Pile of Sugar - Our Story

My trusty ol' smart phone missed a lot of action this week, including the entire visit of Yaya and Papa Steve but I did manage to catch a sweet moment or two here and there...

Found this pile of sugar at the top of the stairs when we headed up to bed late one night last week...

My sweetheart and my sweetie pie...

Let summertime begin!

Time marches on. Now I have a wall in my house to remind me.

Totally Worth It - Our Story

Ron loves gear lists. He works tirelessly on them. I had to take a picture of one of them. They are one many adorable things about my dear husband. This is his gear list for the three day bike trip he took last week. Seeing how excited he gets about planning for these kinds of outings makes the days of single parenting while he is gone totally worth it!

Who is this party animal toddler where my sweet baby girl used to be?

Next week this delightful little costume will be worn by our very own resident "ballet-er" in her long awaited "Big Performance." Sadly, she now prefers the term ballerina. Why is everyone growing up so fast around here?

We finally put our wonderful Christmas present of a zoo membership to use last week and the girls loved it so much I can tell we are going to be making up for lost time all summer long! Sissy was especially taken with the animals. She was glowing with love for them! She wanted to name each one. Her smile in the second picture melts my heart!

The kick me, steal my covers, toss and turn, drool on my pillow, breathe loud, sometimes even fall off of the bed and generally keep me awake all night long, but a day is coming when these chubby little cherubs will be young women and will no longer beg to sleep in Mommy's bed when Daddy is out of town, so until that day comes may no snuggles be left on the table and may I say yes every chance I get!

The Thunder are breaking my heart but I will stay up until midnight every time they play and I will cheer for them until the bitter end.

Piggies!!

There are no words...

Someday my coffee table won't be draped in a Disney Princess Snuggie everyday to be made into a "beautiful bed" for the likes of Tiny Sister, Buzz's head, Mulan, and Glow Baby but I hope that day is far, far away.

Love - Our Story

Love this noble tree in my neighbors yard...

Love eating breakfast at restaurants...

Love how clean my girl's room is...Thanks Maw Maw!

Love all you can eat blueberries...

Love my new shower curtain...

Love how my wild child turns into an angel when she sleeps...

Love all these Mamas...

Love Booba...

Love a clean kitchen...

(I do realize that the fact that I feel compelled to photograph my kitchen when it is clean doesn't speak well to how often that occurs. Oh well.)

I'm not scared of storms...

This morning at breakfast we were talking about Jesus being with us when we are afraid. I asked the girls what kinds of things make them afraid and Sissy could come up with nothing. I knew she wasn't bluffing, trying to be cute, or forgetting something. This child is fearless. She summed it up with the quote below and pretty much summed up her very self as well. Love, love, love my spunky little girl with a will of iron and heart of gold.

"I'm not scared of storms or spiders. I just love flowers and butterflies and lady bugs."

Ponder Deborah Babington

May 2011

Our Story - 4.15.11

One of the two main reasons I keep this blog and allow myself to spend time on it is because I want my children to have something to look back on when they are grown and to remember these sweet days we had together. I want to be able to look back and remember too. So, this week I came up with an idea I am pretty excited about.

A little over a year ago Ron bought me a real fancy phone and since then it has been not only my phone but my go to camera. Any given day there are anywhere from 10 to 150 pictures on it. It is handy because my phone is usually with me and my actual camera usually is not. Anytime something precious or unbelievable happens I can quickly grab my phone and immortalize the moment. I have noticed that the pictures on my phone tend be a pretty good portrayal of exactly what is going on around here at a given moment. Those pictures tell our story quite well.

I have decided to take a little time and the end of every week or so and let the pictures on my phone do just that. Tell our story. The parts of story that I know I will forget unless I find a way to make sure I remember.

