"Group" Photo

On my birthday last month, I pulled out the camera to show my parents a few photos of the kids. Well, any time I pull out the camera, the kids both begin clamoring for an opportunity to take pictures themselves. (And, I must admit, sometimes they take some decent shots.) Anyway, this was no exception.

Leah immediately wanted to play photographer and family historian; in her most authoritative voice, she commanded, "Okay, everybody get together so I can take your picture." Well, who wouldn't obey an order such as that coming from an almost-five-year-old? We all complied (my parents, Scott, myself, and Hunter), standing close together for the group shot.

"Okay, now I'm going to take your pictures. Nama first," Leah replied. Yes, her "group" photo was more like several individual photos that could be grouped together. (See for yourself below.)

Mom's laughing because of Leah's concept of a "group" photo.

Of course, because Daddy covered his face, Hunter had to do the same.

Snow Days... Enough Already!

Though the kids have enjoyed the snow, I do believe they are tired of it. Perhaps that's due to the extreme cold that has accompanied the white stuff this year. Despite bundling up, the kids are lucky to last 5 minutes! (Seriously, the last snow we had Hunter didn't even last that long!) Know when they did play in the snow? When it was 40 something degrees out. Go figure. Below shows the extent to which we played in the snow (these were from the Valentine's Day snow). Come on Spring!

The Hulk gets ready to venture into the snow.

Like the snow fort that "we" built? More like, I built it while the kids ate snow. They do deserve some credit, though; they painted the fort using colored water.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't have said "kids"; more like, while Leah ate snow. Forget playing in it. She just wanted to eat it.

See what I mean? I had at least 2 other photos of her doing the same thing.

At least Hunter played (or tried not to fall down).

Guess what she's doing here?

Hunter tries a bit of snow, too. Must be good if Leah's eating so much of it, right?

Christmas in January

Considering how far behind I am in posting lately, is it any wonder that I'm just NOW posting photos from our Christmas trip to NY? And when I say Christmas trip, I really mean our trip in January to celebrate a belated Christmas.

We drove up the first Sunday in January (the week of the polar vortex on the East coast) through snow and freezing rain. The rain coated our car in ice, making for slow going. At one point, the ice was a couple inches thick on the windshield wipers and edges of the windshield! Most of the bad weather was in MD and PA; once we crossed over into NY, the precipitation was primarily just rain. (There was snow on the ground, though, an important detail to note for later.)

After dinner Sunday night, we celebrated Christmas with Scott's parents and Grandma. Hunter definitely understood what that meant this year! He and Leah both were eager to open gifts, but were patient (enough) to wait their turns, too.

Monday morning when we woke up, bitterly cold temperatures greeted us... but no snow! The rain had melted it all during the night. So much for taking the kids sledding while we were there. No matter. The kids enjoyed playing with their grandmothers during the day. That evening, Scott's brother and his wife and their kids came over so that the cousins could exchange Christmas gifts. (So, keeping track? Two nights of gifts.) Leah, Kate, and Mila had a blast together, while Hunter and Cam tried working out how to share (not exactly the easiest thing for 2-year-olds to do).

Tuesday afternoon, the cousins came over again so that they could have a chance to play again (since they don't see each other too much, they cherish those moments together). Hunter immediately assumed (as any 2.5-year-old might) that meant MORE gifts. He sat down on my lap and said, "I'm ready to open presents now."

The rest of our trip was filled with plenty of play time with the grandparents, a trip to Great Grandma Teddy's house, and just time relaxing together as a family before we had to venture home on Friday. Though we couldn't play outside at all because it was too cold (below 0 on a couple days) and the snow had melted, we enjoyed ourselves. (Oh, we did see more snow before we left: There was probalby a good 2-3 inches on the ground Friday morning as we packed up to leave. No matter. We've certainly had our fill of snow back home in VA now!)

Hunter playing with Great Grandma Teddy. Hunter adores his Grandma Teddy (I still think it's because he was born on his Great Grandpa's birthday). Scott walked out to see what they were playing, and Hunter said, "Go away, Daddy."

