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!

Christmas 2014

I'm not sure how it happened, but it's already the end of the year again! This year seemed to go by especially quickly. It may have had something to do with the sleepless haze of having a new baby. Here is what we've been up to this year:

The House

The amount of improvement our house has seen this year makes it almost unrecognizable (in a good way). We moved out briefly while the old growth hardwood floors were refinished, the living room ceiling was vaulted, the sheet rock was finished and everything was painted. What was once a small, stained, and dark area is suddenly bigger and filled with natural light. We left some of the original structural beams that run across the house and they add a nice rustic touch. Additionally, the wasted space that used to be a strange hallway in the back of the house was remodeled into a carpeted office, a mud room, and an area that will be the second bathroom.

Exterior changes include landscaping the back yard, having the house painted (by Joseph's most excellent family!), and installing a porch railing and new gutters. One of the nice things about starting with a fixer-upper is that this house just keeps getting cuter and more comfortable the longer we live here. :)

Our Family

Matthew at 10 months old

Obviously the most notable thing that happened to our family this year was welcoming our own Matthew Timothy on January 22. With the exception of a couple of teething episodes, Matthew has been the happiest, most easy-going and cheerful baby I've ever met. He just loves being around his family (including the dog, whom he seeks out whenever she's inside). He doesn't say much, maybe because his two energetic siblings make so much noise already, but he loves laughing, interacting, cuddling, playing games, and trying to keep up with his brother and sister. He's crawling and starting to stand up by himself and walk while holding on to people's hands. He also stands and scoots along while holding on to chairs, tables, etc. and is finally starting to enjoy a variety of solid foods.

Liam- practicing looking cool

I read somewhere that the definition of a boy is "noise with dirt on it." And that describes Liam pretty well. He's an outrageous ball of fire with a big heart who is deeply loyal to his family. Liam lives out loud- quite literally. Almost everything he does or says is at about 200 decibels. He's initially shy of people, but when he gets to know you there's almost nothing he won't do with you, including singing, having dance parties, and telling jokes. (He has a very Cespedes sense of humor.) He loves playing with his sister, roughhousing, and having books read to him.

Diana loves picking and smelling flowers.

Diana is sprouting up like a weed and becoming smarter, more talkative, and more inquisitive every day. She is constantly asking questions because she has an unquenchable desire to learn about the world. Her favorite book is her Illustrated Encyclopedia. She loves poring through it and asking me to explain everything. She is an excellent "Vice Mother" who I can count on to check on "the boys" and keep them in line. She is especially gentle and caring to Matthew. One of the more interesting changes is that her blonde hair is beginning to darken and (I fancy) take on more of a reddish tint. I think anyone who met Diana would not be surprised if she turned out to be a redhead. ;)

Joseph's company, Active911, continues to grow, hire new employees, and expand to new regions around the world, praise God! In addition, he and his brother and a friend in the industry started a new trucking company called Mammoth Transport. Alyrica Internet is also doing well and continues to grow. When he's not running a business, working on our house, or spending time with us, he's been putting in a lot of hours training to get his instrument rating so that he can fly in weather that limits the ability of a pilot to see the ground (a pretty useful thing to have in Oregon).

Adventures

This year our adventures have largely centered around flying. Joseph and his brother Kevin bought an airplane- a little Cessna 172- which Joseph has been flying every chance he gets. It only has four seats, but we've still managed to pack our family of five in for a few flights- up to Salem for dinner at the airport, on an unplanned weekend trip to Tacoma, Washington, and to Hood River for my mom's wedding. If you received one of our Christmas cards, it's the airplane behind us in our pictures. If you didn't for some reason (maybe my still-recovering-from-pregnancy memory failed me, or you didn't give me your address...but it was probably your fault somehow), here's the picture, taken by Joseph's photographic genius sister Miriam.

We also traveled to Oahu this year as a family to visit Joseph's Sullivan relatives and enjoy some tropical beaches. The kids loved meeting their great grandmother. Matthew enjoyed eating as much sand as he could fit in his mouth. We all enjoyed visiting with lots of amazing family and friends like Nichole's former swim coach.

