Chesed

A sneak peak for Gwenyth who’s been begging her mommy ever since Tuesday night to please let her see the pictures.

update to add: the rest of the album is {HERE} if you’re interested.

I want to write. I’ve been wanting to write for such a long time and now I can’t decide whether to spew out many little posts (or not so little) on different subjects or just to make one tremendously long post that will lose everyone with sheer boredom long, long before the end. I wonder if I could find another way to use the word “long” in this paragraph?

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Two weeks ago we took the boys to Carters Mountain for their apple festival. After hearing reports that the place was jam packed and everything from parking to using the restroom was difficult, we decided to be up there when they opened. We drove in five minutes early and were far from being the first ones there. When we left two hours later, the place was flooded.



I’ve never been to an orchard before. We always buy our fruit when someone else in church makes a run and offers to pick up for anyone else who wants some. The trees were just loaded and Adam could easily reach the lower ones from the ground. I think he thought picking the top ones more fun! He badly wanted to climb the trees instead of piggybacking. Liam picked up soft apples from the ground and dumped them into the little bucket I took along; but mostly he just ate apple. From bite number one, he was hooked. He would not relinquish that apple even after it dropped to the ground a time or two. It went with him on the hay ride and he chomped away while the rest of us enjoyed apple cider donuts. The funniest part of it all is that he never liked apples when I gave them to him at home and now he refuses to eat them since we’re home. Apparently it’s the mountain air.




I really wanted to try eating in town for lunch. We haven’t been out since Liam was diagnosed with his multiple allergies. I wanted a break; but more then that I wanted to know that we had options for times when we are on the road and gone over mealtime. We tried chipotles since most people recommend Mexican type places to avoid wheat and dairy. Their allergy card disappointed me terribly. Everything is positive for soy. Still, it looked like it was mostly due to soybean oil and, not having many other options, we decided to risk it. Bad move. He threw up repeatedly that afternoon, couldn’t sleep, fussed about life in general, ran on high speed until late that night and didn’t settle down to his normal for several days. So we’re still looking.

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Almost since my earliest days of xanga I’ve been subscribed to Jo from Pennsylvania. I can’t remember where or how I found her; but I loved hearing her heart. She was mom to two little boys not much older then Adam so I could relate easily to where she was in life. But it was more then that, too. I loved the way she pursued God and lived life with purpose. Not long after we met again on an infertility forum since both of us were dealing with secondary infertility. Move ahead about two more years and we both had babies! Of all the friends I’ve made online, Jo is one of two I’ve most wanted to also meet in person. Last Saturday her family came to Virginia to visit family and Jo spent part of the morning at my house! It was just wonderful! She is just as beautiful and fun and happy in real life as she is online. When she left I kept chattering excitedly to David and when I said something for the umpteenth time about how much fun that was he said, “I can tell. You’re pretty hyper.” Thanks so much, Jo! I hope it’s only the beginning.

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On Sunday David and I left very early for a trip to TN for his grandfather’s funeral. We dropped the boys off at my mom’s house since it looked herculean to work around Liam’s food issues enroute. It was indescribable to have so much talk time! We talked for hours without interruption, stopped to eat at Macaroni Grill and enjoyed ooey gooey pasta with no substitutes, and thoroughly enjoyed the trip.
David’s grandpa left a big impression on a lot of people. They remember him as a man who loved God and chose to do the right thing … and as a man with a great sense of humor. His favorite line when asked about his welfare was, “fat and sassy.” One man related the phone conversation he’d had with him earlier. He asked Grandpa what he’s been doing lately and Grandpa said, “Taking care of old people.” The man was a bit confused momentarily … I mean Grandpa was so old himself and he was doing what? Respite care? Rest home? Grandpa cleared all the confusion easily. “I take care of her. She takes care of me. We’re old people, you know.”

