Life in Crazy Land

This captures my day so well

In case you hadn't heard, our lives are crazy full right now over Chez Szrama.  In addition to our own precious kiddos growing and getting into all sorts of fun, we are hosting two extras kiddos (from within my extended family) while their mama gets some stuff sorted out.  V just turned 6 and is in kindergarten, while A is 3 and a half.  I also still nanny for L, who just turned 2, 3-ish days a week.  So, what's life like with 5 kiddos underfoot?

Well, it's busy.

But I'm living my dream. :)  Since the time I was very small, I dreamed of running a house full of children, especially children who needed extra love.  As a teenager I wrote imaginary Christmas newsletters updating my future friends on all my imaginary children year to year. (Ryan still hasn't read these.  Babe, you knew I wasn't normal when you married me, sorry.)  Working with children is something the Lord keeps leading me to; I've been told I'm good at it, and it brings me great joy.  So I'm over the moon.  Having kids simultaneously napping all over our house also kind of makes me feel like I have my favorite super power of sleep-induction.  Maybe I should see a psychologist.

In all seriousness, one of my favorite Bible verses is Psalm 68:6-

"He sets the lonely within families; He leads out the prisoners with singing, but the rebellious shall live in a sun-scorched land."  

I love being a part of fulfilling that verse, whether it was by bringing home college friends for Sunday dinner, sharing the Gospel with hurting people, welcoming old friends to our family table no matter what our food budget was, or now by tucking in two more at bedtime.

Also, we knew this was something God wanted from us.  When we became aware of the girls' situation, both Ryan and I immediately wanted to say "yes."  When Ryan and I agree on anything, that's kind of a divine sign. :)  (Especially if it involves me saying "yes" to anything... Ryan's usually my "let someone ELSE say yes-- you can't do it all!" coach.)  And as countless before me have experienced, when He calls, He enables.

Even youths grow tired and weary; young men stumble and fall.  But those who wait upon the Lord will renew their strength; they will rise up on wings, like eagles.  They will run & not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.  Isaiah 40

Our day to day routine starts like this:
6:45 ish- roll out of bed & into my bathrobe, get downstairs to start making V's lunch and commence breakfast.
7- rouse V and get her to start dressing herself through any manner of threat and coersion  (Of course on Saturdays this is reversed and she wakes up raring to go.  God's sense of humor is kind of sick sometimes.) As she eats, I do her hair, cook breaskfast for everyone else, make my coffee, pack her lunch, write her a little note, and review our memory verse.
7:40- Ryan takes V to school, which is mercifully 5 minutes away from us on foot.
8- the other prisoners (ie Eowyn, William & A) are allowed out of their beds and begin munching.  Usually during breakfast L gets dropped off.  (If you're wondering at what point I take my shower and get dressed... ummm, yeah... I haven't really figured out how that fits in, either.)

Since Classical Conversations is over for the school year, we are settling into a homeschool routine that we like.  I aim to do "circle time" with everyone 3 days a week, followed by a math lesson (A kind of tags along and the boys make general mischief).  I get the girls at the table to work on handwriting (E) and number/letter/color/shape recognition (A).  Wednesdays we head to dance for E, during which I get to Zumba (the other kids try it too), then library story time, then lunch at Nina (my mom)'s.  E & I do one lesson in Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons about 3-4 days a week.  E is enjoying experiments with TOPS Get a Grip math supplement... during lunch we work on Bible verses from My ABC Bible Verses.  There is a lot of playing.  E is LOVING having sisters!  The little boys absolutely adore each other and come up with games of their own invention (such as the "ow" game, where they pretend to knock their heads against a hard surface, intoning "owwww" and laughing uproariously).  Another favorite is "Jump," in which case one or both of them hauls any object-- stool, book, beanbag, anything else Mom hasn't yet confiscated-- to the middle of the floor, and they jump off of it.  Repeatedly.  We head to parks pretty often, too.

Everyone naps between 1 & 2 (well, E naps every other day or so-- the off days she picks a quiet activity and plays ALONE as long as others are sleeping).  Usually that includes me.  Ryan brings V home around 3, and she goes straight to the kitchen table for a snack and homework.  I often make us some tea to share and she's starting to learn how to tell me about her day.  Her situation has made her quite behind academically, so we started at the beginning of TYCTR and have done one lesson each school day.  Then I coach her in handwriting, drill some sight words, and if E isn't napping, we do a number or word game together.