So here we go:

I have been pretty concerned about whether or not Rose is growing enough. She is such a scrawny little thing and anyone who knows our other girls knows we don't make scrawny babies. At her one year check up the doctor said she is doing fine. She is just 25 percentile weight and 75 percentile height. So no worries as long as she is eating and growing which she is. He said "You can always fatten em up later, but once the fat is there it is had to get rid of it." Don't I know it.

Speaking of Rose there's a new kid in town. Look who is too big for her britches standing up and snacking like her sisters!

She is still our little Baby Rose though too.

The Babingtons upgraded to the seven quart crock pot this week. We have five real eaters now!

My nine months pregnant sister in law graciously did a photo shoot of my girls last weekend. The pictures are glorious! I am going to cheat and post one here so you get the idea. This picture is obviously not from my phone but is just to prove the point. She is really quite talented.

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What is even more remarkable than how adorable Afton looks in those flowers is the lengths Judy Kay was willing to go to get shots like that from her three...shall we say... spirited models. Yes, at one point you see her pregnant belly (housing a full grown baby who could live outside the womb) practically resting on the sidewalk. And it wasn't all that cool outside that day, people. We often get strange looks when we say that we moved here for no good reason other than to be near Ron's sister and her family. Maybe if the people who think that is odd could see the pictures below the would begin to understand.

My mom stitched this picture when I was about 12 years old. She recently asked me if I wanted one of her old cross stitching pieces. Of course I did! I have such fond memories of watching my mom work through many such pictures. I finally got it hung in my bedroom and it warms my heart every time I see it.

Things have been moving at a pretty break neck pace for us since late February with no sign of stopping until the end of summer. I get overwhelmed easily. I am not an especially neat person but chaos really gets to me. Ron recently took all three girls to Afton's ballet class (no small feat) and then kept them out on errands for an additional two hours so I could catch up around here. I would thoroughly clean one room and then sit down and read a chapter of my book and repeat. It was so relaxing and rejuvenating. Not sure what this says about me but I enjoyed it about as much as I would have enjoyed a day at the spa. And I missed my girls. There is something good for your soul about having the opportunity to miss your children. By end of the evening I remember thinking someday (someday too soon) my house will be this clean all the time and then, oh, I will long for the days with my sweet baby girls.

My sweet baby girls (well, the two biggest ones) played an actual board game by themselves for the first time this week. They had a lot of fun and actually followed the rules of them game instead of just messing with the pieces. May seem like a small thing to you but it's quite huge really.

Oh and this little big girl had her first raisins this week. She was fan!

Just Keeping It Real -- Part 2

These little preciouses (even, er, especially the little one) trampled my nerves today like a Walmart doormat on Black Friday. By the time lunch rolled around I could barely breathe. So, naturally, I took all the oxygen I could muster to throw my head back toward the ceiling and yell "AWWWWWW!" as loud as I could for a good seven to ten seconds without stopping.

Afton said, "Mommy, is that because you don't like whining?"

I will leave that to her and to ya'll to figure out.

I read this last night. That lady gets it. Guess I need to read it again.

Because of the great response to my last keeping it real post I did consider putting a picture of up of some of the "science experiments" I have in my fridge right now but, alas, my pride is too great. Don't worry though, I definitely have enough subject matter to keep this series going for a while.

God Makes People Mad All The Time.

If you like making people mad this post is not for you. I know there are people in the world who do like making people mad and they need someone else to speak into their lives because all I would say would be "Hey, stop making people mad. It's making me feel uncomfortable." And really how helpful is that?

If, however, making people mad makes you miserable -- welcome to my world. I hate making people mad. I hate disappointing people. I hate burdening them or annoying them. These are some of the worst feelings I can think of and ones that I avoid at many costs. Earlier this week I realized this is something that I avoid at too many costs.

I was "playing" outside with my girls on a beautiful morning. Actually I was ignoring them and brushing off their excited comments so I could focus on doing something that was a total waste of time and that I wasn't even enjoying. Why? Because someone (who is not a regular reader of my blog nor a family member and so probably not you) had suggested it to me and I knew if I didn't finish by that afternoon they would find out and know I hadn't taken their suggestion.