Because we love traveling, we try to go on one big family adventure every few years. This year we went to New Zealand! We went primarily to visit our friends the Fallons who live in Australia. Joseph and Shawn Fallon have known each other for years and the Fallons have two boys the same ages as Diana and Liam. We all met in New Zealand and spent two weeks having a blast. Joseph's sister Ruth came with us to enjoy the adventure and graciously help out with traveling with kids. (We couldn't have done it without her.) We were able to meet Joseph's Grandpa and Grandma Richards in Auckland and from there we went waaaaay up to the Bay of Islands around Opito Bay where we rented a bach (beach house) for a week. The scenery was dreamlike. Beach access was right down the road, and we had access to a dinghy to go fishing and diving. While Joseph and Shawn were out diving for lobster, we watched from the house as a pod of orcas swam through the bay not too far from them.

Paradise in Opito Bay- the view from our back porch.

Before leaving the Bay of Islands, Joseph, Shawn, and Ruth fulfilled a lifelong dream and went skydiving. They all loved it. I don't think I've ever seen so many big smiles afterward. Our second week we intended to spend in Waihi because of the wonderful things we heard about the area, but after arriving at the log cabin we'd booked, we discovered there was no cell service (necessary for Joseph to stay in touch with his businesses) and the sleeping arrangements weren't ideal. Unfortunately, we weren't able to book another place to stay in the area on such short notice, so we headed to the only available bach that night up the Coromandel peninsula across from a little town called Whitianga. A storm blew in, so the weather wasn't as nice as the first week, but we still managed to get in some kayaking, beach exploration, and fishing. While the wind was howling we all sat inside by the wood-burning stove. The kids ran around and everyone enjoyed themselves. We had a lovely two weeks and got back in mid-December. While it was an exciting trip, we are already enjoying being home and preparing for a normal wintery Christmas.

We are amazingly and graciously blessed in our lives, and so thankful for all of our friends and family. Especially the two of you who took the time to follow the link to this newsletter from our Christmas cards. (Don't tell the others, but you're our favorite!) We hope you have a merry Christmas and a very happy new year!

The perfect place for a family photo- Ambury Park outside of Auckland, New Zealand!

Are You Done?

There are natural conversation-starters in this world. Children are one of them. From the time you become pregnant with your first child, you learn that you've just opened the door to innumerable conversations with perfect strangers about the subject of having kids. Some of it is helpful and, of course, some of it is idiotic. One conversation topic that keeps coming up for us is, "Are you done [with having kids]?'

Truthfully, I didn't mind the first ten times I was asked the question. I still don't really mind if the person asking is a friend or relative who's genuinely interested in the affairs of our family. But after a year or so (people have been asking us this since I was pregnant with our second child), it does start to feel a little suspicious. I don't know- if you'd started making beautiful cakes for a living and after each cake was complete, people asked you if you were finally done making cakes, you'd start to wonder if there was a hidden point to the question, wouldn't you?

For what it's worth, as much as it is up to us to decide (we recognize that sometimes God has surprises in store), we are done. Not because, as most people are ready to believe, we are overwhelmed- that three is an unmanageable number and we're somehow in over our heads and we need to quit. As I mentioned before, having three kids hasn't really been that difficult. I love each one of our kids and I will genuinely miss having a baby in our house. But it really feels as if a switch has been turned off in my mind and it's something I just don't deeply desire anymore. There's a lot less hand-wringing and nail-biting than I'd imagined in the decision not to have more kids. I'm pretty much at peace with the idea.

As Liam grew older, we struggled a lot with the decision to keep having kids or stay with two, but I felt like there was someone around that I couldn't see. It felt like someone was missing and that I was always forgetting someone when I was loading up the car or tucking kids into bed. Soon I became pregnant and I found I was actually excited about the idea of having another baby. I calculated their birth date. I thought a little bit about names. I wondered if they'd have the same birthday as Diana (they were due November 2013). I wasn't able to do all of that for long, because one day I started bleeding very heavily and felt sick with heavy heavy cramps that kept me in bed all day. I had a miscarriage. It was very early on. I probably wasn't more than five or six weeks along. But I'd been able to make plans around this little person and suddenly they weren't with us anymore. We hadn't even really gotten to know them. The excitement I felt upon learning we were expecting and the confusing depression and disappointment when I miscarried made me realize I still wanted to have more children. Thankfully, two months later God gave us our Matthew.

Now our family just feels complete. I don't look around anymore with the feeling that I'm forgetting someone unseen. Of course we'd be happy if we had another child, but it's not really in our plans.

