplest of ways.  Her smallish hand laid gently across mine “helps” me scoop the sugar or sprinkle cinnamon.  Ladybug lingers in my bed after early-morning cuddles fritter away a bad dream.  I spy Peanut hiding away, gripped by yet another Nancy Drew adventure.  Cupcake greets me with innocent smiles and the hint of a giggle.   

Who would trade this?

Because I have temporarily stepped back from my commitments outside of our home, I find myself experiencing life in a fresh way.  I arrive here and there at different times, meeting new people (and consequently missing others).  I sit in a different spot at church and go to the library on a different day of the week.  Grocery day now requires the precision coordination of a military exercise (with a fair amount of coffee beforehand) and my favorite jeans still don’t fit quite the way they used to. 

And honestly, it’s rather refreshing.  

Love & Coffee.

“See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland.”

Isaiah 43.19 (NIV)

They seem to be in plentiful supply these days.  And oh, how I love unsolicited kisses.  You know, the ones that come completely out of nowhere.  Unexpected.  Impromptu.  And entirely sincere.

Unsolicited kisses.

They come from my Sweet Pea baby, sloppy and wet.  They come from my Lovey, wild and untamed.  They come from my Ladybug, sweet and tender.  They come from my half-grown, Peanut, albeit restrained and heartfelt.  And they come from The Man, always welcome and anticipated. 

And God sends them, too.

They come in an early sunrise, fresh and warm.  They come in a morning walk, brisk and bold.  They come in melodious birdsong, joyful and bright.

Heaven-sent.

There is no shortage of love to go around here.  New life to be celebrated and milestones to be marked.  Spring is springing and cabin fever will soon be put to rest.  I believe I even shed a tear or two this morning over my coffee, watching last year’s kittens prowl about the lawn.  Life is churning and plodding on all around me.  I could blame it on the current sleep shortage in our home (Sweet Pea seems to be a night owl thus far), but really it’s just too wildly beautiful when you think about it.  

Plan for the day:

Daydreaming of uninterrupted slumber.  Sipping a cozy coffee.  And savoring sweet kisses, unsolicited.  


Love & Coffee. 

She’s here.  

Really here.

All eight pounds nine ounces of ooey, gooey snuggle stuff.  

As of 8:21 AM on February 27, 2013, my sweet little Muffin is here.  

The doctor tried to send me back home.  Ninety minutes back home in a treacherous Iowa snow storm.  She didn’t believe me.  I begged her to think again.  After a generous amount of cajoling, we were a go.  

We sailed downtown to the hospital on literal sheets of ice in a blinding snowstorm, nearly taking out the 6th Street bridge.  But we made it.  I knew it would take some time and The Man still had to take the three princesses to a friend’s house.  That would be a good hour of driving on a decent day.  We decided it best for the four of them to wait it out at a hotel until morning and make a run for it then.  There were no plans to induce me until morning. 

(Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails. Proverbs 19.21 NIV)

Things quickly changed around 3:00 am when my water broke and I was really in the thick of it.  My nurse looked me square in the eye declaring, “Honey, this ain’t your first rodeo.  You better call your husband.”  

We were still well within the throes of a good old-fashioned Iowa storm.  The Man was taken back by this drastic turn of events, but what could we do?  He wrangled the kids together in the wee hours of the morning and braved treacherous roads to get them where they needed to be so he could join me.  I tortured myself with worry, weathering contractions, and distracting myself with late-night 80s sitcoms on the television.

And when I couldn’t take it anymore, I called Mom.  And she came.  And she let me squeeze the living daylights out of her hand through every bone-crushing contraction while we waited.

And then… he came.  Just in time.  And then the tears came.  Of joy.  Of relief.  Of impending pain.  And Princess Number Four made entrance shortly thereafter. 

Now, we are home.  And happy.  And healthy.  And virtually sleepless.  But never happier.  And they are very good things to come.  Good, good things.  



Thank God—he’s so good.
    His love never quits!

Psalm 118.29 (MSG)