By this point usually some of the kids are awake and if it's remotely sunny they are clamoring to go outside.  This is where my life is much easier in some ways than it used to be. THEY ALL PLAY TOGETHER!!  Outside they troupe, usually first to ride bikes/push each other in the stroller/ pull each other in the wagon, and then they transition to some form of story-play.  Last week they've been poor people looking for a home, mother birds sitting on nests, Easter bunnies hiding eggs, mommies visiting each other, or cafe vendors selling smoothies & coffee.  Liam just wants to play basketball.  I try to interact with them a bit-- reading books aloud to everyone, playing, pushing or pulling on bikes, doing sidewalk chalk art, acting out a fairy tale (we really like the Three Billy Goats Gruff).  L's mama comes around this time and whisks him away; often we chat for a while (or a long while =D).

I make dinner... I've learned to get the kids started cleaning up earlier so it's done by dinner time.  They clamor to help me set the table and I let them.  We try to eat by 6:30 but we often are late-- either I haven't gotten my act together or Ryan works late.  Dinner is chaos... between our anorexic, highchair-hating-toddler (that would be Liam), an incredibly slow eater, kids still needing various degrees of help, trying to hear about everyone's day and a sudden advent of eye-ball-popping-out and poop-related stories... dinner is not for the faint of heart.  And just about every night amidst all the craziness and me giving someone the evil eye my heart just melts and I tell Ryan "oh please, when can we have some more?"

Dinner is swiftly followed by bed time.  That is one thing that DOES take longer the more kids you have!! Right now we are preparing for Easter with our Resurrection Eggs, which I love doing with the kids.  I am amazed at how much Liam loves them!  He begs to open "eggies" throughout the day, squeals with delight as each is opened, and is a generally enthusiastic nuisance the whole time they are out.  Hopefully he's learning something.  The girls are certainly starting to grasp the narrative of Passion week, and I pray that the reality of the Atonement sinks in.

Once eggs are opened and closed, Ryan takes over.  He supervises teeth-brushing, PJs & final potty-ing, and then reads them a Bible story.  We are into the NT in The Jesus Story Book Bible.  He sings & prays with them.  Meanwhile, I take Liam & get him into his PJs and we have our own little bedtime routine.  He asks for "che-che" and "Bobo" and I tell him "no!  Che che is yuck!"  He laughs and says "no!  che che is NUMMM!!!" (his version of "yum), or he will tell me "Mama, che-che is yuck" and then laugh and correct himself.  Once he's all dressed and holding as many lovies as he can cram into his arms, I settle into our glider to rock and nurse him to sleep.  I love the chance to snuggle him and smell that sweet little-boy smell.  He is getting so big and I know these days are numbered.

Once he's drowsy or asleep, I plop him in bed (well.... sometimes I might read an extra article online or comment on FB...) and make the rounds of kissing the girls & tucking them all in. Usually they're all waiting up for me.  E usually has some minor medical emergency like a hangnail or toeache or scratch requiring a band-aid...

That's pretty much how it goes!

they played "Doggy" in their self-made "cage" for hours

Don't get me wrong; there are times when I basically just tell everyone to sit down and stop talking... when I tell them that the next person who tattles gets to live outside... when I realize I've been ignoring "Mom! Mom! Mom!" for about 10 minutes... when I realize it's been a week since I opened my Bible... when I just want to be by myself for a whole 5 minutes... when I call my sister and add a topic to our "Least Favorite Ways to Spend My Time" list... when I lose it and shout and sin against my children... when I realize I've made the wrong call and need to backtrack... But overall, this is a good life.  It's a busy season, but it's one I'm enjoying.

