noah and the beautiful princess~

I wish I were a better blogger, I really do. But such is life.

Here are a few recent photos of our sweet Grace, who, in true Noah fashion (we don't call him Mr. Charming for nothing), he has named, "Beautiful Princess."

Seriously. He really does call her that. He can be overheard daily running up to her, tickling her feet, saying, "Hello, Beautiful Princess." Every girl needs a brother like Noah.

And he's obsessed with her feet. Still. From the day she was born when he repeatedly asked me in a small whisper, "Mommy, can you uncover her feet and let me see them just one more time? Pleeeeease???" Until now when he runs up to her numerous times a day and tickles them and can't keep his hands off of them if I'm holding her and he's standing nearby. But then again, who can blame him? Baby feet are so yummy. :o)

my life in cars(otherwise known as "i deal with pride")~

You know where this is going, right? Ten points to anyone who can make an accurate prediction before reading the post. Leave me a comment if you do, I'll trust you :o) No fair to anyone who is a facebook friend. And if you're reading this on facebook, you may have to go over to the blog to see the photos. Not sure.

As long as I can remember I've had this weird obsession with cars. They've always been a big deal for whatever reason. As early as preschool I remember my Dad driving us around in his huge brown jeep with roll bars. Sometimes he'd let us ride in the back and I distinctly remember him taking me to preschool and driving up on the sidewalk saying "Look! No hands!" Because my Dad was always fun like that :o)

I remember being horribly embarassed when my parents would pick us up in this ridiculously long white car from The Private School we went to. It might have been a perfectly normal car for all I know, I just remember being embarassed.

I remember my friend Heather's family had a super cool minivan, complete with the wood paneling down the side. You know, back when minivans were fairly new. It was the old boxy style and I actually got to Ride. In. It. when I went to Gulf Shores with their family.

Around this same time, my Dad bought what I thought was a pretty cool blue Station Wagon. Even if he did get it from his work and it had previously been used to haul raw fish around. Don't ask me how we could tell that's what it had been used for. But pretty much anyone who had the privilege to ride around with us could figure it out. I remember traveling all the way to the Florida keys in it with my middle sister and cousin. We had a whole cabbage patch land set up, and I read the entire book of Esther all the way through in the back corner. I was five, and I was surely impressed with myself.

When I was in Junior High, at the same Private School, I was ecstatic when my parents bought a white Chevy Lumina, you know, the ones that looked like a spaceship. It didn't matter at all that the girl I absolutely couldn't stand also had one. That only meant that I was on par with the Private School Kids.

It was a great van. Until I totalled it in the Very Big Accident. After that my parents bought a gigantic customized Astro that I literally had to sit on phonebooks to drive.






My very first car that I purchased was a 78(?) Ford Fairmont I bought from a friend for $300. I was ecstatic. The school I went to my junior year was very alternative, very grunge. I was coming out of my rebellious phase having picked up quite a few telltale signs of having gone through it such as kool-aid dyed red hair and confiscating all my formerly hippy parents' old clothing. I was pretty cool, or so I thought, and this car was the icing on the cake. Nevermind that I let the engine burn up after only driving it a handful of times. But I thought I was cool.




After my Fairmont mishap, my loving Dad had it towed to a nearby dealership and somehow managed to convince them it was worth something (or maybe he actually paid them to take it, who knows) and bought me a slightly used Corsica. It was lovely and dependable. It was also now my job to cart my sisters around town and myself to work, school, and everywhere else. And believe me, I went everywhere else. The Corsica is what I drove the entire time Glen and I were dating. Good times. Upon my engagement at the ripe old age of 16 and a half, he offered to give it to us as a wedding gift if we would consider getting involved with Amway.




Hence my next car, a 94ish gold Honda Accord. Be not deceived by the photo. I was so eager to find a car that Glen and I could call our very own, that I overlooked one minor flaw when buying it from the barely-speaking- English guy who "had at least six other interested buyers." We test drove it at night during the cooler days of Spring and upon Glen inquiring of me if the air worked, I assured him it most definitely did. *sigh*
Isn't it fun remembering those early days of marriage when all you really needed was love? Oh, and I should have mentioned that it was a stick which was truly an experience learning to drive. And great fun to drive on our honeymoon, during a really hot weekend in June, and all through the sweltering summer. In traffic. To work. Forty-five minutes away.





