Merry Christmas 2015

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

What a wonderful year we've had in 2015! As usual, we've managed to keep ourselves busy and as always, that includes traveling.

Spot the Sullivans in this family reunion picture...

Joseph went on a business trip to represent Active911 at a conference in Indianapolis in April, and then in May traveled for a week to northeastern Ukraine to learn more about the work of a charity that we're supporting called LifeSong. It would have been fun to go together and spend some time there, but we hadn't planned on an international trip this year and taking kids to the Ukraine didn't seem like the safest idea at the time. We also went on a family trip to Seaside, Oregon, where we visited the beautiful northern Oregon coast and Nichole lost sleep over mentally preparing for impending tsunamis. In August we went on a mini camping/road trip to California for a Cespedes Family Reunion where we visited many of Nichole's Guamanian relatives. We also traveled as a family to Washington, D.C. for another conference and to visit family friends, and to Illinois so Joseph could complete twin engine flight training to be able to fly our newest twin engine Cessna 340. That plane is currently housed in Ohio while awaiting repairs, so while we were in the area, we took a road trip in our rental car to Ohio to see the plane. Since we discovered in July that we'll be expecting yet another baby Sullivan (read more about that here), we are looking forward to a six seater aircraft with enough room for all of us. Until then, we've been having fun flying in the current four-seat Cessna 172.

This is what it looks like when
 three kids pack into the family plane
for a camping trip!

This year we took family flying trips to Sunriver, Oregon and to the Alvord Desert in southeastern Oregon for an overnight camping trip.
Somehow in the middle of all of that, we managed to fit in adding a second bathroom (Hallelujah!) to the house, finishing the landscaping, making unspeakable quantities of jam, swim lessons for the kids, and Joseph (and Nichole!) playing softball. And since we're clearly outgrowing our wonderful but small house, we've been trying to make some headway on building a house on the Neabeack Hill property. There have been many setbacks, but we believe we might actually be able to break ground sometime within the next few months.

Our Family

Diana

Showing off a snake.

Life with a four year old Diana has been glorious and exciting. She was our resident outdoorswoman this year. She loved to run outside first thing in the morning to explore the yard and help with the garden. She kept a rotating menagerie of pets, from garter snakes to ladybugs, crickets, pillbugs, worms, snails, and basically anything she could catch. She graduated from nap time to quiet time and shocked us with her creativity. With an hour or two of unsupervised time and access to some basic crafting tools, she made books, costumes, "soups," intricate block cities, paintings, luxurious houses for bugs, and beautiful pictures. We've been reading through Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books, which she loves. She enjoys science (which includes cooking), math, and writing. She's a natural leader who walks into any group of children and takes charge, and regardless of their age, they usually end up listening to her just because she's full of good ideas.

Liam

Liam is three years old with a heart of gold. He is fiercely loyal and protective of his family. He is loud, wild, silly, strong, single-minded, and in all other ways a three year old boy. His boundless energy led him to fall and fracture his elbow early in the year, but thankfully after a couple of weeks of trying to keep a splint/wrap on him, it healed up nicely. He started swim lessons and after a couple uncertain weeks, he warmed up to them and enjoys them. This year Liam has also discovered superheroes- his favorite is Superman. His current goal when he grows up is to become a mix of Superman, Daddy, Robin Hood, and a fireman. With his unlimited energy, strength, and heart, he just might be able to do it all!

Matthew

Matthew and Grandpa Cespedes

We've loved learning more about Matthew this year. He turned one in January, so he's hit lots of big milestones from walking (then running, jumping, and climbing) to talking. I love getting to know what's on a baby's mind when they start putting together words into sentences. He tells me about events that happened in the past, or what he wants to do, or what his siblings did when I was out of the room... He loves getting caught up playing with his siblings but is just as happy to play by himself when he's in the mood. He is very much an observant, focused engineer. He enjoys using his hands to figure out how to do and undo things like buckles, switches, latches, screw-top lids, etc. He will "do" and "undo" them repeatedly until he's mastered the skill. He also loves cleanliness and order, and if something is out of place and I take too long to fix it, he'll do it for me.

Joseph & Nichole

Enjoying our seventh anniversary
on Whidbey Island, WA.

Joseph is a man in perpetual motion. He is still involved in a handful of businesses to varying degrees, including Alyrica and Active911. He even oversaw the burning down of a house (as a training exercise!) to make a promotional video for Active911, which you can watch here. One of his exciting projects right now is working in robotics. He loves his work, which is one of the best things a man can ask for. He completed twin engine training and is working on his commercial pilot's license, which is another step on the way to getting certified as a flight instructor. When he's not busy working, playing softball, reading the works of Winston Churchill, studying for various flying exams, traveling, spending time with his family, or fixing up the house, Joseph can usually be found just flying around to stay proficient and trying some more complicated maneuvers to improve his skills as a pilot. 

As for me, this was going to be my year to start experimenting with volunteering/civic work or taking classes of some kind (possibly some flight training), but a new baby intervened and so those plans have been put on hold for a bit longer. Early this year I discovered canning, and the bounty of the Willamette Valley led me to adventures making more strawberry, boysenberry, marionberry, peach, blueberry, and cherry jam than we could ever possibly use. It's like bottling up sunshine for the dark, wet winter! I played a bit on the Alyrica/Active911 co-ed softball team this summer, which was enjoyable, but I think my talent still lies in swimming, not hand-eye coordination. I managed to revive my rusty piano playing skills and learn a few new pieces this year between travels. I'm also trying to figure out homeschooling. The kids are so eager to learn and I'm still discovering how to teach to their individual learning styles. 