That doesn't mean that it's easy in any way to watch our kids grow up. I'm trying to savor Matthew's baby-hood as much as humanly possible. He's almost eight months old and still not interested in solid foods, and truthfully I don't really care. Breastfeeding is still one of the most wonderful things in the world to me. Every developmental milestone is just a little bittersweet because I know it's another step toward being a toddler running around with his brother and sister. He's already too wiggly to sit in my arms for snuggles. My husband has been incredibly patient with my tendency to, within the bounds of law and order in our house, indulge him as the last baby a bit. Still, it's a little difficult. We started having kids before all our friends and now after a whirlwind four years, our baby-having days are done while they're still growing their families. I think we decided we were done before most of our family members too. So while I was able to go through the journey of pregnancy and having kids with a large community of people (especially during my last two pregnancies), I don't know anyone who's reached the end of that road yet. It's a little lonely. There are no other moms to talk to about the slight sadness of giving away baby clothes you'll never use anymore, or disassembling fixtures like the bouncer or baby swing. We have many wonderful years ahead of us with our three goofy kids, but there are no new additions to look forward to, just our kids growing up. Excuse me for a moment-

I'm better now. One wonderful thing about being part of a community of growing families is that there will never ever be a shortage of babies around! I know of three that were born in the last two months. Because of colds going around our house, I've only gotten to cuddle one of them, but there's always more time for that and I know of even more on the way in coming months. I've always enjoyed babies without being baby-crazy, but I may just end up turning into the aunt that won't put down her nieces/nephews/any other babies people will allow her to hold. (Fair warning, relatives! Hide yo' kids!)

How did you know when your family was complete? Or how do you handle people asking about it?

Comedy Hour: The Relatives

I try not to write about things too soon after they occur. Time creates a nice distance that allows me to view events in a more emotionally detached way, which can be very useful. But this just needs to be shared because I think it's something that all parents have experienced.

We're in Hawaii on the island of Oahu. It's beautiful. It's idyllic. It's basically like wandering around through a slightly crowded tropical paradise.

Paradise is full of scenes like this

We've been able to meet up with friends like one of my past swim coaches and we're staying with Joseph's aunt and her family. Absolutely beautiful people. They couldn't be more wonderful and welcoming than if they were actually my blood relatives. I love staying with them. While we were here, we got the opportunity to see some of Joseph's uncles, whom he hadn't seen in decades. We first met them without the kids- Joseph's aunt watched them while we went out to dinner and had a lovely adult conversation. It was especially interesting because it turns out Joseph and his youngest uncle have very similar personalities, thought processes, and interests. They could basically be brothers. This uncle and his wife (may they never find this blog) were friendly, funny, charming people, and they invited us over to their house for an early dinner. 

All of us.

Fellow parents... you know.

These lovely people recently got married but don't have any kids yet. So despite their best efforts to make us feel welcome, their home wasn't really kid-friendly. I totally don't fault them for that. I've never kept a family of ferrets in my house, so my home isn't ferret-proof. You just can't know that you shouldn't leave water bottles or glass picture frames within three feet of the floor until your kids have pulled them down at least once. 

Unfortunately, we were starting this whole evening at a disadvantage. The kids took short, broken naps, or in the case of our eldest child, skipped naps altogether. A lack of consistent sleeping schedule coupled with strange surroundings have made our kids a little off-kilter this entire trip. On top of it all, I forgot my first rule of outings with kids, which is to lower all expectations until they can be lowered no more. It was because these were nice family members and I enjoyed being around them and wanted to make a good impression. My fault. So I got myself all wound up when our kids were acting like kids. 

What happened exactly, you ask? Well...

We pulled up to their house and all got out of the car to say hello. They have an Australian Shepherd who is very smart, very energetic, and was barking at us very loudly. That made Diana and Matthew a little nervous and nearly sent Liam over the edge. He had an experience when he was younger that left him afraid of aggressive or intense dogs, even if they're just being intensely friendly. So the kids were nervous right off the bat. I don't blame the dog for that at all. I know that good dogs, like good kids, sometimes don't act socially acceptable. Whatever. However, Diana is actually allergic to dogs. So though the dog and the kids eventually reached a state of detente, Diana very shortly became horribly itchy and uncomfortable because she petted the dog and because there was dog hair in the house. Her face began to break out in hives and she began to cry. We mostly put out that fire by wiping her down with a wet rag. 

