Happy Sixth Birthday!

This is our 6 year old! We celebrated Owen's life on Sunday, October 28th. He is such a gift to our family. God has given him a tender heart to teach and help and play with his siblings. He is intelligent and kind, loves to read and "do school", but is equally happy playing outdoors, jumping on the trampoline, biking, or orchestrating other games. We love him so much and are eagerly expectant of the good things God has in store for this young man. Happy Birthday, Owen!

Tucked In

This is Livia with Tate on her bed. She likes to lay beside him and have me cover them both with her blanket (just as she prefers to be tucked in with her dog and her two babies, Egg and Susan). Just like me, she thinks that Tate is too sweet and we just can't resist snuggling with him!

8 Weeks

Have I really not posted based on Tate's age (in weeks) for nearly a month? Whew. You know, they are all just kind of blurring together still. Yet, this week seems more important. 8 weeks is . . . two months already! *gasp* I am shocked that this much time has passed while I have endeavored to make it through each day (and actually accomplish something, even if it was only to be peaceful and to love my family well).

So, Tate is 8 weeks. I can't stop myself from kissing all over him. He's delicious! He has consistently slept 6 hour stretches this week, meaning that I can actually sleep until 4am or so. He hasn't been napping really well during the day, unless you count his GREAT naps in the Baby Bjorn. I've noticed that people start saying, "you look good today" now that I am getting a little more sleep. (But not that much more, because now Livia is waking up in the night to use the potty and I have to help her. Yeah! And. . . zzzzzzz.)

Work on the house continues. I am weary, but Christ reminds me to press into Him and press on. The carpet went on the stairs today and it is very nice, an upgrade for us (one of the very few!). On the downside, I've noticed rust on kitchen appliances like my KitchenAid and BreadMan from the fiasco. . .

Each day feels like a new challenge. I feel so needy of Christ for each moment. As much as I am loathe to continue this way, I am also thankful for this time, when I am so thirsty and hungry and weary. . . and I am drinking deeply of Christ and have enough.

Things That Make A Good Birthday

1. A teeny bit of time in bed by myself before facing the day
2. Hugs and kisses and "happy birthdays" from my family
3. Worship (I'm so glad when my birthday is on a Sunday!)
4. Simple, good food and friends to enjoy it with
5. Delicious cake made by a friend
6. An unexpected message from a friend (thank you Sara!)
7. Sweet cards from loved ones far away (I have awesome aunts and cousins!)
8. New jewelry and clothes (I like to feel pretty)
9. Everyone quietly resting in the afternoon (myself included)
10. A bit of time to reflect
11. Moments with my husband, stolen from the law books
12. "I love you, Mom" picture drawn by Owen
13. Phone calls with my favorite people
14. Gorgeous autumn weather, a mix of cool morning and sunshiny afternoon
15. A walk

Chaos

Yesterday I was blessed to have my very good friend come over, bringing her two girls. The oldest is a little older than Livia and the youngest is about 15 months old. They are beautiful, wonderful little girls (that act like little girls. You know, sweet, demure, quiet..). In comparison, I have a rather unrulely, boyish brood.

My friend is exceptionally gifted with organizational skills and coming up with systems to make life simpler. She is amazing. We had talked about my bathroom closet before, and I had asked for some advice on how to pare down or how to make everything fit in one small space.

As all the kids seemed to be playing well, we decided to tackle this "little" project. In no time at all, everything from the closet was on the bathroom floor and we were sorting and tossing left and right. I had Tate with me. She had her youngest playing in a nearby bedroom.

Well, you can guess what happened, right? ALL the children ended up in the (very small) bathroom with us. I was hemming and hawing, looking at bottles of lotion and trying to decide if it was something I was really ever going to use. . . and she was sorting things into bins, and retrieving items that our girls kept pulling out. It was kind of chaotic. At one point we looked at each other and she asked, "What is that smell?" Uh-oh. The girls were playing in nail polish remover. Come on! This was a girl's dream: make-up, lotion, hair things. . . I think we were lucky that no one ate anything toxic. (But do we really know?!) Our mom-reflexes rescued our children more than once, while they were unaware. (Do you think we were overconfident to have razors and tylenol and toothpaste and other sundries on the floor? That's rhetorical.)