We're so thankful for all the blessings (even the unexpected ones!) we've enjoyed this year. We look forward to a new year, a new baby, and new adventures in 2016!

Our whole family made it to the top of the Astoria Tower!

Getting ready to take off from the Alvord Desert.

.

The boys.

.

The girls.

It's a....

Yep, I'm that mother posting embarrassing pictures. Sorry, son.

BOY!!!!!!!!!!

On Friday, October 30, we went to Portland for a full anatomy scan of our newest baby. As I mentioned before, we wanted to know the gender since we've done surprises before and we had gotten rid of all our baby girl gear. And we wanted to make sure everything was good and healthy.

We were able to see many things, but not his face. He's lying transverse (across my body) and facing my spine, so he didn't lend himself to many good pictures. I've got lots of pictures of his spine and abdomen and head, though. We did see very clearly that he is a little he. We also saw he is a healthy and wiggly little boy. All his measurements look good. I had been concerned because up until week 19, I wasn't really able to feel much movement. He's definitely moving, but because my placenta is anterior (in front) and he's facing my back, they're more difficult to feel. Now that we're in week 20, I'm feeling lots of kicking, stretching, and wiggling, particularly under my ribs since he's laying across me.

So how do I feel about having a little boy instead of having a little girl?

I've seen lots of articles recently by mothers of boys who reject the idea that they need a daughter for their family to be complete. I think that's just the way it should be- everyone should appreciate the children they have. I've had a little girl, though. I know babies are some of the most precious and special things in the world, and little girls somehow seem especially sweet. That's not to say that little boys are not charming, endearing, lovable, and sweet in their own way. It's just different. As a woman, raising a little girl is like getting to look at my childhood again from a different perspective. I want to guide her to become a woman who's stronger, smarter, and better than myself. Being able to raise and send a young woman into the world is a gift and a blessing. Since girls are so wonderful, am I disappointed that we're expecting a son and not a daughter?

No!

I will always look at baby girl outfits wistfully, with their roses and strawberries and pinkness. Fair warning: I am going to swoop up the very next niece that's born and just enjoy holding her. But I am so excited to be having a little boy! I can't wait to see his face and learn about his little personality. I can't wait to hold his warm and snuggly self and watch him become part of our family. I only have two sons, but it seems like they drive me to the brink of losing my mind and then disarm me with utter love and sweetness. Boys really are grand. I was cleaning Liam's hands today and suddenly realized they were bigger than the last time I really studied them. They were big boy hands. And I thought of some very tall teenage brothers I'd noticed in church the other week and realized that I'm going to have a crew of fine men one day with big hands and deep voices who all call me Mom. It was bittersweet. I love having these silly little boys for now, and I'll love having big sons too.

I know that a father is equally important for boys and girls. Diana has obviously benefited from having a great dad, but I think if we have more sons that are able to learn from Joseph and look up to him as a father, the world will just be a better place. As soon as we started dating, and especially after seeing the example that his own father set for him, I had no doubt that Joseph would be the best dad I could hope for if we ever got married and had kids. I have no problem with having another son to add to our circus. :)

It's likely that almost everyone who came to break the suspense left after that first picture, so I'll wrap up here. I'll also mention that our boy was measuring a few days ahead of my due date, so it is entirely possible that we'll have a St. Patrick's Day baby. And if that happens, Joseph has seriously proposed naming him Patrick, just to have a St. Patrick's Day Patrick. So the stakes are high. We currently have a short list of possible names, but we like to not settle on one until we meet our baby and decide if it fits him or not. If a name is what you're interested in, check back in March! :)

Baby Number Four Q&A

Baby bump at 13 weeks (when I finally
got around to taking a 3 month picture).

EXTRA! EXTRA! Read all about it! Those Sullivans are expecting baby number four!

Have you heard? We're going to have another baby! We can't stop, we won't stop, and now we'll have an even number of children running around again, which seems to be very important to some people. As we've been sharing our news with close friends, family, and a few observant strangers, we've noticed that people's reactions seem to fall into two categories:

"Yay!! You're having another baby! Congratulations!!" (We love telling these people baby news. And just about everything else.)

"Oh wow. [Another baby- isn't that just what you guys do every two years or so?]"

But happy or horrified, a few questions have been coming up frequently, so I thought I'd just address those right now.

Q. Was it a surprise? I thought you weren't going to have anymore!
A. Yes, we were also surprised. We don't believe that birth control is wrong, because God is powerful enough to determine the size of a family anyway if that's His plan. We've always prayed for God to intervene if our family was meant to be bigger, and he did. That's good enough for us, and we're thrilled.

Q. Where are you going to fit another baby in your house?
A. Lord willing, there should be some tangible progress on our house on Neabeack Hill soon, which will hopefully amount to a new, four bedroom house by early next year- ideally before I go into labor. If not, our babies usually spend a couple of months in a pack-n-play bassinet in our room anyway. They don't take up much space. And if the house is finished by the middle of or late next year, it might actually be easier than trying to pack and move with a very pregnant woman or a very young newborn.