We are being blessed by so many others, too.  Our extended family helps with the kids in countless ways; pitching in to get them to and fro, keeping them overnight so Ryan & I can get some us-time, bringing us meals, helping with chores.  We also have been so well-served by our brothers & sisters in Christ -- for the first three weeks after we got the girls, my cooking consisted of re-heating meals others had made.  People have brought over bags of hand-me-downs, given us bikes & toys, welcomed us with all our craziness, and come over and helped us clean.  It's so cool to be at the center of God's plan for His people to serve women & children in need ("widows & orphans")... you get a lot of tangential blessings, to put it geometrically. =D

And let me close with a "plug" for the Daddy of this crazy family.  If our family "tone" is of welcome and friendship, it's because he leads in it.  He excels at entering into people's stories and loving them in them.  He's also been amazing at doing lots of dishes and making sure I don't go insane.  I married a keeper.  =D

The Birth of our Firstborn Son

Ponderously-Cheeked Pondering

  For all of you wanting the short-and-sweet version, here you go:

William Christopher barreled his 10 1/2 lbs into the air at 11:07 Sunday night, June 24th, 2012.  This fulfilled his daddy's wish for a birthday full of multiples of 6, and his mommy's prayer for a birth far quicker that his sister's.  Speaking of Ryan, you can read his account of the story here.

For those of you wanting DETAILS, ta-da!:

William's birth story begins with my 41-week prenatal visit the previous Thursday.  Measurements showed that I was measuring 42 cm (consistent with a 41-week gestational age estimate), and I continued to display all the signs of imminent labor, from strong frequent contractions to the passing of my mucus plug to loose bowels and an unsettled stomach to a totally dropped baby.  But for whatever reason, I had yet to experience the regular, strengthening contractions of "active labor."  My midwife encouraged me to think and pray about using some herbal means of induction if nothing got started on its own, using her decades of experience.  Her theory was that because I was carrying Liam so far "out there" that gravity was actually working against the contractions-- which were trying to bring him in vertical alignment with my very-posterior cervix.  This would explain why I had so many of my strongest contractions at night or in the car, but why they tended to stop when I stood or walked for long periods of time.  She counseled me to wear my belly band at all times.

Ryan requested a weekend induction attempt, and we had a wedding for a family friend that I wanted to attend on Saturday, so we decided that-- if we attempted to kick-start things-- it would be Sunday.  I was still quite unsure about meddling with the natural order of things, so I was researching and praying and re-calculating my due date, and looking at Eowyn's birth records.  What I found was that the herbs my midwife was recommending-- blue & black cohosh-- would not force a labor on an unready cervix or baby, but would rather help coordinate the efforts my body was already naturally making.  When Saturday brought several hard contractions that petered out true to form, and Saturday night proved particularly un-restful and frustrating, I decided that my body had had enough of this pre-labor (it'd been going on in full force for over 2 weeks... 2 weeks of frequent contractions, many nights of nearly no sleep, stomach upset, etc.).

Black cohosh ("snake root") stimulates uterine contractions.  Blue cohosh ("papoose root"-- Native Americans used it in labor extensively) actually calms the uterus, so is useful in stopping preterm or Braxton-Hicks contractions (wish I'd known this about a month ago!).  Taken together the two work to augment and streamline labor.  They are most effective when contractions are already present.  Check!  Normally my midwife recommends a castor-oil cocktail to start contractions, and then uses the herbs, but since I was already contracting, we agreed to start with just the herbs.  (I've heard too many negative things about castor oil...)  So at 10 o'clock Sunday morning, I put the first 2 1/2-droppers of the cohosh tinctures under my tongue.  OOOOOHH talk about burning!!  The tinctures are dissolved in alcohol... so I was popping the gum to make sure I didn't smell like a distillery at church, hehehe.  Every subsequent hour, on the hour, I took a full dropper of each.  Ideally, tinctures are taken under the tongue for fast absorption, but... you try holding whisky under your tongue some time.  By 4 pm I was putting the tinctures into a few ounces of pineapple juice (also good for labor induction).  Contractions were certainly coming but were all too true to form:  irregular.  I tried not to be discouraged as we settled in to our family nap.

I awoke at 4 to a strong contraction.  I tried to rest after that, but noticed that every 20 minutes another contraction came.  They were consistently strong, too.  I tried timing a few and they were about 90 seconds long.  By 5, it was time for my next tincture dose, so I called my midwife & asked if I should keep taking them or wait and see what my body would do on its own.  As contractions were still coming, Mereinda recommended I stop the herbs.  As time progressed, I began to have to "work" to get through the contractions, blowing or saying "oooh" in a deep tone.  Eowyn woke up and needed watching and I had a hard time focusing on her as contractions took more and more concentration.  Ryan woke up and took over Eowyn-duty, explaining that "Mommy's belly is getting really tight, so she makes noise to help it hurt less."  Eowyn accepted this.  I was still reluctant to call my aunt Olga- who would be watching Eowyn- or my Mom- who would accompany us to the birthing center, fearing that this was yet another false alarm.  It wasn't until Ryan pointed out that I hadn't had to vocalize through any of my other contractions that I realized something was different.