Matthew, who has spent a lot of time riding around in his car seat during this trip, started yelling from his perch on an ottoman because he absolutely did not want to be left in his seat any longer, so I had to hold him the whole time. He was almost entirely pleasant, but makes for a very wiggly happy handful at this point.

Liam was doing what Liam does- thoughtlessly touching everything he shouldn't. He took the tops off of water bottles, pulled on the cords of shades, pushed pillows off the couch, stepped on his sister's foot (more yelling), pounded on the glass shower door in the bathroom- just stuff a little boy will do in a place that isn't really set up for little boys yet. 

After much whining from kids (and some genuine fear because the dog followed them everywhere) while I juggled Matthew and tried to half-participate in conversation with the other adults, dinner was ready. They put together a really lovely dinner with local dishes. It was healthy and tasted delicious. But of course, Diana needed to have mac and cheese (and though she had insisted upon it, literally the first thing she uttered on tasting it was, "This doesn't taste good.") Liam had a hamburger, though only part of it because he was so energetic and distracted that he kept hopping down and using the couches for tumbling practice instead of eating dinner. And Matthew mostly sat on my lap and made eating difficult by trying (and sometimes succeeding) at grabbing handfuls of my dinner. I had given up adult conversation by this point. I was getting wound up and mostly death-whispering to the kids to sit still and/or stop bothering each other and/or stop whining. Joseph was absorbed in conversation with his uncle, and I'm glad they got the chance to talk. But this situation would have been impossible to deal with even if we'd both devoted all our attention to it. We were trying to make kids act like adults and I was setting us all up for failure with impossibly high standards. 

For dessert, Joseph's aunt had made a lilikoi (passionfruit) chiffon pie from fruit grown in their yard. (I told you this was a tropical paradise!) However, because our kids don't react well to sugar, I suggested to a very interested Diana that we would share some pie. That didn't sit well with her, so she slipped into the kitchen where Joseph's aunt was dishing out pie and asked for (and got) her own piece. Of course his aunt couldn't have known that Diana wasn't supposed to get her own piece of pie. I only discovered it when Diana marched into the living room where we were all sitting munching on a generous slice of chiffon pie. That was straight up naughty, but we couldn't really discipline right then because we would risk making his relatives feel bad. So I told Diana she could eat half of the pie and we would take the other half home (where she would never ever see it again, but I didn't tell anyone that part). It was only when I began eating my slice of pie (minus a handful that Matthew claimed) that I had a shocking realization.

Chiffon pie is light and silky only because it's made with eggs. Beaten, lightly cooked eggs.

There are only a few things in the world that Diana is allergic to enough to throw up if she ingests them: Peanuts, tree nuts, and eggs. 

Yes.

Right on cue, Diana began to cry and complain because her stomach hurt which rapidly became "my throat is stinging" and her cheeks began to swell up. I experienced her reaction to undercooked eggs in the past, so I didn't really fear an anaphylactic reaction, but I knew she needed antihistamines fast. Thankfully, there was some Benadryl in the house so we gave her that and made our exit. She was wailing because she was in genuine distress. I had to put Matthew down in his chair to carry him to the car, which caused him to scream to high heaven. They live on a hill, so I had Liam follow me down the steps, but of course he managed to trip on his ever-present blanket and tumble past the side of me. I don't even know how many times he hit his head on the concrete steps. He wasn't bleeding, but he was definitely hurting. Joseph's aunt and uncle were so nice. They came out to wish us goodbye through the screaming symphony of our whole little circus. I was wound up as tight as could be and fuming at the way things had played out. The kids fell asleep on the car ride home, but each woke up to yell in turn as we carried them into the house. Diana was the last to come in, and though Joseph sprinted admirably, she still threw up on both of them. And the sink. And the other sink. On the plus side, he now finally believes me when I tell him Diana is allergic to eggs. It only really takes one time being vomited upon to make you a believer. 

And now, we all rest. I'm going to bed. I'm sure by tomorrow this will all seem laughable.

Do you have a cry-larious story about visiting relatives with kids?

Nine reasons why kids are the best

I know many stay-at-home moms, myself included, who will acknowledge how blessed we are to be able to stay at home with our children, but in the next breath can talk (at length) about how frustrating and maddening is our job. That's kind of the nature of things, isn't it? We're not here to be buddies with the kids and have fun all day long. We're here to train them to be good people, and that means that sometimes there will be friction.