When I was younger I couldn’t figure out why at funerals people seemed to talk and laugh and have a good time. I assumed everyone was supposed to be sad and grieving all the time. You know, like maybe it was disrespectful or something. I remember my mom telling me that a funeral is the last gift someone gives to their family. And it’s true. We just had a family reunion in July, yet in his death, Grandpa gave us the gift of a moment of time together again ~ even if we are scattered from Ohio and Pennsylvania to Texas, El Salvador, and Kenya.
I’ve been at funerals where it was unbearably sad. Like when my friend from college died in a car accident. Or when another friend lost a three year old to cancer. Or a 17 year old from church drowned while swimming with friends. Or my uncle died in his forties and his youngest son was too little to ever remember him. Tragic. Not because they died and went to heaven; but because their families and friends are left with such unspeakable, shocking loss. There is something beautiful (in a sad kind of way) about death when someone has lived a long, rich, full life and transitions to living in heaven. Ever since my Grandpa died in August (and because of a few other things) I’ve been thinking about death a lot. I’m still processing it. I tried to talk to David about it; but I don’t think he got what I was trying to say so I’ll process a little longer before I dare write about it. Speaking of Mennonite culture, what do you think about the traditions surrounding the way our funerals / burials are conducted?

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Virginia may be technically considered southern; but it is not true South. In true Mennonite fashion, people offered lodging in their homes for family and friends who came to the funeral. The lady we were assigned to stay with wasn’t home when we stopped to change clothes prior to the evening visiting hours. Her next door neighbor, who certainly did not know us and was not in any way connected to the funeral or even the church where it was held, threw her doors and arms wide open and told us to come in and use her house. She profusely offered everything from separate changing areas for us (thanks, but no thanks!) to a place to stay for the night. Never would that happen in Virginia … or at least not with that tone of voice!

Would you believe that night when we got back to Ellen’s house, she still was not at home. No note on the door, nothing. Had we known her or at least spoken to her personally, we may have gone in and gotten comfortable. But this was just too presumptious. We called two hotels in town. One we’d looked at online earlier and the other about the same distance away in the other direction. The second one had no non-smoking rooms available aside from their honeymoon suite so they offered that to us at their bereavement rate. King size bed. Jacuzzi. Lots of pillows. We were thrilled.

It saved our communication breach plus some. I really appreciate the whole concept of hospitality that is so much a part of Mennonite culture. But I also thought that since we didn’t have the boys it would be a great time to get a hotel and be just us without having to get up and make small talk with someone we don’t know the next morning. You know, I just wanted to sleep as late as we dared, grab some food, and not have to answer to anyone else’s schedule but our own… just for one night. So before we left, I kind of hinted around about that, showed David the hotel online that looked nice, that kind of thing. He totally did not get the hint and said, “Well, that’s $70 bucks we don’t have to spend.” When we were nearly in TN he finally thought about this “no boys along aspect” himself and said, “You know, I’m kind of wishing we’d have gotten a hotel after all.” I was like, yeah, well, that’s why I was hinting.

“Hinting?” he said. “Sweetie, you need to say what you’re thinking. You know if you’d just have said, ‘it would really mean a lot to me if we could get a hotel since we don’t have the boys and just have some time to ourselves,’ I would have gotten it.”

Ok, but I’m trying not to put pressure on you because every time I say something like that you do it (and please don’t change that!) but it makes me think twice before asking something pretty specifically so you don’t feel like you have to do that. So I hint and think that you’ll get it without thinking you have to do it. But apparently it’s not working. Maybe one of these years we’ll actually learn how to read each other’s minds. Or maybe we’ll just talk each other’s language.

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Seriously exposing my technical ignorance here; but why can I not do anything besides boring on xanga with safari? I can’t change font styles or size, colors, move pictures, tab the beginnings of paragraphs, NOTHING. Posting pictures is tedious process. Is there something I’m missing? It makes me feel like complaining every single time.