At 6 we called in the troops.  I ate some yogurt & started a bowl of cereal, and stayed glued to my birthing ball.  Unlike with most labors, an upright position slowed my contractions (gravity pulling Liam forward instead of down), so sitting on the ball or bed helped keep them intense and regular.  They were 6 minutes apart, then 5, then 4, still lasting 60-90 seconds.  It was a while before my aunt could make it to our house, but thankfully my mom arrived and was able to take care of Eowyn (and wash our dishes =D), since I now needed Ryan to support me through contractions.  He rose to the occasion beautifully, doing his reading in Ina May's Guide to Childbirth justice. I texted some close friends, asking them to pray that this was the real thing, and for a safe (and short!) delivery... while confessing that a part of me wanted to stop the whole thing, because it was starting to hurt!  As Eowyn came to kiss me goodbye, she asked "You not feeling good, Mommy?"  "It's ok, baby girl." Then, with utmost sincerity, "Jesus will help you!"  That comforted my heart.  :) Then she was off, thrilled to be spending the night with some of her favorite people.

We headed to the birth center around 8:30.  I'd tried to hold out a bit because I knew my midwife's son's 18th birthday party was going on, but the labor tub started to sound too appealing to miss.  She tried to check me when we got there, but laying on my back was agony, bringing a seemingly unending contration, and my cervix was still posterior.  By my demeanor and the sounds I was making, she estimated me to be at about 5 cm dilated.

I cannot tell you what a difference that labor tub made.  I will never- NEVER- labor without one again.  I'll stand on my head to stop contractions if I have to. :)  Slipping into the warm water was so comforting.  I told Ryan, "It's actually quite delightful between contractions!"  Mereinda advised me to labor as much as I could leaning back, to try and bring Liam's head over my cervix instead of its current place of low but in front of it.  I could not have complied were it not for the tub.  In the tub, the water's buyoncy provided counter-pressure, supported my legs so I could let them float, and kept the baby's head from jarring against my tailbone as he descended.  Contractions were never pleasant, but they were bearable.  Labor really began moving along.  I entered the slightly-out-of-mind-state of moaning, praying, etc., through a contraction, and then nearly falling asleep.  Ryan kept reminding me to relax my hands, to have loose lips, and my doula-training kept me keeping my tone low and to relax as much as I could (hah- NOT natural for me!).  I told Ryan that these contractions felt more intense than the ones I'd had with Eowyn, and he was surprised, since he thought I was handling them much better.  I count the tub & my doula experience for that.

I began to get unbearably sleepy around 10, telling Ryan pitifully after a contraction "I just wish they'd stop so I can go to sleep...I'm so so tired."  Mereinda immediately began trying to get me to eat, but the most I wanted was a few bites of very soggy cereal, so she pushed the gatorade, saying she was concerned about my energy level.  This did perk me up a bit.  I tried a few different positions, but mostly labored on my back.  When I had to get out of the water to use the bathroom, contractions would become far worse.  Even in the water, a few times it felt like someone was taking a hacksaw to my back.  Ryan would provide counter-pressure, rub my head, encourage me, and keep me drinking water.  A few times I was overwhelmed by contractions, having to work very hard to keep any semblance of control, crying out loud to Jesus for strength, and talking to William "move down, baby!"  I remember also repeating "the baby-- I want to see the baby."  A few times I told Ryan I didn't want to do this anymore, or just cried that it hurt.  My first successful cervical check came at 10:45, when I was declared to be 7 cm dilated, with a fully anterior cervix, & a baby ready at +1 station.  I just want to take a second here to praise my midwife's compassion and skill-- she was constantly assessing my progress based on how I sounded, how I described my pain, and how I looked, NOT using monitors and numbers (though she regularly checked William's heart rate with a doppler.). Her voice was reassuring and kind, even as she gave me instructions or recommendations.