Fast forward eight months. In a move to pacify his newly pregnant (read: hormonal) seventeen year old wife, Glen graciously agrees to buy me a fabulous Infiniti G20 that a friend of my Dad's was selling. This was after I nagged begged him relentlessly, finally in tears because the girl I worked with drove a Lexus. I mean seriously, I couldn't really be expected to drive around a baby in the sweltering summer in the "sure the air works" Honda. Feel free to roll your eyes now.





I'm not sure what possessed me to think I didn't want the Infiniti anymore. It was a fabulous car. All I can claim is SUV fever. Anna was a baby, maybe I thought it was safer, but probably I just thought it was cool. The only thing in our price range was a 94 Ford Explorer that was teal with pretty significant hail damage. But hey, it had the Eddie Bauer package.. I did love that car, though. Hail damage and all. Even after I was rear ended and instead of having it repaired used the money to pay for Ethan's birth. I had always wanted an SUV. But trading the Infiniti? What was I thinking???? And thankfully, my Dad didn't disown us for buying a Ford.




For some reason, after Caleb was born. We decided we needed to have a minivan. So we bought a green Chevy Venture that we kept for all of three months before we decided our paid for Explorer was a perfectly good vehicle. We paid a stupid tax of $1000, a 'la Dave Ramsey, to sell it, though.





We kept the Explorer for a long time. Selling it during The Great Sickness that found our entire family on the living room floor puking our guts out and watching The Iron Giant and The Fox and the Hound over and over and over and over. But we'd been trying to sell it for awhile, and seeing as how there wasn't a huge market for teal cars with hail damge, even though it was an SUV, we dragged ourselves out of the house and sold it to someone in an Exxon parking lot. We had grown into a Three Children In Car Seats family, so the switch to a minivan was justified this time around. We found a good deal on a Town & Country. Soon after getting it, I was rear ended yet again, and seeing as how this time we used the repair money to pay for Moriah's birth, I drove around with a dented in rear bumper for awhile. Funny how in my quest to drive something that I deemed "cool" at the time, I was willing to put up with less than perfection. So at least I'm not a total snob.




Soon after we moved to The Country, the Town & Country began having some serious problems. I don't even remember what we did with it, but we bought a Ford Expedition. Because I had always wanted an Expedition. It was super cool, but we soon discovered that getting Four Kids In Car Seats and having storage room for All Their Stuff, didn't go so well with the very backseat being needed for carseats, but leaving zero storage space. So we traded it. For a Honda Odyssey.



(read this next section with your voice dripping with sarcasm) A Honda Odyssey was next on the list of cars I thought were cool (not yet being able to justify a Suburban which had always been my ultimate dream car.) But once again, budget constraints prevented me from getting one that was as nice as I really wanted, so I had to settle for cloth seats and (gasp!) black handles that told the world I, in fact, did not have The Really Nice Odyssey.





We kept the Odyssey, which I grew to love, black handles and all, until close to Noah's birth. Five Kids In Car Seats made a minivan a pretty tight squeeze, so we found a good deal on finally, a Suburban. With leather. And heated seats. And a TV. *sigh* This was the stage of life in which I remember having several conversations with friends about if we would, in fact, have enough children to outgrow it. A seventh child was The Line. What would we do? Obviously, the car I drove shouldn't (and wasn't) the deciding factor for if we had more children. But oh, how I loved my Suburban.

I tried to keep it. I really did. I could fit All The Kids in it as long as Glen wasn't with us, and when we needed to go somewhere together we could use his 15 passenger work van. But like I said. It's his work van, he really needs the space for work. And is has over two hundred thousand miles which is fine for around town, but not so much for long trips. Like camping when pregnant as soon as I'm off bedrest, camping while pregnant and due in a month, camping with a five week old, camping with a two month old, camping with a three month old. You get the picture.

So yes. I crossed The Line. Why not a simple 12 passenger you ask? Well, because when you take out the very back seat to allow for storage space, the seating is the same as the Suburban. Hence, I am now a 15 Passenger Van Mom. Doesn't quite have the same ring as minivan mom or Suburban mom or soccer mom, does it? Ahem.