I haven’t been posting as many photography posts this year because for awhile last Christmas it felt as though they nearly ran over my family blog. But the other day I took these and they were so much fun I just had to share. Jo is my sister-in-law and my good friend. I love being with her for many reasons. One because we are good friends and we laugh a lot. Another is just to see her be mom to her kids. She is as relaxed about parenting as I am high-strung. Her kids tumble but somehow manage not to get seriously hurt. Her baby girl climbed up onto a tractor outside while Jo had her back turned and when Jo found her she ran inside to get her camera so we’d believe her while I would have had an unbelievable blood pressure spike as I race to “rescue” my child.

It’s so much fun to do their pictures because Jo does not stress. Not even if Elliot got completely coated with blackish marks on his khaki pants within three minutes of being out of the van. “Oh, my,” said Jo. “I guess I’ll have some scrubbing to do when I get home.” I can imagine the feelings welling up inside of me after I’d carefully bathed and dressed everyone so we could look perfect for pictures. But Jo didn’t do that and so her kids stayed happy and so did she! I need to be a lot more like her. Even my brand new chiropractor looked me straight in the eye and said, “You need to relax. When you’re driving down the road, you need to say to yourself, ‘relax’. When you are talking to the boys, you need to say to yourself, ‘relax’. You need to tell yourself often, ‘relax’.” I wonder why my mom and David both chuckled when they heard that?

So here are a few of my favorites. You can find the rest of them here if you’re interested.

If you are a typical stay at home mom, do you ever sort of squirm when someone casually asks you, “Do you have a job?” or even better, “So, are you still working?”

It happens to me. Sometimes randomly when I meet someone new and we’re in that getting acquainted stage. Or the time I ran into one of my favorite nursing professors. Or just whenever I run into someone I haven’t seen in ages.

I always squash down the little chuckle that is determined to get out and politely shake my head and say slowly, “No, I’m at home with the boys.”

I have incredible respect for Mom’s who are also able to hold a job and for those who choose not to do so. It’s a matter of personal choice and I’m fine with leaving it at that. But “do you work?” is a really odd way of differentiating between the two if you ask me.

Take this week for example (It’s an exceptionally bad one so I’m definitely using it to make a point. Believe me when I say I work but I do not always have to work this hard!). On Monday I ran six loads of laundry through the washer, picked up around the house … you know the typical after-weekend mess. We’d just come through a week of revival meetings at church and I think we were all tired physically. Clipped and filed the coupons from the Sunday paper. My mom was trying to choose a carpet sample for their house and decided to bring it over to compare with what we have. She brought subs for lunch and played with the boys and we all got a yummy break in the middle of the day because of it. That night I was up until nearly midnight trying to be successful making pumpkin rolls for the school hot lunch I was in charge of the next day. (We serve hot lunch at our church school the same day the ladies sewing day gets held. That means four women plan and make lunch for anywhere up to 80 or 90 people.) My first batch flopped so I had to make three instead of two. Tuesday I loaded up the boys, four pumpkin rolls, and 4 gallons of green beans dripping with brown butter and mushrooms and headed for school to meet the rest of my group. Arrived home at 3, tucked Liam into bed, talked with my book publisher for the next forty minutes and then had twenty minutes left to shower and get out the door for a photo session. David kept the boys and I headed to my friend Janelle’s house to hang out for a few hours. On Wednesday, we got together with David’s family to butcher 150 chickens. NOT a fun job and it was freezing cold outside; but it is absolutely wonderful to have a freezer stocked with hormone and antibiotic-free chicken again. And luckily I only had to take the tea and paper products for my part of the lunch. Yesterday Liam was finally acting completely normal again since the horrible food reaction he had Saturday. He played and played and ate and slept and smiled happy smiles. I did another seven loads of laundry (no, we don’t wear THAT many clothes in three days but I did all the bed linens and our jackets from Wednesday and Liam’s clothes still have to be washed separately), cleaned the house and restored order and placed a photo order. Whew!

Today is a vacation day. It’s dreary out and just delicious inside. And I am not working. Not one little bit. That’s the nicest thing about “not working.” You can choose when you don’t work and when you really truly don’t work.