By now I knew I was in "transition."  Contrations became closer together, longer, with a more intense peak.  At least I knew I wouldn't have to deal with them long. With Eowyn, I'd had my water broken at 7 cm, and only labored 4 more hours.  I decided to hold off on breaking my water since I hadn't been laboring all that long. Not 15 minutes later I told Merienda that I was feeling "pushy."  She checked me again (can I say how much better being checked is in the water??) and announced that I was nearly complete, with only a tiny little bit of the cervix left in front.  The very next contraction I shouted "I'm pushing and I can't stop!"  Pop!  With a feeling like a water balloon untying, and a burst of fluid, I broke my own bag of waters for the first time. That was a good feeling. :)  Merienda took one look at the water and said "there's a bit of meconium in the fluid, so in case we have to suction him, I'm going to need you to deliver on the bed.  I know it's going to be hard to get out and move, so just give it every bit of strength that you've got!"

Moving wasn't too bad.  I made it to the 4-poster bed, collapsed onto my left side, and immediately started having pushing contractions.  It was absolutely surreal, like a typhoon was sweeping through my body.  I began to roar like a mama dinosaur as the only way to stay somewhat in control.  "Slow it down! Pant a little bit!  I don't want you to tear."  "I'll try!"  The midwife's assistant, Carrie, showed up just in time.  I was on my left side with Ryan holding my right leg bent and at a 90 degree angle.  Mom was at my head, stroking my hair and holding my hand.  I buried my face in the covers and gave unbelievably strong pushes as the contractions swept through my body.  The pushing contractions were nearly continuous, and I found strength and energy in abundance to push along with them.  I only really remember stopping and breathing between 2 of them (there were about 5 total).  Suddenly, there was pressure and a burning and the words "he's crowning!"  Ryan told me "I can see our boy!"  Then they told me to wait a minute as they checked for a chord around his neck because his head was out!  No cord, but he did have a little fist tucked right under his chin.  It felt like a vat of snakes writhing in me as the midwife's assistant swept her fingers around and pulled his little hand free.  Another huge long push, and my son's body slipped into the air.  Seven minutes after I'd started pushing-- 25 after I'd entered "transition"-- and what struck me as a purple giant squid was plopped on my chest. "Thank you, Jesus!  Oh, thank you!" Not having seen him emerge at all, having had no time to process his arrival, it was totally surreal.  In a daze I marveled at his huge hands. "He's so big!" and "I can't believe he's actually here!" were two phrases I kept repeating.  I think we were all a bit in shock.

Mom & Ryan immediately began rubbing him down as I called to him and the midwives tapped his feet, trying to get him to take his first breath.  He never really cried but instead gave a little gasp and protested our efforts a few times.  He started pinking up right away.  We waited a good 10 minutes to cut the cord, and I was relieved when it was finally cut because I was so swollen and tender that even the light pressure of the cord on me was abrasive.  I was overjoyed to learn that I needed NO stiches, only having a tiny tear from where his hand had had to be pulled out.  The little munchkin had been sucking his fist throughout all of labor, which accounted for the spots of awful back pressure I'd felt:  his hand pressed against my tailbone.  He is very attached to his hands. :)

He came out pooping and pooped on me another two times before his first half-hour of life.  He started to nurse fairly quickly, too.  When it came time to weigh him, Merienda laughed that she knew she wouldn't be able to hold the spring-scale high enough to get a reading, since she's short and she knew he was a chunker.  This meant that the proud Daddy got to weigh him, and I was shocked as the scale pulled down past 10 lbs...4, 5, 6 ounces!  Yet another benefit of the tub:  the water softens your perineum so much that tearing is far less likely, as my large baby with a neuchal hand demonstrated.  He was 22 1/4" long, with a 14" head (quite molded though).  "There is no question that that is a 41-week-old baby!" my midwife affirmed, and I knew I'd done fine to use the herbs.

I got everything I prayed for:  a face-down baby, a non-marathon, unmedicated labor, minimal tearing, trustworthy & knowledgeable birth attendants, a supportive husband who was with me the entire time in every sense of the words, and a healthy baby boy with every sign of looking like his Daddy-- from the dark hair to the Szrama dimpled chin and perfect bow lips.