Q. So are you done after this?
A. It's possible we may decide to create superintelligent life forms every two years for the next twenty years as part of our long-term plan for intergalactic domination. (But probably not.)

Q. What are you hoping for?
A. Really hoping for a human baby and not a velociraptor. Fingers crossed- three out of four isn't bad odds!

Q. Are you going to find out whether you're having a girl or a boy?
A. Yes. We've done the surprise thing, but this pregnancy seems very different from the last two, and we'd really like to know what we're expecting. Also, we gave away all our baby girl clothes, so if it's a girl, we have some preparing to do.

Q. You've got like a huge family now/ You're in for it now/  You're going to be so busy/ You're going to have your hands full/ I don't know how you're going to manage/ I could never imagine having so many kids/ How are you going to make time for them all?
A. Your concern for us is deeply touching. With four children and 12 waking hours in a day, we'll just have to allot three hours of parental attention and 1/4 of our love for each of them. It's the only thing that makes mathematical sense.

Q. When are you due?
A. Around St. Patrick's Day (March 18-22 +/- two weeks)

And that should just about cover it all. What? You've noticed that not all of them are actually questions? That's because, as a mother of three, I've noticed that strangers no longer have questions for me: only slightly shocked and pitying comments. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me "You've got your hands full," then all my children would have healthy college funds to look forward to on their 18th birthdays, instead of a hearty slap on the back and a "Best Wishes" card.

So for those of you who still care, here's what this pregnancy has been like: not at all like the others. For one thing, I'm not constantly angry. I've actually been mostly weepy. I have to choke back tears on the daily. Basically it's been twelve weeks of feeling all the feels, trying to avoid Ed Sheeran, wedding/proposal videos, and all movie trailers. Have you seen the trailer for The Good Dinosaur? That stupid thing gets me every time. The little boy just reminds me so much of my wild, brave, protective Liam, and I just want the best for all my kids, and THERE I GO AGAIN.

Honestly, at this point, you could probably show me a video of someone cleaning a house, and if you set it to some Florence and the Machine or Of Monsters and Men, I'd just dissolve into tears.

My last two pregnancies I distinctly craved meat and vegetables/ tangy flavors. Not so, this one. For a few weeks I struggled to find any food that seemed even remotely appetizing. Tomatoes were a no-go. They seemed (and still seem) disgusting to me, which means I picked the wrong year to plant six tomato bushes. When the nausea passed, I wanted comfort foods like broccoli, rice, and cheese casserole, or a really good macaroni and cheese, which is sad because for some reason my struggle this pregnancy is lactose intolerance. Each pregnancy has its own weird challenge, and for this one, it's dairy. I dream of one day eating chocolate, or drinking chocolate milkshakes, or eating anything with butter or cheese again. And not to be overly whiny, but do you realize that there's dairy on like everything? You can't order a salad without some kind of cheese on top of it or hidden in the dressing. Even if something doesn't appear to have any dairy in it, it's usually been cooked in butter. It's a bummer. All I want is Nutella and cheesecake, and I can't have either. FIRST WORLD TANTRUM.

We went to our first midwife appointment already and were able to hear the little whoosh-whoosh of a heart beating at 152 bpm. The kids really liked it. Diana is thrilled to have a new baby to help take care of, and Liam is incredibly excited too. Every day he talks about how he loves the new baby and all the ways he will help take care of it and his hopes for their wonderful relationship. (He and Matthew are going through a bit of a rough patch, so I think all his hopes for a docile and non-abusive sibling are pinned on this new baby.) Diana and I are currently reading Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books, so she thinks the baby is a girl and wants to name her Carrie. It's not currently on our shortlist, but she's trying to wear us down.

That's it. Keep checking here for baby updates. We'll probably be able to answer the boy/girl question in early November, for those who are interested.

Grandma Gail

My Grandma Gail is the only grandmother I've ever known on my mom's side of the family. As far as I remember, she has always been warm, kind, and cheerful. I haven't seen her very often- only once every five to ten years as she and my Grandpa live in Florida. I always thought of her as my "crafty" relative. She loved to crochet and in more recent years she began making elaborate cards for birthdays and holidays. She never missed even one. I have a pile of cards I've been collecting from her that sits on my counter as a reminder to finally call her. I don't think I've talked to her since Christmas, and since then she's sent a card for Matthew's birthday and one for Easter. It's her way of showing she cares, and I really do appreciate them, so I wanted to call her up and thank her.

I'll never get that chance. Two nights ago, my Grandma Gail suddenly and unexpectedly passed away.

This grief is strange, and in some ways too familiar. I guess I sometimes imagine what would happen if I lost a family member, and it's not like this. I feel a dull, confusing sadness. I wasn't terribly close to Gail, but she was my grandmother and I loved her. What are you supposed to feel when you lose someone you didn't know very well? This brings me back to the weeks following our miscarriage. We had known for about a week that I was pregnant, and suddenly our baby was gone; just long enough to begin to plan for this little new person's life and to feel disappointed and sad that none of those plans would come to fruition. We didn't know our baby well. We didn't even get much of a chance to envision their future. But we felt their loss, and for me it translated into a background sadness and depression or longing for a few weeks. It was confusing because it wasn't a deep, cutting grief and because everyone else went on as if nothing had happened at all.