Leah, Grandma Teddy, and Hunter

Grandma Mel was exercising, so Leah wanted to also.

Scott helps Hunter exercise, too.

Mila, Leah, Kate, & Cam. (Hunter ran out of the room and refused to come back for the photo.)

The "silly" picture

Swim Lessons

The other day when I went upstairs to get the kids up from their rest, I discovered Hunter and Leah playing "Care Bear swim lessons" in Hunter's room. That means nothing to you, I understand, so let me give a few more details:

Hunter was wearing his "bathing suit" (dinosaur undies, sans diaper) and standing in the "pool" (the middle drawer of his dresser) while (I'm assuming) his "coach" (Leah) told him what to do.

Upon removing him from the "pool", I went to my room to do some cleaning, leaving the swimmers to continue their "lessons" elsewhere. And that's exactly what they did. I peeked out of my room and saw that Leah now had a swimsuit on, and was "swimming" on in her mattress "pool". Hunter, also had a swimsuit on: Leah's. He had pulled on up to his waist, and then managed to place his legs through the arm holes, effectively rendering it completely ineffective in terms of covering anything.

The scene that greeted me when I peeked out of our bedroom.

This was the "baby pool". When I tried taking a picture of Hunter, he ran into the baby pool and closed the doors. 

Leah demonstrating her swimming technique.

Endurance

Some of you who actually follow my blog may not know that since having Hunter, I've had thyroid issues. Finally, this past fall, I received a diagnosis: Hashimoto's and mild hyperthyroiditis (how they co-exist, I still don't understand, but that's for another post). Since then, I have been trying to combat the symptoms (and ultimately the cause, if that's really even possible) through natural means (oils) in an effort to avoid taking medication (hormones). As part of my research, I've found several persons/sites that recommend changing my diet to combat my condition. Since Hashimoto's is an auto-immune disease, the thinking is that if I remove inflammatory foods from my diet, then my body will ultimately heal itself.

And so I decided to embark on a detox starting February 1 and continuing until the end of the is week (Feb. 21). My purpose was to find out if God wants me to change my diet, and if so, how. The two that I've read about suggest two different approaches: one suggests going gluten-free, and the other is a more restrictive Paleo diet. (In either instance, I'd have to cut out the baked goods that I so love.) Anyway, the detox I'm following (the Daniel Fast) is a vegan diet with more restrictions, but accompanied by Bible study/prayer three times a day. And prayer is making all the difference.

See, I've been praying for healing, for guidance about my diet, and for self-control, but God is working on answering another prayer that I hadn't even proffered as a goal: endurance. Today is Day 16 of my detox/fast, and let me tell you, I really want some bread (I can't have leavened bread on this fast). I want some so badly that I was thinking of ending the fast early just so that I could eat some. (When I put this in writing, it seems so silly.) Granted, I am allowing myself to add certain foods back into my diet now, but that's due to health reasons. Still, that's not a reason to automatically include EVERYTHING (sugar, caffeine, carbs) all at once.

So... endurance. I had a moment of epiphany today while I was simultaneously pining away for a fresh loaf of bread and calling on God to help me resist the temptation: He wants me to endure, just a few more days. That's it. One day at a time. Though it feels like I'll never have another baked good again, I will, just not today. But the beauty is that I don't have to resist it on my own strength; He is my strength. When I call on Him in my moments of weakness, He will fill me with resolve, reminding me that there's something better than giving in to the temptation.

And isn't life about endurance? Scott's long weeks at work require me to endure; I don't get to shut down right after dinner, for I still need to get the kids cleaned up and put them to bed. I have to endure and persevere. On the weekends (when he's working, and I'm definitely ready to have his help again), I have to endure, getting the kids ready for and to church on time; getting them up from their rests and out the door to Awana; getting them fed and then ready for bed. When I think about venturing into full-time homeschooling this fall and all the sacrifices that will entail, I must endure. Yes, there will be times when I'll want to give in to the temptations (lamenting the lack of down time; wishing for a day free of making school plans; ignoring the needs of the house or complaining about what isn't getting done), but God is teaching me now to prepare to endure.

