This is the last family picture we'll have with six faces in the frame. Tim really dislikes whenever someone takes a picture and cuts off the bottom of our legs. He did ask our friend to rotate the phone and he got a couple more shots, but this one is still my favorite, the one I chose to share on social media. And not just because my "fankles" aren't showing, haha. I think everyone's smiles are the best.
Here we are, shoes and all. The kids were especially cooperative, which made me very happy.
We had another nice, quiet Easter at home, and we couldn't have asked for a more beautiful spring day.
I am very pleased with our little corner of the world. After weeks of scrutinizing different plants and fretting about whether they made it through the winter, I see most of them flourishing and there's so much color everywhere.
As much as I'm looking forward to getting to meet our newest little man, I am really enjoying these days too. I've been getting a lot done, or else getting Tim to get a lot done.😂 The thing I couldn't wait for us to do, which was to power wash the porches and everything on them, is now checked off the list. That was mostly Tim who did that. I brought the smaller things into the house and washed them, and I cleaned off every bulb of our string lights. After asking me a couple times, "Are you sure you want me to do this?" he power-washed the outdoor rug. It didn't take all that long to dry, and it looks brand new.
The last few weeks of pregnancy have been pretty good to me. I do wear out quickly, and I'm feeling the strain of carrying around almost 40 extra pounds, but I take every opportunity to rest. There's not a whole lot I HAVE to do besides shuttle children to and from school and various activities, and for that I'm grateful. Driving I can do. At Tim's insistence toward the beginning of this pregnancy, I hired a cleaner who comes every other week. A godsend. I just do light maintenance cleaning between her visits.
I'm still doing my workouts on the Daily Burn app, and just modifying or substituting exercises as needed. I've been getting regular chiropractic care. I've got just about everything I need for a baby, with the exception of a couple odds and ends. I even have the laborade popsicles ready to go in the freezer, the same ones I made and had while in labor with the other boys. At almost 38 weeks, I'm getting a little nervous about labor, but getting the news and pictures of my sister Grace's peaceful and joyful home waterbirth a few days ago has given me a fresh dose of encouragement -- like yes, I can do this again. See, she just did! Baby Israel has the best cheeks and chin, and looks perfectly squishable.
It still amazes me that eight months ago, I was so shocked by this pregnancy -- and not in a good way. It was like I cracked open a door, and then a giant gust of wind blew it off the hinges. It seemed so utterly unlikely as to be ridiculous. Now I am so grateful for this child I didn't know I wanted, maybe even needed; I feel like he's already changed me for the better.
We got the last thing we were waiting on to make this project complete, and I finally got a sunny afternoon to take "after" pictures. I love how it turned out!
These are the listing photos.
It was painted the same khaki shade as every other inch of the house's interior. Tim painted it right away, along with our bedroom, BM November Rain. That made kind of a difference, but not much. He was never happy with it. I said he could change the bathroom color if he must, but please leave the bedroom walls alone. It's still perfect in there.
Most of the other changes were things Tim did little by little: new light fixtures over the vanity, new vanity color, new hardware for cabinets and drawers, new faucets, and the thing that was a really nice surprise when I got back from Cincinnati this summer--a frame around the big vanity mirror. We didn't do the best job of documenting changes along the way. We hired a professional to redo the floor and tile, and that was a two-week process that was finished I guess right after Thanksgiving. Just as that was wrapping up, Tim repainted the walls to reflect his vision, a color called BM Navajo White. NOT to be confused with SW Navajo White. That's what he ended up with the first time, because that's what the guy at the paint counter wanted to give him. He didn't think it would make much of a difference, but yikes, it really did. It was like the color of margarine--yuck. I felt bad for him having to go back out and get the correct paint and do it over, but phew--that was more like it.
Tim documented this moment.
Then he upgraded the outlet covers, switch plates, and the toilet handle. The toilet handle! I didn't know that nice toilet handles and outlet covers were a thing, but now that I do, there's no going back. It's like Applebee's to my Wendy's.😄
The old shower glass did not survive the demolition process, so we had to order it new and wait a few weeks for it to arrive. Now that it's here we can say we have a finished product, a bathroom we'll be happy with for a long time to come.
The floor is ceramic and I got the runner from Boutique Rugs. I love their selection, and from what I've seen, you can always get at least 60% off.
The painting was a Christmas present from Delaney and Annie, who did it themselves. They, along with their dad, correctly assumed that it would mean way more to me to have wall art made by hand than just whatever they could have found at Hobby Lobby. I was beyond delighted to open this gift; I couldn't wait to hang it up.