Two hours after the birth, with my mom's home cooking in my tummy and the clearance from my midwife, we were headed home to sleep in our own bed.  In our bags were several goodies, like goldenseal capsules to dry up Liam's umbilical stump, and an herbal sitz bath formula to use as a peri-wash.  I really respect everything our midwife recommends, as so far every bit of her advice or recommendation has proven absolutely right on!  Guess it comes with that whole decades-long-practice thing... :)  We could not have had a better experience, nor more highly recommend Merienda and her birthing practice, Upstate Birth Center.  There is something so empowering about feeling total freedom in your own birth-- the freedom to eat, say, cry out, position yourself, do, or not do whatever your body tells you or your best research recommends.  Psychologically it's amazing.  Even Ryan kept commenting at how refreshingly different this experience was from our hospital birth experience with our daughter-- and we had a totally positive experience there, too!


"Do I bring to the moment of birth and not give delivery?" says the LORD. "Do I close up the womb when I bring to delivery?" says your God."  (Isaiah 66:9)

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."  (James 1:17)

Fourth Anniversary: the Versailles Gardens

We kind of like to  keep the goofy  anniversary gift traditions-- like first anniversary is the "paper anniversary," etc.  Our 4th anniversary proved a bit more challenging for me than for Ryan, though:  "flowers and fruit."  Riiiight.  'Cause every guy likes fruit and flowers and finds that super romantic, right?  Ryan "bent" the rules for me a bit and bought me an amazing new bike, with a pink FLOWERY bell on it.  Easy for him.  I brainstormed a long time before buying him a French copy of one of his favorite books, St. Exupery's Le Petit Prince, who you might recall tends his rose (a flower, yep) tenderly (I also gave him a book by Orson Scott Card on how to write good fiction, saying that word-craft and story-growing is as involved & slow-yielding as plant-growing... but yes, it's a stretch).

We did decide to totally stay in our theme in how we celebrated together:  a day at Versailles, on their Garden tour.  Wow.  Talk about beautiful flowers in abundance!!  The Summer Garden tour is special in that all the fountains are turned on (not the norm in Versailles these days) and Baroque music is playing all over the park.  Many of the fountains had music and water shows, with the jets alternating quite spectacularly in time to period music.  Very cool.  We had to leave the garden for dinner so they could set up for part 2:  the after-dark light-music-water shows, also including lasers, smoke, lanterns, fire and a finale of fireworks & music.  As we followed our maps around the atmosphere was so jovial that we felt like we were at a party under the Sun King himself, and half-expected to see aperetif trays or champagne stations around every bend.  Eowyn weathered the day like a champ, enjoying the flowers very much and splashing her little feet in the fountains.  She napped while Ryan & I enjoyed an all-crepe dinner (Ryan's first!) and woke up chipper and happy for the finale.  I can't imagine a better way to spend a summer day... except maybe if we could have gotten INTO the pond and enjoyed a swim... Oh to have been a guest at Versailles!

The whale-bone looking thing is a modern statue of some sort... we didn't think it added much to the decor.  Nor did we find it particularly genius-- definitely not worthy of its placement here.

We got lots of colors practice!

I can only imagine what it would have been like to stroll around when this sort of display was the norm!

Funny baby

PS- I don't usually advocate taking your kids with you on an anniversary get-away... kind of defeats half the purpose, in my mind.  But I will make exceptions for Paris. :)  And we did enjoy a get-away earlier in the year to the Weekend to Remember conference so I got my alone-with-hubby time for the year and was quite content.

Dating vs. Going on Dates

Some of you may have read my previous post on our family "Three Rules for Dating," and might be wondering how in the world any of us ever met our spouses!  This post will hopefully shed a little bit of light on "how this could work."  Far from trying to tell you how "you should do this," I'm rather trying to sketch out "how one could do this."  My own experience has been far from pain-free, far from sinless, far from perfect, however, I do believe that I was spared much heart-ache and sin!

I went to a public high school with an academic magnet program, which was quite the unique experience!  I had many friends and was friendly with everyone, guys and girls alike, but stayed out of the boy-girl drama, and had my closest friends at church.  There were only a hand-full of believers in my entire school.  But that was what I wanted-- a practice mission field.  Going in with that kind of expectation helped me guard my heart very well.  I knew I wanted to go on to college, that I loved studying and learning, and that I had no business giving my heart away just yet.  I turned down guys who "asked me out," taking the chance to tell them about Jesus and Who He was to me, and also to explain that I viewed dating as preparation for marriage, not divorce, and that I didn't think we were really ready to think about marriage just yet. :)  They usually looked at me a little strange, but accepted it.