And so, as I finish this fast/detox, I'm choosing to endure, to persevere. To take each day separately, and each trial as it comes, knowing that God is with me, rooting me on to victory. And whether or not I receive an answer to my health, I know that whatever He calls me to, He will equip me for success.

Out with the Old...

stove, that is. And the timing was perfect (note the sarcasm): December 31. Mind you, we didn't want a new stove or plan for one, but we have a new one now regardless.


So, I was baking in preparation for New Year's Day dinner at my parents' house. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nope, just two dishes that I've made before.


Well, wouldn't you know it if the oven beeped and flashed an error message before turning off. Well, I ignored that message (read: don't ignore your oven's warning), and just re-started the oven (no comments necessary, I know). I DID at least locate the owner's manual, hoping it would contain a key to the error message. Silly me. The manual doesn't HAVE a code; it's advice in case of a warning message? Contact your Sears service representative. (Like that was going to happen Dec. 31.)


So I'm thumbing through the manual while in the kitchen, when the oven beeps and shuts off again, but this time, there's smoke pouring out of it. POURING. Oh my! (Oh, one minor detail I failed to mention: guess who was at work?)


Not sure what I was thinking, but I opened the oven. I guess I was hoping I could grab whatever was smoking and take it outside. That wasn't the case; the oxygen fueled the fire (yes, FIRE), thus compounding the smoke. Since I couldn't safely remove the burning food, I did the only thing I could think of: I grabbed our fire extinguisher and blasted the fire. Mind you, by this time, the smoke alarms on the main floor and top floor were beeping (not a bad thing), the family room and kitchen were filled with smoke, and I was racing around the main floor opening doors and windows in an effort to air out the kitchen.


All of this happened in just a manner of minutes, so I didn't have much time to think, only react. When I called Scott, I broke down, thankful that it wasn't anything worse than a ruined oven and a smoke-filled family room. Thankful that Scott was comforting and understanding, and not in the least bit worried about buying a new stove. (He even called me back later that night to see how I was doing.) Thankful that my dad was home that day, so I took the kids over there to play while I cleaned up the mess. Thankful that Leah and Hunter were upstairs resting and napping, oblivious and SAFE from the debacle in the kitchen. And even thankful that Lowe's had a sale on appliances, saving us just a little money.


Take it from me: if your oven beeps at you, turn it off and call your oven repairman (unless you're hankering for a new stove).

A Visit with the Fat Man

We took Leah and Hunter to see Santa for the first time. Our initial attempt this season was unsuccessful; we happened to time it for Santa's break, and considering the sheer number of kids in the play area next to Santa's station in addition to where we were in his break (at the beginning of it), we decided to try again the next day.

So, Tuesday morning (last week), despite the steady snowfall outside, we again headed to the mall in the hopes of meeting St. Nick (or at least his helper). We hadn't told the kids what we were going to do; we wanted to surprise them. So when we returned to the same place as the night before, they were a bit disappointed... until we took a few more steps and asked, "Who's that over there?" "Santa!" came the excited reply.

The timing was perfect: absolutely no line, no waiting. As the kids were getting ready to approach, Leah turned to me saying, "I'm feeling a little shy. Don't leave me, Mommy," so I accompanied her and Hunter and helped them get situated on Santa's lap (but not before Leah suddenly overcame her shyness and gave Santa a big hug). I don't think the kids ever really told Santa what they wanted, not because Santa didn't try, but because he was trying to get them to smile and put them at ease. Hunter didn't smile much; he was so serious (though he's not a serious boy), but Leah was all smiles.

Now the bigger challenge is communicating that Santa isn't, well, you know, real. We don't celebrate Santa, even though we do like to talk about him and how he's fun to pretend, but Leah informed me the other night that Santa's going to bring her lots of toys for Christmas and fill her stocking. Hmmm, how do we combat this challenge?