The niche in the shower is so nice. I took them all out for the photo, but normally it is a handy place to keep all our products. All Tim's idea.
It's an amazing transformation, and I couldn't be happier with it.
Of all the things I thought I might eventually get around to documenting on this dusty old blog, one thing I never imagined I would again is a belly picture. Another pregnancy! Another teeny-tiny baby!
But here it is!! We are adding another baby boy to our crew in May.
I can't even tell you how many times I sat down to write this post, and the words deserted me. I have had so many words for so many things, big and small, over the years; and then this happens and I just don't even know where to begin.
Did we try for another baby or was it an accident? Well, kind of both.😆It's something we hemmed and hawed about from time to time since my six-week checkup after Joey, when my midwife Joanne asked, "Do you think you'll have another? Joey could use a buddy." To that I replied somewhat coyly, "Perhaps." She laughed and reminded me that as I was 36 years old and didn't have forever to decide.
But Joey ended up being the baby that would end all babies (or so I thought). He cried so much. I spent every minute he was awake trying to console him back to sleep. He wore me out like no other. But he grew out of that difficult stage, became mobile and determined to keep up with his big siblings and their friends, I did my best to keep up with him, and things got better, much more manageable. He settled into little boyhood, started school, and our life was beautifully and sometimes chaotically full. We now had four little people to usher to adulthood, and we were in our forties.
The topic of another baby did come up from time to time; Tim would get serious baby fever anytime he heard about or saw anyone else's baby. I love babies too, but I couldn't help but think it was a little ridiculous, the idea of the two of us having another. Didn't we have enough? Could we say we were killing it as parents of four? (No.) Weren't we starting to get old? Did the children we have not keep us busy enough? And sleep is nice, I like sleeping.
A few months ago, something started to nag at me relentlessly. I'd hear the girls make comments about how baby animals are always cuter than baby humans, and looking at photos themselves (without the wealth of memories behind them), you'd have to agree, at least at the newborn stage. Scrunchy, red-faced newborn baby vs. puppy? Puppy wins hands down (debatable, I know, but our babies weren't pretty newborns, even I can say that as their mother). They were still little when Joey was born six years ago, and I remember Annie being a big help with him. But it was long ago, ancient history for them. Who in their life -- I mean, in close proximity where they can see and interact with on a daily basis -- is showing them firsthand how amazing a human baby is, and the way they steal your heart? It's like nothing else. But how could I possibly expect them to know that? The news that a large family we knew was having or had just had another baby, elicited a comment along the lines of, "Another? How many is that?" Where had they come by this negativity toward families having lots of children? Not from their own mother, certainly! *gasp* It also hadn't escaped my notice that they treated Willow like a baby, and to be honest, I use a special voice with the dog too, even though I don't pick her up and cradle her. I could not get the thought out of my head : maybe I don't think I need another baby, but this family might.
Talking about all this one night, I had to agree with Tim that our life is more stable than it's ever been, with him retired, never to deploy again. We live in a nice house in a nice town we'll never have to move away from. We're all healthy. We have room in our lives for another. We agreed not to actually try for a baby, but just to "see what happens." At 42, I didn't think anything would. After all, we had tried for two years to conceive Joey when I was in my mid-thirties. It's not supposed to get easier with age, right? Pre-menopause was creeping up on me too, and my cycles were becoming increasingly unpredictable. I felt pretty pleased with myself that although my fertility was most likely in its twilight, I had had a pivotal change of heart that was bound to have its effect on my life and my family's even if not in the form of another baby.
That positive pregnancy test just a couple months later in late August rocked me. Wait, what? This actually happened?But isn't this what I wanted?Not really! Tim was over the moon. But I had to come face to face with the demon of my selfishness first. All I could think was, 'Here I go again -- another pregnancy, another labor, another postpartum, nursing around the clock, being tired all the time...' I was reeling at the thought of how my life was going to change. Then the first trimester hormones kicked in, making me tired and queasy on top of it, and I was plunged into a real funk.
Here we were that very day, downtown on a beautiful morning by ourselves. Anytime we do anything by ourselves, we take a selfie.
Tim and I went to breakfast one morning just the two of us, on one of his days off that didn't happen to coincide with the kids'. Very few and far between, those are. He broached the subject, saying, "I'm so happy, but I know you're not, that this isn't actually what you wanted, and I'm sorry. It's just that I look into the future and I see a little buddy who wants to go for a ride in the truck with me on a Saturday morning or take a nap on the couch. That was starting to go away with the other kids, and now I see it coming back." He was so excited, and dying to share his excitement with me. I don't remember anything else about the conversation, but I did let that image sink in of the little one in the back of his truck, just along for the ride, and it was like sun breaking through clouds. For the first time I was able to envision this new baby not as just something that happens to me, but as a new family member who will have a relationship with every other family member. I had been too focused on what it would cost me in the short term to see that, but now I did; and after all, hadn't that really been the point all along? Finally I had a reason to share in Tim's joy; I had a reason to smile about our still-secret news.