What about prom?  I went in a group with a "date" who was really a friend (one year I went with a school mate, believer, and my senior year I brought along one of my closest friends from church, who also happened to be my cousin).  Both times we went out to eat in a group, had a great time getting dressed up and taking pictures, rocked out the dance floor and got picked up by our parents by midnight.  Both nights formed some of my favorite memories of my high school career, and I had no regrets from any of it.  Good, clean fun with my friends, getting to dress up pretty and do "special" things... what more does a high-schooler want?

This pattern of learning to relate to guys and girls in group settings, of not being opposed to going on memorable "dates" as friends in groups, and being clear about my own standards and desire to remain only friends came with me to college.  (There was a year in between where I got my heart broken, but I'll share that in a final post.)  My parents had asked me not to allow myself to be drawn into an exclusive dating relationship ("courtship" to be technical) until my sophomore year of college, and in hindsight I appreciate how wise that was.  I had many guy friends, some of them fairly close (I think it's naturally easier for girls to relate to guys-- that's how it's supposed to work in marriage!  Guys just aren't all... dramatic!), but it was always clear that we were just brother & sister, or friends if they were unbelievers.  My closest friends were girls; my roommate, classmates, dorm-mates, friends from church. 

Before I go on, let me differentiate between "dates" and "dating."  In my mind, a guy and a girl can go on a date as a "get to know you."  They might like each other (or just one might like the other), they might think they possibly could start liking each other, they might just have heard good things about each other.  Going on a date --usually out somewhere, alone or in a group-- has the intention of getting to know each other specifically.  However, it doesn't imply exclusivity.  There were weeks and months where I went on dates with different guys, and wasn't a girlfriend to any of them.  I only ever truly dated one person:  the man who is now my husband, Ryan.  And once we started dating and I was "his girlfriend," I never went on another date with anyone else!  (I've heard other people call going on dates "just hanging out," and dating "courting")

Why allow one-on-one dates at all?  Well, honestly, because sometimes there's just not much other way to get to know someone.  Sure, you could get them into a group, but if it's just an excuse to talk to her, why not skip making everyone else feel like a third wheel, and spend some time getting to know The Girl. Oh yes, in case this doesn't go without saying-- I never asked a guy out, but rather let them ask if they were interested.

Ok so here's how I rolled.  I had my own "Three Date Rule"-- I'd give any believing guy who asked one date.  (Well, except for Presbyterians, because I knew my Baptist convictions were too deep to ever be able to submit to a Presbyterian husband.  My RUF campus pastor loved to tease me about this!)  If I liked something about them, and they asked a second time, I'd say yes to a second date.  By the end of that date (as well as any group activities we'd done) I'd usually have a pretty good idea of whether I'd consider dating them long-term, with a view towards marriage.  If they asked for a third date, and I was game, I'd tell them it was time to call my Dad and get his blessing (for guys that I went on out-of-town group dates with, to formal balls, I would have Dad interview them before date 1). He asked to meet with them, got to know them a bit, gave them the "what are your intentions towards my daughter" talk, and if he trusted them, he would give the OK, and we'd go on our third date.  Usually by this point I knew whether I was interested enough to be exclusive, and we'd have the DTR ("Determine the Relationship" talk). With everyone but Ryan, I had be loving and honest enough to tell these amazing guys that I didn't think I was the right one for them (talk about making yourself feel about this big), and to make it clear that I didn't want to become exclusive or date at all any more.  Hard as those talks were, they were much easier than a break-up would have been!!  Stopping a relationship from becoming exclusive is way easier than having to back-track and get un-exclusive!  I will also say that on dates or in dating relationships, the Beloved's admonition to not "arouse or awaken love until it so desires" is one to take seriously; emotional guardedness= emotional purity (and less broken hearts!)!!  Fun as it is to feel all giddy and infatuated, if it clouds your thinking or leads someone else on, it's not worth it!

I also wasn't afraid to use the Dad card to scare off guys I didn't want to date. :)  One was too chicken to even talk to my dad at all.  Easy one to cross off my list!


Please, feel free to ask questions, make comments, or post your own dating do's & don'ts!