The good news is we finished the closet and it looks spectacular, (Did you know a closet could look that good?!) at least in my opinion. It is, at least, a huge improvement. And as our kids were melting down because it was time for lunch and naps, we were feeling rather good for accomplishing something.

I saw her last night and she had this to say, "I was thinking about this morning. That is probably THE MOST chaotic situation I have EVER been in. The kids were pulling things out as quick as we could put them away. . ."

"What? Two moms and six kids in a bathroom?" I laughed. "That was chaotic?"

She went on, "Then I thought, this is probably what EVERY DAY is like for the Curtises."

Yeah. I've been thinking on that. What feels like complete madness to some has become a normal level of activity to me. Did that happen along the way? I sure hope so, because that means that He can continue to grow me to rise up to the challenges of our growing family.

Undone

Numbers 17:12
And the people of Israel said to Moses, "Behold, we perish, we are undone, we are all undone."

This is what is playing through my mind tonight. Not terribly cheerful, I know. But sometimes a word seems so apropos and then the verse that it is in keeps repeating in my inner voice. I'm undone. I'm undone.

Being undone is just the culmination of my day, a series of unfortunate events (ha!) that are cumulatively exhausting, or really, really funny. Laughing is better than crying, I think, and as I think through these things I am (almost) chuckling.

It's the kitchen sink that I spent ten minutes cleaning this morning, scouring back to shiny steel while a baby cried, a toddler emptied a cupboard, and two boys took turns spinning each other on the kitchen floor. The sink now has dinner splashed all over it, water stains and bits of food from the faucet to the drain. *sigh*

It's the half bottle of Johnson and Johnson baby soap that Livia emptied into the bath while I diapered Tate. Before the bath I thought, "Wow. This bottle is almost half empty. We're sure going through the soap lately." Seriously. WE are going through it so fast that now it is gone. *sigh*

It's the toilet paper unrolled across the bathroom floor because I was just a wee bit too late to help Livia. *sigh*

It's the scratches in the newly refinished (and oh so beautifully shiny and perfect!) hardwood floor, thanks to the sit and spin. . . and again I was just ... THIS much too late. . . *sigh*

Well, at least they match the scratches in the kitchen table from Rhyle's fork. He was trying to get "this bit of red" off the table. . . *sigh*

And the toilet, which I cleaned today (it only happens twice a week, so I take great joy in the shiny white porcelain that makes the water look clear enough to drink). . . well, the minute it was done. . . it was undone.

This is my life. I'm not surprised. I'm not even very upset. Just a little, well, tired, I guess. Feeling undone by all that has come undone today. And this is just today! And truthfully, I try so hard to hold it all together, to keep everything neat, not to waste things, to be a good steward of all I have been entrusted. And that can be exhausting! (And I can't do it anyway.) God clearly continues to work on my sinful pride and self-sufficiency. And I think it's a good thing to be undone- so that He can remake me tomorrow, a bit more like Christ. That's what I'm praying for. Elisabeth Elliot said it even better: "Teach me to treat all that comes to me with peace of soul and with firm conviction that Your will governs all."

Race Day

Owen and Rhyle ran in their first official races today. Owen was fourth of fifty 4-5 year old boys, running 1/4 mile. Rhyle was fourth of fifty 1-3 year old boys, running 1/8 mile. They did a great job! Daddy, Livia, Tate, and I enthusiastically cheered them on. Livia then explained that next year she will be three (and then FOUR!)and SHE will run FASTER and wear a SHIRT. You better believe it.

Owen's Magna Doodle Art

Random art by Owen: Funny Man with Two Arms on One Side, Sad Man, and A Rocket

Three Mysteries

Mystery One:
Why is the dinner table empty, though there is food partially eaten on every plate? Why does it look like the family has been raptured from their meal?

