let's start here

I've started this post numerous times over the past few weeks. But it seems I'm lacking motivation to pick up the pieces and figure out which events and pictures to share. Rather than reaching back and digging in what has happened these last few weeks (months!), I think I'll be more successful if I just start in the here and now.

the here

We are still here. In Arkansas. And it's been a winter where it feels like spring. Cool temperatures well above freezing. Today, it's in the 60's, gray and overcast. The dreary sky suits my mood. Stuff with my family continues to unravel in painful ways.

But it's not fair for me to say that it's all doom and gloom over here.

There have been plenty of joyful moments:

• sewing with a new and already dear friend;
• River saying no (and so many other words in his rapidly-expanding vocabulary, though it's still mostly grunts and gestures);
• watching Liam play with his best friend Noah (and seeing his mom take the resulting toy-explosion in stride);
• seeing Linda delight in her baby and he in her;
• Gabriel opening an acceptance letter to the UofA's architecture program.

Yep, it seems that the story shall continue to be Arkansas for a while still. And I think I am okay with that.

the now

But it's the heavy stuff that weighs on me. I am sick again, and so are my boys, which only makes it harder to cope with all the dark and twisty. If I am being honest about my own weakness, I'll admit that I have been finding it all harder and harder to deal with. I am stuck in crisis mode, where you just get through every day. One day at a time. 

But it's not effective parenting. And I feel like these two are whizzing around me. I struggle to keep up. 

pictures from the Tulsa Zoo in a favorite running-in-circles hut

Most days, Liam exasperates me. He knows which buttons to push, and we get stuck in cycles where the entire day is a battle. He can be sweet, and he can be fun, but he can also be a nightmare.

Then, on Sunday, he was nearly ran over by a car while walking home from church with Gabe and River. Gabe saw the car zooming out of the alley, abruptly stopped the jogging stroller, and Liam went flying forward from his perch on the front foot rest he uses as a seat. He landed in the street, face first, just an inch or two from the tires now rolling past. The driver, busy on a cell phone, never noticed the very near miss.  

Liam was still trembling, bundled in blankets on the couch, when I got home from a meeting after church. We hugged each other and cried. Our world was almost turned upside down, and the nearness was terrifying.

It still is.

Apparently, I still have much to learn about gratitude for the present, despite the circumstances.

I'm trying to find beauty in our everyday. It's there, whether or not I grab ahold.

little e

Everett Franklin was born at 3 am today, following 22 hours of torturous labor.

My sister is amazing. She had 2 epidurals for the pain. They didn't work. She pushed for over 2 hours, and then waited 2 more once they opted for a c-section and took their time making it happen. And she was still feeling the urge to push and every bit of the pain.

But then they brought this bundle of joy out of the OR and it all made sense: 10 lbs, 6 oz of healthy baby boy. There is no way he would have come out naturally from Linda's petite little 5' frame.



After going home for a few hours sleep, I brought the boys to meet their newest cousin. River was intrigued, but a bit uncertain when the baby started murmuring some complaints.



And Liam is just smitten. 

 We all are. Everett, welcome to the world.

a little baby sweater

Tomorrow is my nephew's birthday. Well, maybe. It all depends on how long he takes to come out. But Linda is scheduled to check in at the hospital at 5 am tomorrow morning to be induced, and I am scheduled to be in Little Rock with River for a follow-up with the ENT. I'm hoping he won't be born until the early evening when I get back into town so I can be present for his birth. Sorry, Linda, but these things take time. I should know.

Waiting for a baby that doesn't seem to be in a hurry is a lot more fun and relaxing when the baby isn't parked in my belly, a week past due. And that is how I have a little sweater for Everett, fresh off the (size 2!) needles and complete with little vintage buttons.





The pattern is on The Purl Bee and I made it with scrap yarn that, of course, I ran out of and had to go and buy another skein to finish. The project details are on my ravelry page.

And now all we need is the little guy to wear it. We're all ready and waiting.

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

 

Inspired by Amanda. 

finding

I made lemon curd today.

For the first time in months, I found myself during nap time with nothing that had to be done and a bagful of meyer lemons begging to be squeezed.

They smelled heavenly, in that healing way.

************

These months have been rough.

When things fall apart, it's not a one time deal. Pieces continue to crumble and the descent is scary. And just when it seems like things can't get worse, they do.

But then there are people whose lovingkindness shines through the murk.

People who send an encouraging email.

People who text me just to check in.

People who deliver a surprise load of firewood and insist we don't pay them for it.

People who give us a car because having a second set of wheels is one thing that will make some of this easier.

People whose generosity is overwhelming.

Merry Christmas

culling

cull [v.] to take the best part of.

Some days are so full of wondrous life and blog-worthy moments that there just isn't time to record them.

Some days are so full of darkening details, sickness and sorrow, and necessary busyness that there is no time (or strength) to record any of it.

We have had a lot of both lately.

As I type, we are somewhere in the desert between Flagstaff and Albuquerque, returning home after a much-needed Thanksgiving vacation with Gabriel's family in California. A vacation that almost didn't happen because of a nasty virus that had me still in bed when we had already planned to be at the beach. But we made it, and it was worth the long drive, even for a shortened visit, and even though we will still be driving until tomorrow.

This next week will be right back into the thick of reality. Monday morning, i will be back at work since I am still filling in as the kitchen manager at Brighthaven, River is getting tubes in his ears on Wednesday, and Forest flies out on Thursday because of the ever-developing family drama. And Gabriel will be gone on business all week. Yes, right back into the thick of reality.

Yet we have still had some great moments these past few weeks: nearly 2 weeks with Molly and Andres, Halloween at the Tulsa Zoo, a much-longed for visit with Crystal, Simone, and Everett, and Linda's baby shower. Those pictures are all piled on my hard drive, waiting for attention.

Finding the time for everything is just not possible right now, which is much easier for me to write than the daily practice of actually letting go of some things.

But reexamining priorities is always a good thing. So is letting go of expectations, like our plans to move. It seems as if we are still supposed to be in Arkansas. At least for now. We are adjusting to that idea.

A little over a week ago now, Gabriel tended to some necessary business with our backyard hens. One of them, a Rhode Island Red, had been afflicted with terrible diarrhea for over a month. I kept expecting to find her dead, but then another hen came down with it. All of my research pointed to the same conclusion: we had to cull the flock, killing the two sick hens in order to save our other ladies.

Gabe chopped off their heads, and Liam watched. Well, he wanted to see the first one and then opted out of witnessing the second. He was so matter of fact about it, coming into the house and announcing "Daddy is cutting up our sick chickens." I asked him if it was sad. He said yes, but didn't seem traumatized in any way. Facts of life, I suppose.

But it was hard on Gabe, the slaughtering.

And to add to that day's sadness, a strong gust of wind cracked the trunk of the maple tree we had grown from a seedling since we bought our house nearly 8 years ago. Cutting it to the ground was even more of a loss to my poor husband than the death of our chickens.

Sometimes being the grown up means doing the terribly difficult things that have to be done. And he did. I am so proud of him.

Sometimes some things have to go in order for life to go on. This blog isn't one of those things. I still need it as a record and an outlet. But as long as I am still working, I will be pressed for time to actually use this space. Hopefully, it won't be too much longer. I am ready for things to calm down again, but in the meantime, I am trying to be grateful for this crazy season.