I am sad that Gail is gone. I am sad for my Grandpa, who is now alone without much family nearby. I'm sad for her children. But more than that, I feel guilty. I hate talking on the phone, but I should have made the time to call my Grandma. I used the excuse of being busy, being tired, not having enough time for a full conversation, etc. I imagined I'd always have more time. Instead, Gail left this world without knowing how much I appreciate her cards.

If I could make that final call, I would tell her thank you- thank you for the cards that she put so much effort into making, and thank you for thinking of us. I'd thank her for caring. I'd send her more pictures of the kids. I'd tell her about the video I took just for her- of the kids' excited reactions when they opened up her Halloween card. I never got around to sending that video. I would have made the time to set up Skype so she could actually see the kids and talk to them. I'd just listen to her talk (she was so much more talkative than me!), knowing that listening is one of the greatest gifts you can give some people. I'd want her to know that she holds a special place in our special little family and she brightens our lives by reaching out to us with her cards and emails.

I wish I could have said goodbye, but it's too late to let my Grandma know I cared. I guess all I can do is avoid making the same mistake by letting people know how important they are when I have the chance.

Mommy Rules

I'm kind of stuck on my computer moving a mountain of pictures and videos of adorable children and the curiosities of everyday life from my iPhone onto a storage device so I can take yet more pictures of the cute, the mundane, and the I-don't-have-time-to-run-for-the-real-camera stuff. What that means for you is two posts in one night. That's right, tonight you reap the rewards of my inability to effectively use technology!

Unfortunately, this isn't real deep-thinking, soul-searching, truly touching blog post material. I'm just posting something I have on my bedroom wall. I wrote it when I was going through a period of more ungraceful mothering and subsequent nightly guilt, which happens approximately once a month for me (ahem). These are my mommy rules. Seeing it on my wall helps keep these foremost in my mind every day as I go to interact with my kids. Do any of you moms have other "rules" or guidelines for yourself?

Mommy Rules

1. Just say "yes" sometimes- I don't know if it's because I'm a firstborn or if I'm actually just controlling, but I find myself saying "no" to my kids a LOT because I don't want to be bothered with the hassle or mess of whatever they're requesting. If it's not going to result in serious injury, damage to property, and isn't against our established rules, I have to remember for all our sakes just to say "yes" when they ask if they can wash toy cars in the sink, play with the Tupperware, run around barefoot in the back yard, etc.
2. Every day, give each one a hug and a kiss for no reason at all- Occasionally I find myself so busy that I realize I haven't given them hugs or kisses, and it's amazing how much they light up when I remember. (And the reciprocal affection is pretty sweet too!)
3. Spend 5-10 minutes of one-on-one time with each child- This became harder once there were three children in the mix, but all of us seem to do better when I can connect with each child for at least a little while and get to know what's going on with them.
4. If you hear yourself YELLING or you are growling, constantly frustrated, or ready to pull your hair out, GO TO YOUR ROOM FOR MOMMY TIME OUT- It turns out the stresses of parenting bring out the very loud and yell-y side of my family. Simmering anger, a volcanic temper, and using a loud, angry voice are all some of my very prominent personal struggles that I have to fight (and often fail to control) multiple times a day. One way of coping with my temper when I'm feeling snappish is to just separate myself and the kids. When I feel angry, overwhelmed, and appalled by everything, I either send them to their room (or outside) to play or put something on for them to watch while I cool down in my room. Sometimes we just need a little time apart for mommy to calm down.
5. MODEL a cheerful heart and a good attitude- you are the person they're around most every day- a humbling, slightly terrifying truth. I can preach patience, kindness, forgiveness, and other virtues to my kids, but if I can't model them myself, my words don't mean anything.
6. Dance, sing, wrestle, or play with them- Because we all appreciate it when I take time to have fun with kids once in a while. 
7. Read the Bible every day- For keeping me grounded and for reminders of God's patience, strength, love, and expectations. Plus my oldest has a lot of questions these days about God and Jesus and I want to be able to answer them, and it's just good for the soul to be refreshed and challenged by God's words. 
8. Pray. A lot.- Because if these kids are going to grow up to be good, well-adjusted, contributing members of society, it is going to be because the God who made each member of our family moves in our lives in real and meaningful ways to keep us from being our worst selves all the livelong day, and not because of my skill as a mother. 

How we're doing, Part II

I didn't mean to leave all two of you with a negative post for so long! Some people have asked, so here's how we're doing now:

Better. LOTS better.

Within a few days of oral and topical antibiotics and some new wound care ideas, Diana's skin was healing up beautifully. The adult dose of Zyrtec seems to be keeping her from being too itchy, and we've moved from using a topical steroid cream every day into using it as a maintenance tool: maybe once or twice a week if her skin is starting to get really red and angry in areas. Mostly it just looks normal, like kids' skin should look. Even the raised, red itchy areas aren't as prevalent anymore. It doesn't help when she's really itchy, but Diana has a new appreciation for what happens if she scratches her skin instead of rubbing or scratching through her clothes and mostly tries to avoid it or ask for help. The spring pollen seems to be affecting her Reactive Airway Disorder (RAD)/asthma a little bit, but we have tools for managing that too, so overall Diana is doing great!