There's a fine balance between sharing enough with other mothers to encourage camaraderie or raise awareness and just venting in a negative way about your family. I'm still trying to find the right balance, but lest anyone ever doubt it, I love my kids- sometimes so much I can't even describe it. And while some days are bananas, there are a lot of reasons why being around kids all day is really awesome. Here are nine reasons that kids are the best:

1. Unconditional love- This is easily the best and most overwhelmingly beautiful reason why being around kids is so awesome.When I mess up (which is on the daily- maybe more like every few minutes), I miraculously don't have to worry that my kids are going to love me any less or even hold a grudge. It wouldn't even occur to them. If I am becoming a loud and grouchy mama bear, they still tell me I'm their best and favoritist mommy. When I am eaten up with guilt over having lost it again and apologize to them, they forgive me completely and freely, with smiles and hugs. They don't think to compare me to other mothers the way I do myself because in their minds I'm the only mommy for them and of course I'm perfect. It is so precious to have such soft and open little hearts to take care of!
2. No judgment- You don't feel like changing out of yoga pants, doing your makeup, eating healthy like a grown-up, or leaving the house? No problem! Kids could run around naked eating chicken nuggets all day (in fact, that may be child Nirvana), so they seriously don't care if you do the same. 
3. Complete acceptance- I realize this is kind of a double-edged sword. There are bad people, bad behaviors, and bad ideas in the world, and kids need to be taught about them. However, I love watching the complete open acceptance of people. Kids are just open. My dad is Pacific Islander, so he looks different from the rest of our pretty white family. Even if I pointed that fact out, I doubt my kids would notice it. They adore him. We go to an International Moms and Babies group and the kids just don't see any difference in each other, even if they're from vastly different cultures. Are you a different race/ethnicity? Don't speak English? Are you handicapped? Rich? Poor? Who cares? Don't pull my hair, and we'll share animal crackers. I love watching that.
4. Playtime!- If you want to surround yourself with people who love blowing bubbles, painting, running around, or playing in sprinklers, stay home with your kids. They are always up for fun.
5. Human Growth and Development 102- This part is a personal favorite because it's something that I find fascinating. I love watching the way people's brains work. It is amazing to watch three people at three different stages of cognitive development who are constantly learning.  It's like having your own observational study right in your own home. (Nerd alert.)
6. Creating your own family culture- It started with inside jokes and shared beliefs between me and my husband. Now, as a family we share our own special language, memories, nicknames, preferences, goals, values, you name it. And I get to hold a special place in shaping our culture. Dads may traditionally be the head of the family, but mothers are the heart. I find my husband and kids becoming interested in the things I value, and I've become interested in the things they like. It's like creating your own club.
7. Seeing yourself and your loved-ones- This is beautiful and bittersweet. I see my husband in my kids, which is wonderful, because I love him dearly. Liam looks and sounds like my Pacific Islander dad and his side of the family, and acts like my brothers. Diana reminds me often of my little sister, and causes me to dwell a lot on how I treated her growing up. Matthew looks like my mom's side of the family, which makes me wish they were closer so I could share that with them. In my kids faces, sometimes I catch glimpses of my paternal grandmother, who I miss even now. She would have adored getting to meet them. She would have appreciated the fact that Diana loves eating seaweed. I see reflections of myself in them, which can be good and bad. Children are like little mirrors for whatever bad attitudes or habits you might have, which is humbling. Mostly, though, I see in my kids the combination of generations of remarkable people. 
8. Company- Life with kids is never lonely, and not just because they won't even let you out of their sight to go to the bathroom. You're always surrounded by little people who love and need you. And in times that would otherwise be very lonely, that's a great feeling.
9. Physical affection- I remember visiting my mom when I was in college, and she asked for a hug. I thought it was odd, but she pointed out that she never got hugs anymore. She was single and my siblings and I were all either in college or high school, and none of us ever thought to give my mom or each other hugs. In fact, if you're an adult who's not in a relationship, you probably don't experience a lot of physical affection. When you're surrounded by kids, you're smothered in physical affection all day long. Hugs, kisses, climbing, wrestling, snuggling, sitting on your lap, trying to suck/chew on your face/elbow/hands (that'd be the baby), playing with your hair... sometimes it's overwhelming, but I know I'm going to miss all these joyous physical expressions of affection.

After writing all these down, I just want to go give my kids big hugs. Being a mother really is incredibly special. Can you think of any more reasons kids are awesome?