Mystery Two:
"Why isn't the vacuum working correctly?" I was very puzzled this afternoon, after already using duct tape to fix the rip in the hose. I had checked the bag earlier this week and it wasn't even near needing replaced. Still, the suction was definitely sub-standard.

Mystery Three:
Where is Livia's other pink skecher shoe? Why, though she had TWO shoes on when I put her in her car seat, can I only find ONE? And let it be known that the van was thoroughly cleaned today (okay... it was just vacuumed), and the shoe is still unaccounted for. Where could a shoe go? It's been missing for a week. This happened once before, when Owen was little. I saved the "found" shoe for two years until Rhyle could wear it, hoping the other shoe would eventually turn up. And then I gave up.


Answer One: Livia had to go potty. "You take me, Daddy?" Braden went with her. Then Rhyle went to get more water to drink. About that time I took Tate to change his diaper. Then Owen felt lonely and joined the party in the bathroom. Voila! No one partaking of the dinner.

Answer Two: Owen took a turn vacuuming out the van. But he also vacuumed an entire vacuum-cleaner-bagful of dirt off of our driveway, uncovering a portion of cement that we didn't even know existed.

Answer Three: Comment if you have any brilliant ideas for me! Or, how long would you wait before pitching the lone skecher?

And by the way, Tate slept for EIGHT hours straight last night. . . so I can praise God! and post.

A comfort: Deuteronomy 29:29
"The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law.

8 p.m.

It's that time of night. Essentially I am worth very little after dinner, and once the kids are in bed I am also ready to retire. (I'm considering that I feel ready even though there is an abundance of things that I could and should be working on. Thank yous? Laundry? Cleaning up? Making phone calls?)

As I look at the blog I really think that I'm not quite being honest with you all. Unintentionally, of course. I simply tend to blog when I have slept, or when I have a free minute, or when I have a positive outlook or a great quiet time. I want that to be me all the time.

I covet your prayers! I have absolutely no idea what the Lord is doing right now. I don't need to know. Things with the house are dragging on. The contractor says it will be another two weeks before the carpet, tile, and cabinets are finished. I'm weary of having things disordered, having someone else in my house, and feeling impatient and ready to just move ON! I've had mastitis (or its symptoms) three times. Nursing is still not easy. . .

That's it. i'm going to stop there. Braden needs his computer and I do not want to wax complaintantly. Just so you know that having four children under the age of 5 is difficult and challenging as well as rewarding and sweet. Daily I am beseeching my God for mercy, strength, and grace. We are so needy and so aware of it. Goodnight.

It's Difficult Not To Be Thankful

There are more things for me to give thanks for than minutes in a day. One that has come recurringly to my attention is this precious baby, Tate. Every once in awhile I flash back to my last baby (Livia), which is really the only baby I remember with much lucidity. And I am so thankful.

Tate doesn't cry EVERY time I change his clothes or his diaper. Livia did. Tate simply doesn't seem to mind this much at all.

Tate doesn't cry through each entire bath. Livia did. I think Tate likes it.

Tate doesn't spit up after every feeding. I think Livia did. If not each time, then most. (see, I'm taming my tongue from exaggeration! The Lord has chastened me.)

Tate doesn't cry every time we ride in the van. Livia did.

Tate doesn't cry without likely cause as Livia did.

In general, we have a pretty happy, easy-to-understand son. He cries when he is uncomfortable (wet, tired, gassy, soiled, hurt, etc.). He can be soothed. He rolls with the craziness of our days. Livia was easily bothered by many things and irked that she couldn't do all that her big brothers did. She still wants to be able to do everything- which is great, and it isn't. She would gladly feed, burp, change, bathe, and put Tate to bed if I would let her. If she were 8 or 10 instead of 2 I could take a little vacation! Her intense personality challenges and blesses me, and for it I give thanks. But I'm also REALLY thankful for the sweetness and congeniality of my Tatey (as Liv calls him). God is so good to us! FOUR blessings!