But let me guess. You don’t work either? I’m kind of thinking the next time someone says, “So, do you work?” I’m going to say, “Yes, I do. I just don’t get paid anymore.”

… because for some reason I seem to have run out of words. Odd.
I am so GLAD that I get to live in a place surrounded by beauty to soften the blow of winter coming.

(wouldn’t this make a lovely homecoming?)

The other day I was cooking something that I couldn’t turn off long enough to join the Adam in his run to the mailbox to meet daddy. Liam was devastated and in a rare moment for me, I left all the safety issues behind and let the boys go out together while I watched from the doorway. It was so, so cute. They’ve done it several times now and Adam always takes such good care of Liam.

The boys and I have been delighting in these last warm days. It’s so much fun to do things outside with them now that they both love it and Liam doesn’t end up spending all his minutes falling over, stepping on plants, or eating compost.
(I can hardly wait til this will actually work!)

Sunday mornings at our house. David is song leader at church so while he chooses songs, Liam hums along and directs with his “songbook.”

I am more in love with the new road we found to walk then ever. It is perfect for us.

Is there anything else that so easily makes a child happy as a balloon, a lollipop, or bubbles?

My mom has a new blog. You can read it here.

Today when the boys woke up from their naps we opened the curtains in their bedroom and saw a doe and her two fawns unabashedly helping themselves to our sweet potato plants. I was not amused. “Go shoot them quickly,” I told Adam who is obsessed with the idea of hunting right now. He has a toy gun that makes noise and that’s it; but he thinks it’s super cool. Especially since his grandpa put a scope on it today. Down the steps he thumped in that my legs are still kind of sleepy fashion and I tried to hurry him along from behind, sure the deer would leave before we got there. Adam spread both arms out to the sides and said, “Do not put any pressure on me at all.” (Well, excuse me? I thought you are still five not twenty-five!)

I woke up with a migraine and David’s parents graciously rescued me from my nauseous, think I’m about to black out state by picking up the boys. When they returned for naps four hours later I was still sore but able to live life again. Still, that hangover feeling continued. I tried to cheer myself up by using china at the table tonight. We had tomato basil soup, thick ham slices and melted cojack cheese on toasted bread, and a Greek salad. I decided it would be a fun night to teach Adam about garnishing food so we headed out the door to pick some oregano and chives. My sour cream dollops sank to the bottom of the bowl so it wasn’t quite like I hoped; but still fun. As Adam surveyed his sprig of oregano I explained to him that we call that a garnish. “Mommy, we could just put green all over the top of my bowl of soup and then it would look all green. Would that look pretty, Mommy? What would we call that?” I had food in my mouth and David beat me to the punch line with a great one liner. “That would be called an ingredient.”

Later Liam was bouncing his little ride around car up over the threshold of the doorway determined to get it in the house. Adam looked over at him and scoffed, “Liam don’t be so controlling.” Oh, how I love when he mixes up word meanings like that. It’s so ludicrously funny!

The migraine really is better but the back pain is not. My shoulder has continued to give me issues ever since my last pregnancy. Most times it’s more like a subtle reminder but sometimes, like the last week, it is pretty mean. Last night I couldn’t close my fingers tight around a washcloth when I went to take a shower and trying to write with a pen was next to impossible. I really will do something about it. I tend to take care of everyone else and kind of leave myself out right now since we’ve been pretty much inundated with medical bills for Liam. Which is also why I’m two years overdue for an eye doctor visit. David does not like this one tiny bit. Tonight he pretty much set the record straight and I will make some phone calls first thing Monday morning. In his words, “you’re a tough cookie.” Is that a compliment or a slam? I dared to ask him and he just chuckled. UH OH. I think I’ll just go take another 600 mg of ibuprofen and try to get some sleep. Good night!