All of a sudden (probably after shushing one of my kids or saying "Oh nice." and not even looking up at the dirt mound they had built) I asked myself. "Why the heck am I still doing this?" and before I had time to contrive a good reason I answered myself (Yes, that IS what crazy people do.) "So I won't make {REDACTED} mad."

Wow. And I had to admit that was the whole reason I was doing it. Not another reason at all was even contributing to it. Because I didn't want to risk disappointing someone I was neglecting the important for what in this case was utterly pointless. Ouch.

And then I had the most liberating thought I have had in a while. God makes people mad all the time. He is perfect and He is good and He is kind and He IS love and yet he manages to make millions of people angry every single day. I place a high value on how much what I do will please or displease others. It was huge epiphany for me to realize that in this way I was not sharing God's values. When Jesus was on Earth he made people angry too. He made them angry enough to kill him. I let whether or not something will anger or disappoint someone be the deciding factor in whether or not I do a lot. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say I do that all the time. That's not what Jesus did.

I thought I was thinking of others by not wanting to make them mad, but in reality I was thinking of myself. I wasn't trying to prevent the suffering of others I was trying to mitigate my own discomfort by making sure by whatever means I felt necessary people were rarely displeased with me. My avoidance of the anger of others is nothing like godliness. It is definitely not Christlike. At root it is selfishness and one thing I know about selfishness is that it makes everything worse.

So where do I go from here? Start making people mad on purpose? Stop considering at all how my actions will affect others? No, of course not. As Sissy would say, "Thas not kind!" As Afton would say, "Now you're just being wacky." I think I need to stop dressing up my own self-protective tendencies like they are sacrificial love and learn to really love sacrificially the way Jesus did. His unselfishness, love, and willingness to sacrifice are unmatched in history but he was not afraid of the anger of men. I think the more I grow to be like Him the less afraid of it I will be as well.

Happy Birthday Baby Rose!

Ron summed her up best when he said recently, "She's been sweet every day of her life."

He's right. All 365 of them.

Little Humans.

Kids are little humans. One thing I love about little humans is that they haven't learned to hide some of the less pretty parts of humanity yet. My brother loves how kids often say "Look at me!" He says everyone is always thinking that but kids are the only ones who say it. I think he is right. That is why I love these pictures. Raw humanity. The part of humanity that is stingy and grabby by turns. The part of humanity I would like to think I have risen above, but then I look at these pictures and I can relate to every face both girls make in every frame. If you can't see yourself here too I'd be surprised. Nothing like kids to remind us who we are and how much we need a Savior.

One Job That Matters

It took me three babies and four years of motherhood to learn that on days when my baby is sick I only have one job that matters.



And as you can see it is not personal grooming.

Flowering Weeds

Two of my new friends here in South Carolina lost babies to miscarriages last week. Babies that they loved and were looking forward to meeting. Babies who would have loved the sweet mommies they were born to. These particular girls have been two of the friendliest and most welcoming people I have met in my new home. I am thankful for them and now I am deeply saddened that such a heartbreaking circumstance has befallen people who have been so kind to me. I have wept while writing this paragraph and it has taken me much longer to write it than it took for you to read it.

Five years ago we lost our first baby to a miscarriage. I didn't much feel like talking about it then and have very rarely talked about it since. When I do mention it it is always in an all business kind of way. I will state the fact that it happened and whatever details surrounding it that are pertinent to the conversation at hand. But I don't...go there. I don't open my heart to any feelings whatsoever surrounding the matter. It is a closed case. Miscarriages happen all the time and one happened to me. Done.