I reached out to the midwife who attended me with Timmy almost 11 years ago, texting her to ask if I was too old to be a good candidate for homebirth. She replied that as long as I was healthy and well nourished, that I remained a perfectly good candidate to birth at home. She was happy to take me on as a client again, and we arranged to have our first prenatal visit for about 12 weeks. The prenatal visits would be at our house. We now live five minutes away from one another, which is wonderful. She also referred me to a birth center/midwifery practice 45 minutes away, that hadn't been in existence back when I was having Timmy. She has a relationship with the midwife who runs it, and I would be able to go there for ultrasounds and bloodwork. This was was great news to me, because I hadn't known of any alternative to the dual care Tricare-covered OB-and-midwife plan I had gone with for my last two pregnancies. I had never felt exactly comfortable with that kind of arrangement, having to go to all the appointments with both of them, and then eventually having to "break up" with the OB practice before the baby was born. I called Bella Donna Midwifery soon after to schedule an ultrasound, and we got a first glimpse of our little bean at seven weeks.
I volunteer at Tim's work (Navy-Marine Corps Relief Society) teaching a class called Budget for Baby to Marines and Sailors and their spouses/partners. It blew my mind knowing these "kids" are half my age and having babies. And then to know that they're not the anomaly, I am! This pregnancy is really challenging all my preconceived (no pun intended😊) ideas about what "too old" is. I discussed this in depth with my midwife during one of our visits.*
Tim had cooked up a little surprise trip for me, months before we were pregnant, that turned out to be a nice little "babymoon" for us. It was a long weekend at the Biltmore Estate! His parents, and Karen and Matt came to town for a visit, with his parents staying at the house and schlepping the kids to school and all their activities. We got back on Sunday afternoon, Tim's birthday (October 17), and got to spend one more day with them before they all headed home.
After we all sang "Happy Birthday" to Tim, he weirded everyone out by making sure he had all their attention, and FaceTiming his other sisters in Massachusetts to include them. Even though it was his birthday, he had a little something to give his parents.
As you can see, the news was received well. I think Annie will forgive the baby for having a birthday that's right before hers. She asked me a couple months ago if I still have the baby carrier I used with her and the boys, because she'd like to carry the baby in it. Yes, I still do have that vintage Ergobaby carrier in maroon, and I am completely swooning at the mental image of her carrying around a baby sibling in the same carrier I used for her.
I am 20 weeks along now, the halfway point already. I've always loved being pregnant, once I'm past the icky first trimester. Joey looks at me and says, "Mama's got a big belly!" I tell him, "You ain't seen nothing yet!" I am extra hungry and very dependent on my daily naps, but I have kept up the workouts on my Daily Burn app. I aim for 30 minutes a day, seven days a week, but I'm happy to get five out of seven. I've started using a Belly Bandit, something I didn't have with my other pregnancies, but the extra belly and lower back support really helps. There's nothing like the first tiny flutters and kicks. I savor it all, and think about what an amazing gift it is, one that I accepted so grudgingly and undeservedly. Last week at our anatomy scan, we learned this baby was a boy. I'll admit I had been picturing a girl, and I had been thinking about how nice it would be to get those baby girl things out of the attic again. Then on the drive home, I said to myself, "little guy," and my heart swelled with happiness. I've always felt like once I find out which one I'm carrying, I seem to bond more deeply with a baby.
We took our firstborn with us to the anatomy scan. While we waited, they talked Fantasy Football.
This little birth center in Jacksonville is such a gem. It's a very busy place too, no surprise.
I have been listening every day since January 1 to the Bible in a Year podcast, and the day after I found out I was pregnant, while I was still trying to wrap my head around it, I heard Jeremiah 29:11, and wrote it on our blackboard in my chicken scratch where it has stayed ever since:
His plans are always better than mine! What will it take to get that through my thick head? Hasn't He always been good, always been generous? Has He ever asked too much of me? Maybe one day I'll stop clinging to my stubborn ways, and be more open and trusting. 2022 will be the year!