Last Thursday morning I was lying in bed trying to summon enough courage to get up and face another day. Liam had been progressively more fussy for days and days and days culminating in a very, very bad day on Wednesday that ended with a long screaming session as he tried to fall asleep. He woke two hours later and cried heartbreakingly again then finally crashed for the night. Most of my days begin with hearing Liam crying almost before he wakes up. I run up the steps trying to diffuse things with happy thoughts only to have him yell even louder when he sees me.


The day goes on with tremendous amounts of grumpiness. A lot of days I either carry him on my hip as I try to do something or on the worst days I sit on the floor desperately trying to get him distracted with something. I find it very draining to have to work so hard at keeping a semblance of happy. But if I get sad, he gets ten times worse. It feels like that Precious Moments saying, “Dear God, if I give all my love away, will you give me a refill?” Except in my case it’s happiness, smiles and laughter. I’m not the only one with a fussy child. How do you all maintain some level of joy when your kids keep the plug of your feeling happy tank pulled and you feel it all draining out the bottom? If he’d give me some time to get my reserve built back up it would help.

Back to Thursday morning. I was feeling pretty low to say the least and as I thought back over the last few days I could not think of any sweet moments. I’m sure there were a few; but they felt buried to me. I told God, “You know, if Liam would die, I’m just not sure I’d have any good memories of the very recent past. Can you please at least give me some sweet moments to remember in my days?” (*disclaimer: I don’t think he’s dying. But when your child is sick all. the. time, some pretty awful possibilities can stare at you in the dark).

(look at his eyes squinting b/c he’s afraid the plate will fall back on him!)
Liam woke up that morning happy and sweet as any baby I’ve known. All day long was happy. Just happy. He played with toys and with Adam. He often came to me and when I picked him up he laid his head on my shoulder, patted my back with his extra wide thumps, and cooed his little “I love you” sounds. I could hardly believe how good it felt to be a normal mom! The next day went downhill fast; but at least I’d had a reprieve.

(the first time Liam and I got to go to church in 8 weeks! As you can tell the boys are thrilled. Liam is crying b/c I took him from his daddy and Adam is sullen because he doesn’t want to take a picture with MOMMY. Just with daddy. You know. All the boys. Every day just feels like Mother’s Day around here! The appreciation level is almost toxic.)
Monday he cried all day long and it turned to screaming if I put him down long enough to change the washer and dryer. We saw the doctor that afternoon who said he thinks he just has a virus. Today for the first time since last Thursday, Liam woke up talking happy sounds in his crib. I heard Adam wake up and they played in Liam’s crib for awhile. Liam giggled when he heard me coming up the steps, ate his breakfast without complaint, and is happily playing with toys alongside Adam who is “weedeating.” Days like this are a gift I hardly dare to dream about; but oh, how I soak up every minute. I watch Liam smile and talk and memorize the moments.

God has been answering my prayer and helping me to be more aware of the sweet moments in the bad days. Well, ok, not days like Monday. But there have been so many darling little moments for me to tuck away on the other days.

On Sunday afternoon I jumped up to start getting some food around for a quick supper before church. Liam saw me and immediately goes over to the drawer where I keep the plates and bowls and started hauling the dinner plates over to the table one at a time. It was too cute. He took out every single dinner plate and piled them on the table then stopped. (I thought for a minute he was going to take the luncheon plates and bowls, too.) When we were ready to eat I stood by his high chair and told him to come. He started to run toward me then suddenly stopped and ran the opposite direction around the island. I was ready to reprimand him, but decided to watch for a minute. He hurried to the oven, grabbed his bib, and barreled back to me.

Liam wants to do everything we do. When it’s time for his bedtime snack, he wants to sit on a big chair, not his high chair. When it’s time to get ready for bed, he wants to brush his own teeth. If I have a bucket of cleaning water and turn my back for one second, he grabs the rag out of the water and takes it dripping wet to the windows and scrubs them down.