Liam leaped or fell off a sofa when no one was watching and managed to land on his elbow and fracture it, so we had about a week of a Liam in pain and practice wrapping and putting a tiny splint on a tiny arm. His visit to the orthopedic surgeon this week revealed that his fracture is healing up nicely, which we could have told anyone pretty easily since he's been running around and using his hand and arm and making it impossible to keep a splint or sling on him. He doesn't have to have a cast at this point. He does need to keep from injuring the elbow further or else he'll need a pin in it. It's pretty useless trying to explain that to a two year old boy, though. He's already tweaked his injured arm twice today wrestling with his sister, so if he doesn't end up with a pin in his elbow before his third birthday, it will be by virtue of the power of prayer and the grace of God.

How we're doing

Everyone is asking, so I thought I should just write a blog post about it!

Our family has been struggling with some health issues for the past three weeks. Most notably Diana's eczema flared up again in a very serious way. One week it was pink eye for Liam, and then waiting to see if anyone else would get it. As soon as he was done with the antibiotic course for that, he came down with Group A Strep, complete with lack of appetite and a pretty high fever. We feared Matthew was going to come down with one or both illnesses because he was also acting very fussy and sad, but it turned out he was just pushing through 2-3 new teeth.

In the midst of all of that, I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with despair about Diana and I indulged in a Facebook post about our circumstances. After doing that I was overwhelmed again, but with love and encouragement. It was so touching! People dropped off chocolate for a stressed mom (angels, all of you!), gifts for the kids, and had lots of helpful suggestions about Diana. We were also able to FINALLY see a doctor a couple days after and get some tools to help get Diana some relief.

Here's what happened with her:

Diana's ankle Thursday night.

As usual, there was no warning Diana's eczema was going to go downhill. The only contributing factors we can think of are that she had a bit of a bad attitude and we went out to eat Chinese food, so she may have had some food grease on her hands. It was a Thursday, so I put the kids down for naps and Joseph went back to work. Diana started crying from her room and I went in to find she'd pretty severely scratched up her ankles and the tops of her feet. There were a lot of open spots, so I put on Neosporin and some band-aids. Soon after putting her to bed that night, she came out crying to show me that she'd scratched herself open AGAIN in the same area. She was having trouble walking because her feet were sore and stiff. The thing that concerned me was that there were small white bumps that I'd never seen before. I know Neosporin has some cocoa butter in it and since she's allergic to that, I hoped it was just a reaction to the Neosporin. I wrapped her feet in some gauze and tights and sent her back to bed.

 

Friday.

I thought for sure we wouldn't have any more problems because her feet seemed to be hurting more than itching. But of course I was wrong! The very next day at naptime she came to me crying again because she'd scratched herself. I applied Vaseline and more gauze.

We made it through most of the weekend without any more problems. By Sunday night, I noticed many more white bumps and was concerned they might be some unusual infection. Unfortunately, I took to Facebook to find an answer, where parents of other kids with eczema diagnosed Diana with everything from warts to MRSA, so obviously I didn't find any good information there.

Sunday night.

Sunday night.

Monday.

But it was Monday when things got really bad. She was starting to heal up, or maybe it was whatever the white bumps were, but she was really itchy and called to me from the bathroom around nap time. I was feeding Matthew, so I asked her to wait a couple minutes until I put him down and I walked in on this:

It was like a horror movie. I gasped and yelled "Diana!" and covered my mouth in shock. She was already distressed and when she saw my reaction just started screaming "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" over and over again. She told me she thought I was angry at her. I tried to explain that I was very surprised and angry that she was so itchy that she would do this to herself. She didn't understand the distinction. But really, parents, if you walked in on your child tearing themselves to pieces, wouldn't it push you a little bit over the edge? When I cleaned it up, her ankles looked more like this:

Monday cleaned up.

Monday cleaned up.

 

Really, the only thing I knew to do was put Vaseline and gauze on and tape it up. Obviously this was very painful, especially as it started to heal a little under the dressing. Diana could walk a little on her tip-toes because it hurt to bend her foot. Mostly she sat and wouldn't walk at all. I tried to force her to walk a little bit just to keep things flexible but it hurt her a lot. 

Taking the dressings off was painful too because they stuck to the wounds, so we'd soak them in an epsom salt bath to soften things up and cleanse the area. You can't possibly imagine the amount of screaming that goes into mentally preparing, trying to persuade, and finally forcing a frightened and hurting child into exposing the most painful part of their body to certain pain in the name of helping them. It is to our neighbors' great credit that, despite three home births and many years of Diana screaming at the top of her lungs because of her hurting skin, they have never yet reported us to the authorities. It sounded to all the world like someone was being murdered. She would physically fight and yell "No, mommy, you're hurting me! Don't hurt me! Please! Let me take my leg out! Help me! Help me mommy! Please no!" That was probably some of my lowest times. The only thing that can possibly keep a parent mechanically doing something that is so obviously hurting and terrifying their child is the knowledge that it will be good for them in the end, but it is so difficult. And in the end we'd bandage her up again and beg her not to touch her ankles.