*I told her about Sandy Corey, my first grade teacher. She was a lovely, lovely woman who was unfailingly kind to me when I would need a pencil or return to school hours after the last bell to get my spelling book. She wore her hair in a curly bob and dressed in sweaters and knee-length skirts. She would walk back in forth in front of the chalkboard quickly and skid to a stop in her worn flats, something I would always try to imitate at home on our kitchen floor in my jelly shoes. One day the other teachers came in and made a big fuss decorating around her desk and giving her presents. It was Mrs. Corey's 40th birthday, the Big 4-0! They hung up black balloons and a banner that said "Over the Hill." A math lesson I came away with that day was 40=old. Mrs. Corey had a 20-year-old daughter whose picture was on her desk. A pretty girl with a big smile and long dark hair, some of which was teased and backlit, surrounding her head like a nimbus. I remember one day Mrs. Corey had to miss school in order to take her daughter to have her wisdom teeth pulled.
Now, given my overall impression of Mrs. Corey, I then try to imagine her pregnant. Utterly absurd. But I'm older now than she was then! How can this be? Agggrrrhhhh!
I started out trying to put together a blog post about our trip to Cincinnati beginning to end, but then I realized that my dad's surprise 70th birthday party is really deserving of a post of its own. Surprise parties really aren't done on my side of the family -- I think the last one I remember was for my great aunt Mary Lee, and it was probably over a quarter century ago. I was surprised when Grace texted us siblings with the idea a few months ago. My first thought was that Dad is probably the last person to want a surprise party. The next thought was sure, why not?😁
Grace curated a playlist full of Dad's favorites, such as the Bee Gees, Motown, Frankie Valli, and '80s and '90s country, just to name a few. Scotty and Faith hosted at their farmhouse in Kentucky that has come a long way since even the last time I visited. It now has a nice patio and fire pit, and more of the land has been cleared and leveled. They've put so much of their heart into it and it really shows. There was barbecue and lots of other good food to eat. My siblings and mom put a lot of thought and effort into it, and as usual I just got to show up in time for the festivities.
Since I stayed with my parents we all went over in my car, so I had a front row view of Dad's reaction when he saw the sign that said, "Scott's 70th birthday." He'd thought we were going over there to celebrate Scotty since the two of them share a birthday. He was like, "What is this? Oh no... who cares about my birthday!" Someone, probably Scotty, thought it best that he get a heads-up as he came down the driveway rather than ambushing him as he came through the door. Dad said later he was really glad to have had that warning. He recovered quickly and enjoyed the night.
He gave a short speech: "My real birthday is on the fourth, so if I don't make it to the fourth, this is all for nothing." This encapsulates beautifully his morbid, fatalistic sense of humor. My mom has joked that his last words will be "just my luck." But he's super healthy and there's every indication that, God willing, he'll be around for awhile yet. He shows no sign of slowing down and is always busy -- painting stuff, fixing stuff, renovating stuff, replacing stuff, going to visit a friend and help with stuff... And he never naps. The day he sits down and dozes off on the couch, someone might want to make sure he's breathing. "Just my luck -- I finally take a nap and now I'm dead." (Maybe I inherited a bit of his morbid humor if not his propensity for hard work.)
😄😄
There was a good turnout of people, mostly from my mom's side of the family because there is a lot more of them. I got to visit with aunts, uncles and cousins I hadn't seen in forever. In the picture above, looking like she could be another sister, is our cousin Natalie. Right after she arrived and we'd exchanged greetings, I said to her that I'd wished I'd gotten a picture of us when were were talking at Sophie's wedding (two years ago). We spent so much time together as kids; our mothers were very close (her mother, Connie, passed away when she was 12). Then I said, "Let's get one now." Anna took the phone from me to do it, and Faith said, "You and Grace get in the picture too, and I'll take it."
It's a weird little story to include, I know. But I share it because I find myself in the past couple years going through something where moments happen and I take a lot of pictures, but apparently not enough of them because I find myself regretting ones I didn't get. A few days later, it happened that Sophie gave Timmy a hug and said, "Birthday buddies!" And Timmy was hugging her back, which for one of my kids is kind of a big deal. There they were practically cheek-to-cheek with their cute dimpled smiles, and my phone wasn't handy, and the moment passed. It's just one of those things I "offer up" and try to accept that try as I might, I'm never going to be able to get all the pictures.
On a side note, I should mention I did not take all the photos I'm sharing here. I got some from Anna, Faith and Becky, a family friend who seems to have a gift for eliciting the best smiles from people.
As you look at these nighttime pictures, play this in your head: 🎜Well, you get down the fiddle and you get down the bow / kick off your shoes and you throw 'em on the floor / Dance in the kitchen till the morning light / Looseana Saturday night...🎝 If those lyrics don't ring a bell, then do yourself a favor and take a listen.
.jpeg)
