One of the less heralded signs of spring……

 
The other night at dinner totally unprompted, Brenna said, "Thank you, Mama, for making dinner for us". 

I almost came out of my chair I was so excited.

This is months of talking with her about having a thankful heart and praying that the Lord would give her a thankful heart bearing fruit.

Or possibly a fluke. Time will tell.
 

….a cigarette lighter, a paper clip and latex gloves?

Let me explain.

Back in Feburuary I slammed my finger in the front door. Our front door is large and heavy and you have to give it a good pull to give it enough momentum to latch. Which I did. I just didn’t move my finger in time for it to close. Yes, I know, grace at it fullest

So by that night, it had swelled up, looked like it was going to explode, and hurt so badly that it brought tears to my eyes every time I so much as brush it against something. Which, you know, it was my finger. It gets a lot of use.

C.W. suggested that I allow him to put a hole in the nail to relieve the pressure. I need to take a poll here. How many wives reading this would take their husbands up on such an offer? I did not.

I even wondered if the whole "putting a hole in the nail to relieve the pressure" thing was something like putting butter on a burn. Our grandmas thought that it was a great idea, but medical science has progressed to such a point that we now know that it does more harm than good.

So, I called my friend Andrew who is also a MD and is free with medical advice. He assured me that relieving the pressure would make me a lot more comfortable. He also suggested that C.W. could do it. What is this? A conspiracy of husbands? His words were,"I mean, it would be simple. Do you have any hypodermic needles lying around"? Since only crack addicts, doctors, and diabetics would answer yes to this question, I went to the doctor the next day to be relieved of my agony.

This is where the title of this post comes into play.

After looking at my finger, the doctor (I assume that he was a legitimate MD) leaves the room to retrieve a cigarette lighter and a paper clip. He straightens out one end of the paper clip, heats up the paper clip with the cigarette lighter, and touches the end to my nail to sear a hole in it.

If it hadn’t been for my desperation for the relief of pain I would have said ‘no thanks’ and walked out of there at first glance of his (ahem) medical supplies.

Funny thing is, this "procedure",  it didn’t hurt, not even a little, and within minutes it felt remarkably less painful.

Lesson learned: If you smash your finger and it has swollen up the size of a golf ball, save yourself the copay and let husband take care of it. I would totally trust C.W. to operate a paper clip and cigarette lighter.

Last Saturday we made some eggs with legs.

First came the dying.

Brenna wanted to take the eggs out of the dye immediately so I asked her to at least count to 10. Which she evidently associates with hide & go seek, so she covered her eyes  

Oooo look at this green one…. 

The proud artist. Please pardon the large amount to tea in the back ground. We were preparing to have a house full of midshipman that night, and they really like sweet tea. 

Eggs with legs!

While children all over our nation were hunting easter eggs, mine were hunting peeps.

It was like the white trash Easter. Well, it would have been except their were no pastel colored pork rinds.

The delightful (and totally classy, non white trashy) friends who invited us to Easter dinner had been peeped on Easter Eve. They have a long running holiday pranking war with our church’s youth pastor. So, obviously, their yard was sporting peeps skewered on metal stakes on Easter Day. They were like peep kabobs.

Anyhow, someone had the idea to go hide the peeps in the woods behind their house and let our kids go find them. This only really worked because our kids are still young and can be easily duped into thinking that something that’s really very odd is totally normal.

The peeps did come home with us per our hostesses request. They did not, however, make it into the house.  

And, yes, I have pictures. 

 
In the last six months I have experienced the first trimester of pregnancy twice and miscarried each baby at 16 weeks. It has been an emotionally intense season to say the least. This is what has been happening in my heart.

 
I feel sad at the loss of two babies lives.

I feel grieved at the loss of expectations that I had for our family.

I feel tired. Tired of the emotional and physical upheaval that the last six months have held. 

I have felt lots of self blame and fears of my own culpability.  

I feel certain that there is something wrong with my baby making parts.

I feel uncertainty that whatever is wrong can be "fixed".

I feel fearful of beginning those conversations with my doctor.

I feel grateful for C.W. He loves me so well.

I feel overwhelmingly grateful for Brenna and Joseph.

I have been in awe of those who love us and how they have served us, fed us, cared for our babes, prayed for us, listened to us, and given us generous gifts. 

I feel grief at even the possibility that I will never again have a baby to nurse.

I feel conflicting emotions. Wanting another baby and wanting to never risk being pregnant again. 

I feel sobered and pained that this loss that I have experienced pales in comparison to others.

I feel sad that sin has so deeply and painfully affected this world. It’s not supposed to be this way. Come Lord Jesus.

I plan to start blogging again. I know, both of you reading this are flush with excitement. I just haven’t wanted to, and now I do. A post about all that has happened in our family since the 1st of the year is in the works but here is a teaser.

Life lesson for Joseph today at lunch. We were having ramen noodles, (Yes, we are a picture of good nutrition, aren’t we? He was eating it with a whole wheat biscuit and green beans. Get off my back. Geez.) and he got to the broth in the bottom of the bowl. I had given him mostly noodles, presumably to cut down on the mess. Doesn’t really work. Anyhow, like the good parents with questionable table manners that we are, we have taught our kids that when you get to that little bit of milk in the bottom of the cereal bowl or broth in the bottom of the soup bowl, you don’t let it go to waste. You tip up the bowl and drink it.

Joseph’s mistake here was that he tipped a little to far, and I think breathed at just the wrong time.

That’s right, he snarffed some chicken broth.

It’s painful, I know, but I still laughed.

Compassionate, aren’t I? 

These eggs have been great for teaching Brenna about Easter. I love how intent Brenna is in this first picture.

Each of the 12 plastic eggs has an object in it that represents a part of the Easter story. A donkey, coins, a cup, etc.

Looking at this picture taken on this yellow slide sparked a memory of another picture taken on the same slide….. 

 Heavens, when did this happen? She is growing up so fast.

And for the Joseph fans out there…. 

I took some pictures of the kids this morning and liked a lot of them, so I just decided to post a gratuitous amount. We’ll call it a grandparent post. 

A classic Joseph face. Also looking just like his Papa Jim. (Mom, Carrie, is it just me?) 

Playing together. Making momma’s like a little easier.

Joseph just tries to keep up.

This one is from a while ago

They cheesed it up for me!