Or so I thought. But then when my friends started having experiences I knew too well those long ignored feelings made their presence known again. The feelings that start when you see blood where blood shouldn't be when you're pregnant. The feelings that grow when the bleeding doesn't stop even as you are trying to convince yourself that it is getting lighter. The feelings that crash down around you when some medical person tells that what you have feared and hoped against and prayed against has happened. Your baby is gone and you will not hold it until heaven. The feelings that sink in when you realize your baby will always be called it. Never him or her. Loud, ugly, painful feelings. Feelings that you don't want and don't know what to do with. Feelings you try to hide when someone asks you how you are. I hate those feelings. I hate that the commonness of miscarriages means that those awful feelings are common too. I hate that the commonness of such awful feelings doesn't make them any less awful. If anything it just makes them more infuriating. I hate all of that.

But in revisiting the emotions of losing a baby I reminded of another kind of feeling I had back then. A feeling that is beautiful and is odd in that it only accompanies the darkest and most terrible of feelings. The kind of peace and hope that only show up in the midst of real fear and despair. The supernatural assurance of God's goodness that is only relevant when everything in you wants to ask how He could be so cruel. The joy that God saves aside for only his children who are experiencing profound sorrow. It's a kind of feeling I can't explain. Supernatural is the best word I've got for it. I think it is commonly called grace.

My miscarriage took place in Italy. I spent a week in an Italian hospital. I had left my home at the end of winter. What was supposed to be a quick four day trip to welcome my brother back from Afghanistan turned into two weeks in a strange place going through the most excruciating experience of my life. While I was gone winter turned into early spring. When I stepped out of my car after the long flight and ride home my yard was covered in purple flowers. Weeds really, but they were flowering weeds, and they were where nothing but winter deadness had been when I left. They said to me in a way no human could have gotten away with "Life goes on." Not in a trite shruggy oh-well-better-luck-next-time kinda way. But in the resounding way of a trustworthy promise. LIFE - real life, the kinda life God makes - goes on and on and on even in this world so broken that an innocent baby isn't even safe in the womb of the mother who loves it. That is what those flowering weeds said to me. My yard wasn't covered in flowers my yard was covered in grace.

I was away this weekend while my friends were just beginning to grapple with their loss. In my prayers for them I kept coming back to those flowering weeds. I asked God to send them something like that. Some kind of visible, palpable grace that is louder than their pain and that is kinder than this world is cruel. I believe that He will.

When I arrived home on Monday my yard that I had left in the dead of winter just days before was full of those same purple flowers I first noticed all those years ago.

His mercy endures forever.

Ever.

Today my house is full of people I love and it's the best St. Valentine's Day I have ever known.

What Else I Get Wrong.

I am often...often...overwhelmed by all I want to teach my children. How to use the potty, how to clean up after themselves, how to call 911, what it means to be kind, what it means to be brave, what kind of boys will be worth their time someday and what kind won't. I mean they came to me knowing nothing. It's a pretty big job.

It is even bigger when I consider that they learn mostly by example. Now I have not only what I want to teach them to worry about but all the things I don't want to teach them as well. How to lose your temper, how to make a mountain out of a molehill, how to be lazy ... impatient ... inflexible...unforgiving. How to give the silent treatment, how to cuss, how to worry and gossip instead of pray, how to hate, how to fear.

See, I am already feeling overwhelmed again. But I am realizing something lately. That if I can teach my children the spectacular truth you will hear about below...really teach it to them so that it takes on a life of its own inside their hearts...well, then it won't really matter what else I get wrong.

(WARNING: Mildly cheesy video. Just close your eyes and listen to the words.)

Goal Post

I went on a date once in college and my date asked me what are your goals, after a pretty long silence I said, "I don't have any."

My Goals For September

1. Reach my pre-pregnancy weight.

2. Get up by 6:00 on 80% of weekday mornings.

3. Exercise at least 20 times.

4. Pray for my children everyday.

5. Brush my children's teeth at least 5 days a week. Don't judge.

6. Make an action plan for my yard.

7. Get a SC driver's license.

8. Get a library card.

Twenty Poohs.

I never want to forget that when Afton has little she used to call Winnie the Pooh "Twenty Poohs" and I almost did.

Love her.