Happy Saturday :o)

i'm no super mom~

I think the most heard comment I get from people when they find out I am a mom of seven, is the classic, "How do you it?" Or some variation thereof. My answer is always, always "By the grace of God." Which sounds like a really pat answer, and I usually try and elaborate a little, but I know myself too well to take any shred of glory for myself. I cling to Him. There is nothing in me, it is all Him.

Here is the best concise answer I've ever heard. And let me just say, the beginning was like a time warp :o)

(Thanks to Amy's Humble Musings for the link.)

Happy Wednesday :o)

email me link~

I know a lot of people read these posts in a feed reader, so I just wanted to let you know I added an ~email me~ link to the blog.

So fire away :o)

for your saturday reading pleasure~

Here are some more links that I think are definitely worth reading...

Holy Habits

A weighty post that once again reminds us that what we do is important. Immensely. And there's a lot more to it than math facts, cooking, and tying shoes; yet life and relationship are tied up in those every day things.
An excerpt... "They say a mother wears an apron and a myriad of hats. I say she wears a collar too. A collar which can never be removed. A collar which cannot be observed by the material world: a clerical collar. For she is a priest in her home, before a congregation of children. ...While a mother continually changes her hats throughout the hours of the day, her collar remains: she is a priest proclaiming Christ’s glories. She cares for souls."


Solving the Crisis in Homeschooling: Exposing the 7 Major Blind Spots of Homeschoolers

Unfortunately, I have been guilty of some of these far too often. An excellent read, I'm printing this one out. Vital for parents who want to keep their children's hearts.


Shelter Is Not A Place. It's a Relationship.

On sheltering our kids in the real world.
Another excerpt... "Shelter is not a place. It's a relationship. Although we need to be wise about keeping our kids safe (let's not be simplistic here), sheltering our kids from every potential evil is impossible. The world is corrupt. Hey, the youth group is corrupt!

I would love to withdraw my family from society and keep them from having to face the messiness of navigating relationships in a fallen world. But that’s just not feasible. Maybe not even desirable. Besides, we have enough sin nature between all seven of us, they’d still get to see plenty of corruption!

Instead, we want to make sure our home is the safe place, the most comforting sanctuary on earth, where our kids are guaranteed acceptance, affection and genuine love. Our relationship with our kids should be a reflection of God's relationship with us - overflowing with grace and forgiveness.

And while we’re doing that, we're introducing them to Jesus, and we’re walking along side them, showing them how to “do life” with Christ at the helm.

We don’t have to know all the answers, and heaven forbid we should try to appear perfect. I fail daily, and have to ask my kids’ forgiveness all the time. But we feel strongly that the more spiritually arrogant we are, and the more we try to hide our flaws, the more likely our kids will become disillusioned with God later on.

I thought all of these were excellent reads and will be keeping them close by. Let me know what you think.

Happy Saturday!

(and Stacey, let me know when you have your baby!!)

pica, anyone?~

Sonic ice. My new obsession. After every baby I have some sort of food related craving. Craving is really too nice of a word. It's more like a give it to me now and no one gets hurt sort of problem. We won't talk about how with Caleb it was orange sherbet by the gallon, with Noah is was Texas Toast Cheeseburgers with an M&M Blast, or with Grace this time it was margherita pizza and sonic ice. An entire pizza every single morning.

I prefer to remember the other babies, with whom I preferred things like sandwiches and salads.

Not so this time. Now, mind you, a margherita pizza is largely tomatos and basil, an entire one contains only 700 calories which is an okay allotment for a newly nursing mama for one meal. But still. It kinda hints at gluttony. So I had to stop. And I did. But the Sonic ice is another story. I go through a bag of it every two days. Sometimes an entire bag a day. Usually with water.

When I am nursing, especially the first few months, I am ravenous, feeling the need to eat literally constantly. Eating ice is my way of tricking my mind into thinking I'm eating. And it's calorie free! But I do crave it, and that can be a sign of pica. And while I've never actually eaten powdered laundry detergent, sand, cornstarch, or baking soda, I think about chewing it. Always have. And until a couple of years ago I was a horrible nail biter. All signs of pica. I was anemic my entire pregnancy with Grace, and no amount of supplements or eating of iron rich foods changed it.

So. Should I be concerned?