Gardeners-in-Training

Today we planted a garden. Nothing much; two raised beds criss-crossed with twine, layered with peat moss, leaves, vermiculite, compost & manure... Ryan did all the heavy work- as I've been sick in bed for most of the past 3 days, he barely let me lift a shovel to spread the peatmoss. But I sketched out what each square foot is to hold, read up on how to build the beds and layer the soil, did some light mixing & spreading, and then carefully pressed seeds, tubers, seed potatoes and rhizomes into their freshly-made beds. (We're doing a combination of Lasagna Gardening and Square-foot Gardening this year-- both quite new to us!)

It was an enjoyable experience all around; an afternoon I'll probably always look back on as a precious photograph of our life at this stage. The weather was gentle and pleasant. Ryan and I worked together- sometimes talking, regularly conferring, helping each other, and often lapsing into companionable silence. Eowyn woke from her nap about half-way through the process, and the real fun began. I can still taste the sweetness of watching her watch me, and trying to do just what I did. No matter that Mommy had a spade and she had only hands-- she can take that brown stuff out of the sack and put it in the wooden box, too! Oh for the heart of a child, to be so content with the simple gifts our Father daily gives; the cool crumbliness of dirt; the thrill of alternately creating chaos and order with sticks and bucket; the music of seeds in paper packets; the confidence that a tiny voice pleading a tiny word- "Up!" will be answered by a Father; and, most precious to me today, the delight found in imitating those whose love we treasure and whom we deem "Great."

We laughed as she repeated the last word of each of Daddy's phone-conversation phrases "cool!" "okay." "ba-bye" We smiled as she wanted a turn to hold the tools we used. Our hearts warmed as they usually do when she wanted to be near us, to be with us, to be as near our hearts as possible (in our arms). It also made me catch my breath She's watching you-- all the time! Be careful what you say and do-- or even when you sigh or frown. Woah.  As I think about it now, though, the realization is pressing me a different way: My daughter loves to be near me. With me. More-- she wants to be like me. If watching her try to be like me is such a delight... how much does the Lord long for His children to be like Him?

And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God [...] Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.  Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.  Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. (Eph. 4:30-5:2, NIV)

This passage came to my mind, and as I read it I realized just how many nuances there are to it... The Spirit of our Father can be grieved by our conduct; when we don't imitate the elder Brother (Jesus) who loved us, gave Himself up for us, and bought our ultimate, never-ending, pure-joy forgiveness from God our Father.  We're supposed to imitate Him.  Why? How?  Because we're dearly loved children; it seems like that's the answer to both questions:  we should imitate as beloved sons & daughters do, and we should imitate because we are God's children, and so should have the family trait of dying-to-self-love.  Doing this is "fragrant" -pleasing, pleasant- to our Daddy, just as our elder Brother's sacrificial death was to God.


I guess I'm spiritually gardening in both directions, trying both to model and to imitate.   I'm trying to plant seeds in my daughter's life by providing an GOOD example to follow.  At the same time, I'm trying to cultivate imitation in my own heart-- imitation of my Father & my Brother.  Both are done only in the Power of the Helper, the Promised Holy Spirit, because both will be nothing short of miraculous.

Not by might, not by power, but by Thy Spirit!  (Zechariah 4:6)

(Note the dirt on her face: she was quite filthy, as every healthy child should be on a lovely day, I think!... =D)

Happy Monthiversary!

While musing about our evening plans earlier in the afternoon, I blurted out. "Tonight's our monthiversary!" (Yep- 2 years and 5 months) Ryan congratulated me on my knowledge of the date. I then reminded him of my Starbucks gift card from Grandma and it was a date. We left after dinner and enjoyed our mochas, speed Scrabble, a darling baby who was sweet enough to fall asleep and let us talk... and of course, talking. :)

I love you, sweetheart.

Modeling Family Togetherness

You know, the family that plays together stays together, right? Ryan & I had fun putting together our costumes for our church's Fall Party this year. It was minimal sewing, and I got a few props at the dollar store. I have a bag of stained baby clothes that we had to take out of the Clothes Closet at church, so that's where I got material for Eowyn's clothes. See more fall fun pictures here.

And this is yet another reason why Ryan & I were so evidently made for one another. I'm so thankful I have a hubby who enjoys dressing up and being thought a bit crazy as much as I do! :) We just COULDN'T let his long hair go to waste when there are so many wonderful costumes that call for luxurious locks!!