That was another confusing part of the whole episode. How do you deal with someone who is harming themselves? Sure, she's a child. The hallmark of being a child is a lack of impulse control. Certainly her problem is severe, because human beings don't just remove their skin unless there is a larger issue. But at some point it does become difficult not to become hardened and tell them "YOU did this! This is all your fault! Just stop doing it!" It was at once utterly heart-wrenching and also maddening. 

I called the dermatologist and the doctor's offices. We had an appointment to see her doctor that we'd made FIVE WEEKS prior, but it was still a week off and I didn't know what she'd do to herself in the meantime. I begged them, holding back tears, to see if they could find any time at all that week to see her. I told them she had removed all the skin from her ankles, that I was worried about infection, that I needed instructions on wound care, and the nearest time any of them could find was Thursday- three days away. So we took it and hoped we could keep her skin together for three days. We couldn't. Both Tuesday night and Wednesday night she woke us up at 5 AM screaming and scratching with blood running down her feet. More gauze and tape, more soaking her feet, more screaming, more sitting and crying because her feet hurt her all day and night but she just couldn't stop scratching them. At one point she was scratching and sobbing, "I just want God to heal me!" So I got down  and prayed with her and rubbed her feet and she stopped crying. Multiple times that week I'd go into a room and have a small tearful breakdown myself. It was rough for all of us. 

Thursday came and the dermatologist was little help. Oddly, he didn't even ask us to take off her bandages so he could see her ankles. He said there was definitely an infection exacerbating the problem and prescribed us an oral antibiotic. He also prescribed Elidel, a non-steroid ointment that's supposed to be good for children. UNfortunately, even going through insurance and using a coupon card they gave us, a tube was going to be $800. If it helped Diana's skin, obviously it would be worth a great amount to us, but since we don't know how it affects her, there's little incentive to pay that much money. He did give us a couple small samples and they appear to make her skin red and itchy, so I think we'll skip that one.

The next visit was to our family doctor who, as I've mentioned before, I adore. He really seems to listen and care about my kids and have new ideas based on recent research. I showed him the pictures of her skin throughout the week. He removed the gauze and looked at Diana's raw ankles. He was appropriately shocked and horrified and it was just relieving to have someone else know what we were feeling. His inclination was to hit her eczema hard. He told me I could use a full adult dose of antihistamine for her. In addition, he prescribed another antihistamine that tended to have sedative properties for nighttime. He prescribed a topical antibiotic to be taken in conjunction with the oral antibiotic, as well as a moderate steroid ointment (triamcinolone) and a strong steroid ointment (clobetasol). He gave us an entire box of non-stick pads to take home and put on her feet when we wrapped her up. Hallelujah! 

We had one setback that night, and it was completely my fault. I didn't put her in full footie pajamas and tape her up so she couldn't remove them. Instead I bandaged her and put her in tights which she removed in another late-night screaming/bleeding/scratching episode. Thankfully, that was our last one. 

It's now been five days since we saw the doctor and Diana's feet have healed up marvelously! Healthy new skin everywhere and hardly any open scratches at all. She's definitely still itchy, though, especially around the time the antihistamines wear off, so we're on high alert until her skin is less dry and that subsides. She's not allowed alone anywhere unless she's taped up in full footie pajamas until we're sure that she won't take the opportunity of a free and itchy 30 seconds to scratch herself. 

I have so appreciated people's thoughts, prayers, encouragement, and suggestions. Thank you to the people I texted in moments of despair and frustration who only had positive things to say, though I'm not sure that any of them actually read this long-winded blog. I realize that there are many more serious health problems we could be facing, and I'm thankful that the biggest challenge we face is so easily treatable and not actually life-threatening. Situations like these encourage me to get my prayer life and bible reading in order which leads to improvements in many areas of my life. And it's inspiring to watch Diana's complete faith that God listens to her and will heal her. She'll pray about almost anything at any time- from her eczema to her "pet" ladybugs to squished slugs on the sidewalk. 

So that's how we're doing these days! And now you know. We are SO done with being sick for weeks at a time. Bring on summer! 

Comedy Hour: Family Date

Joseph and I went on our first date in 2007. It was a real, unmistakable, sweep-her-off-her-feet date. Now, I thought he asked if I wanted to "hang out" (like with some friends) rather than "go out," so I, embarrassingly, was in jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie the whole time. But he'd had enough of being just friends with girls and beating around the bush, so when he showed up at my door, he was in a tie and carrying flowers. He opened doors for me and took me to dinner at a nice restaurant where we talked for a while before going for a walk in the moonlight. He even asked to hold my hand! After that we went to his apartment to watch "The Quiet Man" and he asked if he could put his arm around me. At the end of the night, he gave me a hug and thanked me for a nice evening. And that, gentlemen, is how a date is done.

It's now been eight years since our first date and every year on February 26 we go back to McGrath's, the restaurant where we had our first dinner together. Once we had to take a young Diana with us because we remembered that it was the 26th right before dinner time. But mostly it's been a night when just the two of us go out and remember our awesome first date and other happy memories together. This year, because Joseph has a cold, we weren't able to get a babysitter lined up. No worries, we thought, we'll just make it a family date!