Saturday night Adam and I ran to town because I was completely out of yogurt and milk for Liam and needed a few groceries for us the next day. It was dumping rain and the roads were terrible in the dark. Adam was sure our brakes were going to give out and seemed terrified. After a few questions I realized he thought brakes just gave out for no reason. We’ve shown him the escape ramps for trucks on the mountain and he somehow did not connect the fact that it happened to semis and only when their brakes overheat. Later when we dashed madly out of Kroger I told him to jump in quickly so he doesn’t get soaked. I was frantically unloading bags and ready to run the cart back when Adam piped up seriously from the back seat, “Mommy, I wish that would have been my responsibility.” On my way back to the car, I met up with a vehicle pulling into the parking space I was running across. I zig zagged my way through and sighed with relief to be back in the car where it was dry. Adam was watching wide eyed. “Did you get run over, Mommy?”

After we got out of Whole Foods I told Adam that what you really need on a very rainy shopping trip is a Starbucks coffee. He yelled his agreement pretty quickly. Since it was already pushing 9:30 and I really did not want to make another stop, I called David who agreed to make extra strong decaf coffee by the time we got home. I filled our mugs about 1/4 of the way full with milk and heated it before filling them the rest of the way with coffee and adding a packet of hot chocolate mix. We squirted cool whip on top and Adam was duly impressed. Liam, who was eating goat milk yogurt, was not. He’s really starting to notice when our food is different from his and will beg to get out of his high chair, settle into David’s or my lap, grab our fork, and try to help himself to our food. It’s cute but pitiful all at the same time. Sometimes I can’t replicate ours in a Liam-friendly version, but this time I had an idea.

I filled a mini princess house mug like our big ones with goat milk and squirted chocolate syrup in to make it the same color as ours. He was thrilled beyond words. The pleased, pleased look in his eyes every time they surfaced above the cup made me realize I need to work harder at bringing more variety and normalcy to his diet. Maybe he is only sixteen months old, but he is old enough to notice the difference. And unfortunately, not old enough to understand the why. But at least there are sweet moments in the day to remember. And now I’m off to soak up a few more of them.

(PS There are a few more photos in my photo blog. Just trying to be kind to my friends with dialup!)

Yesterday my two-year-old niece, Veronica, fell as she was running out the hall at their house. She refused to walk on her leg after that but when she held still she seemed to be fine. Since she still couldn’t walk today they took her to the doctor who promptly sent her for x-rays. Her femur is broken.

That’s all I know so far. I will update this as I hear more. For now, will you join me in praying for Veronica, her mommy, Beth, and their family:
~ for healing and pain relief for Veronica
~ for the other children to be extra gentle and kind (they already are extra sweet, docile kids but extra, extra wouldn’t hurt!)
~ forBeth who is mommy to four children ages 2 months to 3 years. She was so excited about having a three year old and 2 two year olds with a baby this time as opposed to a 14 month old and twin baby girls (as in they can all walk, go potty, eat by themselves). Now going potty and sitting and everything will be a challenge and walking out of the question for Veronica. She’s an amazing mom but this is going to be a huge stretch even for super mom.

Update: Veronica’s cast will start at her waist and go down both legs. They have to take her to a larger hospital to get her casted.

Mix together to make crumbs for crust:
1 1/2 c chocolate cookie crumbs
6 T butter or margarine, melted
For the filling:
1 1/4 c Hersheys mini kisses, semi sweet, divided
4 packages cream cheese, softened
2/3 c sugar
3 eggs
1/3 c milk
1 T instant espresso or coffee powder
1/4 t. cinnamon
Melt 1 c chocolate kisses. Mix cream cheese and sugar. Add next four ingredients and mix. Add melted chocolate. Spoon into crust. Bake 55 minutes @ 350 (my sister, Beth, who is the cheesecake pro says she bakes hers 10 minutes longer than this). Cool for 15 minutes. Loosen from pan with a knife. Cool completely. Remove from pan. Cover and refrigerate at least four hours.
Espresso cream:
1/2 c cool whip
1/2 tsp instant coffee
Mix together and use a cake decorating set to garnish the top with espresso cream. Add the remaining kisses or broken pirouettes, milano cookies, or candybar pieces.

Who wants to bake for me?