SO,
Joseph was feeling a bit out of sorts because he had a cold and had been busy with work all day. I suggested he get in a short workout while I brought the kids to a park. Joseph felt refreshed after a swim and the kids got some energy out at a wet, sandy playground. I was prepared with an extra change of nicer clothes for all of us, so while Joseph was in the locker rooms at the gym, I changed all three kids out of their wet, sandy clothes in the back of the car.

We were quickly seated in a relatively deserted section of the restaurant. When we had one child, I might have been insulted, but now I prefer it that way. Matthew began shrieking obnoxiously loudly so we quickly sanitized all the surfaces we could reach and started laying out handfuls of Cheerios in front of him, which seemed to satisfy him. While he stuffed Cheerios in his little chipmunk cheeks, Joseph and I hurriedly scanned the menu while Liam tried scaling the dividers between booths and attempted to get the attention of the people on the other side of the restaurant by peeking over and yelling "HEY!!!" Choosing what you'd like to order when you have kids along is a ten minute long process of scanning the menu over and over again for appetizing keywords and/or pictures while being attacked on all sides by questions, forks, crayons, and demands for water and French fries. I estimate that at any given time during those ten minutes, only as much as 5% of your brain power is actually devoted to figuring out what you're going to eat. Usually right before the server comes to take your order or deliver food, someone has to go potty, and our night out was no exception. So by the time we'd been in there 30 minutes or so, Joseph and I had the chance to actually make eye contact and at least try to begin a conversation about two or three times. Yes, having kids along will change things.

Now, as a side story, Matthew had been having some, well, digestive issues and hadn't made a dirty diaper in a couple of days. So when I saw The Face, I knew we had an impending disaster of Biblical proportions on our hands. (Parents, you know The Face: suddenly staring pensively into the middle distance, becoming red and straining...) Of course this happened AS the food was being set on the table. So I left Joseph and the kids and took Matthew out through the nearly freezing drizzle to find the diaper bag and change him in the back of the car. It was as harrowing as I feared. Fortunately, I had enough wipes. UNfortunately, I had only brought one change of clothes for each child, and Matthew had just rendered his unusable. His other clothes were soaked and sandy. Liam had wet his pants at the park, so those were out of the question. Out there in the chilly darkness, I had to sort through to find the least objectionable clothes to put on my nearly-naked (but clean!) child. The best option was his sister's mildly sandy pants from the park and his brother's shirt.

So we returned, with Matthew dressed in girls' pants and a mismatched shirt that were both two sizes two big. We fed Matthew French fries and Cheerios and rice, but for some reason what he really wanted were Joseph's roasted vegetables. I'd forgotten to buckle him down after bringing him back from the car, so he tried standing up to grab them and swipe at the check while Joseph was trying to pay, prompting him to observe that it was "like having a demented old man sitting next to you," which made me nearly choke on my food.

So I was trying not to choke from laughing while eating and I was leaning across the table to wrestle Matthew back into his high chair while he grabbed at roasted vegetables and Joseph tried to hold the check out the way and calculate a tip. Liam had seized Joseph's phone and was holding it up to his ear yelling "Hello? Hello?!" while Diana was admonishing me because she had just been informed that we weren't getting dessert. It was a perfect little circus of hilarity. It looked like something out of a sitcom. While it was chaotic, neither Joseph or I really minded the madness. After all, when we went on our first date eight years ago, we liked each other very much. The way he tells it, he knew pretty soon after we started dating that he wanted to marry me, and I just wanted to be with him. What could be happier than two people who after eight years together have a happy marriage and three healthy, energetic kids? It was fun going back to where it began with the three people who are now part of our family. (Though we agreed that next year, we are definitely going to find a babysitter.)

But that's not all! While we were packing up, Diana noticed a fingernail that needed to be trimmed. Her middle one. So she kept flipping her middle finger up and sticking it in my face while chattering about how it needed to be trimmed when we got home. When she had finished with that, she pulled up her dress and flashed people absentmindedly, as little girls do. We got the circus under way, but in the entrance to the restaurant, Liam began doing an exaggerated cowboy waddle and complaining suddenly that his diaper was falling off. Our hands were full of leftovers, Matthew, and holding Diana's hand, so we told him to just hoist it up until we were at the car. Once at the car, we fixed Liam's diaper, got everyone strapped into their seats, and climbed in ourselves, at which point Matthew sneezed rice everywhere. Apparently he'd been holding it in his mouth the entire time for just such an occasion.

It's a happy, wild, messy little circus we have. But we wouldn't change a thing.
(But seriously, if anyone is free next February 26, please give us a call...)

Babies

Our own one-year-old boy!

I have been reflecting on the many wonderful qualities of babies lately. Two things have caused this, mainly: first, my own baby turned one year old today! (What?!?! Waaaaahahahaaaa!) And secondly, I tried watching a documentary that was too horrifying even for me.

On the first point, my own Matthew baby has become a person of years rather than months?

That's how I feel about that. 

He is still the nicest baby I could have ever hoped for. He made a frighteningly sudden entrance to the world, but since then he has just been incredibly good-natured. I love the way he loves music. He will dance or sing along to almost anything he hears, especially if it has a good beat. He's starting to love books, though he has little patience for them. And I love how he is so interested in learning about the world. He is clearly very interested in learning to speak and in the nuances of interacting with others. I can tell because of how intently he studies people. He's really trying to learn and he is starting to imitate words and gestures more. Watching babies learn to be like the people around them is definitely one of my favorite parts of parenting.

But I think that one of the best parts of being a parent by far is watching my kids become siblings. Having kids can be exhausting and maddening, but let's not forget that the joyous times are almost divine. There is nothing like watching your new baby idolize and imitate their older siblings, or watching your older kids become protective and caring of their younger siblings. Seeing Matthew grow up is definitely bittersweet, but seeing him become a playmate to his brother and sister- seeking them out to join in their games, or trying to get a laugh out of them and then doing the same thing over and over to keep them laughing, is one of my favorite things about having kids. I know having only one child is just right for some people, but what a joy it is to make your own pack of playmates who love (and sometimes annoy) each other and are all part of your own family! 

As we leave the baby stage behind and begin to look forward to toddler-hood (Matthew is already halfway-successfully walking almost everywhere!), I've been thinking about how very unique and special babies are. The smell of a warm baby is wonderful. Their early grunts and wheezes and then cooing and babbles (and first baby laughs!) are the best. I love the way they feel when they wiggle and snuggle. I love the way their eyes search yours when they are asking for something. I love the way they so completely need people and can be so utterly satisfied by having their needs met. It is wonderful that they are the early stages of humans that can potentially change the world, but I've just been appreciating that baby stage for how incredible it is. 

Maybe that's why I finally met a documentary I wasn't able to finish.

I've mentioned before that I watch a lot of documentaries. It's kind of my way of learning about the world and how people see it while I'm in a season of life that doesn't allow for a lot of exploration. Also, for whatever reason, I'm drawn to the really raw, depressing kind. I am not the type to watch a documentary about food or artists. My style is the kind of film that will leave you down for a week, wondering what kind of world we live in and how you can change anything while you're such a small, insignificant part of it. War, orphans, torture, incarceration, violence, etc. Don't you also want to know about the ugly parts of the world so you can change them? No? Just me then? Fine.

Anyway, I read an article recently that was written in response to the PBS Documentary "After Tiller," about the plight of the few doctors who still perform late-term abortions in the wake of the murder of Dr. George Tiller. Matt Walsh, the author of the article, made some good points, I thought, but I'd never seen the documentary, so I didn't know if it was particularly fair or accurate. Because Facebook likes to broadcast everything I do or think, one of my friends saw that I'd "liked" the article and said she actually thought the film was very balanced and heartbreaking. We have different political views, but since I respect her and enjoy PBS documentaries and since I usually believe in examining both sides of an issue before making a decision, I decided to watch it. 

(SPOILERS AHEAD)

I should start off by saying that I classify myself as pro-life. Even after I became a Christian, I was probably more pro-choice because I'd never really thought about abortion. It just seemed like adults should be able to make their own decisions about their lives. But I made some offhand comment one day to my then-boyfriend Joseph about how bothersome pro-life protesters on campus were and he stopped me and asked what my views were about abortion and why. He said it was very important to him because of what abortion was to the babies that were aborted: unspeakably cold, cruel, murder. I'd never thought about the fact that there were at least two lives- mother's and child's- that were impacted by abortion. I decided to look into it more and what I found horrified me. I became pro-life and my resolve only strengthened over time, especially after I had children. 

I confess (unashamedly) that I was only able to get through the first five minutes of the film before I became so horrified and disgusted that I had to turn it off. And I've watched a lot of documentaries about horrifying subjects. There is a brief introduction to Dr. George Tiller, his murder, and the other few late-term abortion providers in the United States. Then we are shown a scene in an examination room with a doctor, a nurse or two, and a woman who isn't shown. The doctor performs an ultrasound. You can see a baby on the screen, moving around like any healthy baby. He tells her she can look or not look at the screen, it's her choice. He sounds very soothing and compassionate. The film cuts to later in the same examination room with the same people. The mother is now lightly sobbing. The nurses bustle around. The doctor speaks to her gently, like a father, assuring her how completely natural and okay it all is. It's unclear if he is referring to her reaction or the procedure, but it doesn't really matter. We are to understand that her baby is dead. 

The people in the room killed the baby that was innocently moving around on the screen only moments before. Those that didn't commit the act were accomplices. It is an atrocity committed on what was clearly a human being, though apparently an inconvenient one. And the most sickening part is listening to the compassionate voice of the doctor over the sobs of the mother, who obviously instinctively feels that she just committed an unnatural and irreversible crime. I couldn't watch anymore. Like I said, a baby is incredibly special. And it grieves me that there are people who facilitate the murder of something so precious, and that there are mothers who see killing their children as their best and only option. It is strange to me that I could pay someone to give my baby a lethal injection, then cut them apart and rip them from my body one week; but if, a few weeks later, I were to give birth to that same baby and pick them up and throw them against a wall, I could be charged with murder. It is all unnatural. It is all wrong. 

So those are the reasons babies have been on my mind recently. I don't think my love of babies made the documentary more distasteful than it would have been at any other time. I think the subject matter is just awful. It has made me think about what I can do to help the at-risk babies and their mothers that turn to abortion. I don't have an answer for that yet. Until then, I'll just enjoy and snuggle the babies (and, soon, toddlers!) that I have been blessed with. They are so special.

Because babies do things like this! 

And also they can be cute like my babies!