The last?

The twins turned nine months a few days ago. Phoebe is pulling herself up and doing some cruising. Jabe crawls like a robot wined-up toy. Today I introduced sippy cups. So many milestones I have crossed off their list already. Their birthday will be here before I know it. (Or want it.) I can't help but become emotional when I wonder , "will this be the last of my babies?". A part of me would be great if it is. A part of me morns for the future me who misses the weight of her own babies sleeping on her chest. Because I still have four frozen embryo's left out of my amazing batch of fifteen, I feel I am not allowed to look at Jabe and Phoebe as my last. I feel I still need room in my heart for one more frozen blessing. There is a greater then great chance that nothing will become of these last hopefuls. But until I know, I've saved all the clothes and the swing and the bouncy chairs. All stuffed in the attic wondering if they'll ever be used again.

A walk in the park

Flirting Tips from a 3 year old

So Tobin is drawn to a ten year old girl at my birthday party. He sits way too close to her and rubs her back. He gives her "bed room" eyes and says smugly, "I go poop in the potty". She inches away.

Sorry buddy. Better luck next time.

A few more

The best thing

The best thing about a funeral is being with family. We had relatives from California, Tennessee, and Washington. We all crammed into a little house at the coast and had a blast. The babies were held every moment (They are having a hard time adjusted today) and the music. Oh the music. Four guitars, a harmonica, a beer jug and a few singers (some better then others). So much fun during a sad time. Here are some pictures of my spectacular family.

Where to begin?

I've had blog topics rolling around in my mind for weeks now. The last funny story from Tobin, My thirtieth birthday that was fabulous and I was ridiculously spoiled. But today I must blog about my grandpa Earl. People say that girls "marry" their fathers. I didn't, I "married" my grandpa. He is a man that is as close to Christ as I have known. My grandpa has a way of loving and welcoming everyone he greats with a smile and his latest joke. He knows how to fix everything with duck tape and old plywood. He taught us all how to make whistles out of tree branches and to not be ashamed about giving old grandpa a kiss on the lips.
My grandma Barb and the love of his life, died just over a year ago. She was a queen to him. He showed us an example of long lasting commitment and unending love. I, nor my mom, ever remember him ever speaking an ill word about anyone. I just can't stress enough what a Christ-like life he has lead. He has been a pastor his whole life. And not just on Sunday mornings at the pulpit but his everyday comings and goings.
Most importantly to me. . . What I will cherish as simple as it is, Grandpa lights up every time he sees me. (to be fair he does this will all his grand kids) He made this awkward kid feel like a precious rare jem.
Last night I said goodbye to my beloved Grandpa Earl. He is dieing. If I were able to write a script for the best way to die I couldn't out do the perfect way God has designed for my grandpa. His death will not be a sudden, unexpected shock. His death will not be painful, long, burdening. His death is surrounded by loved ones. His legacy. His future. Some of us cousins had an incredible experience with him last night were he suddenly became alert and we surrounded him with stories of thankfulness and told some of his old jokes that made him smile. My cousin Jordan shared of their resent talks about how Jordan feels frustrated with the church today and it's sometimes hypocrisy and bureaucracy. Grandpa sympathised with him and said, "Jordan you can't change the church looking on the outside but must change it within." What wisdom. After we were done talking Grandpa simply muttered, "You are all special". Later all the family came in his room and my Uncle Phil led us in prayer. In the tearful silence after the amen Grandpa simply said, "Blessed."
Grandpa go to Jesus. Your glory awaits you.

I don't want to talk about it.

I know, I know. Its been a long time. We've been infested with colds, infections, and pink eye. Someone needs to carpet bomb our house. I really don't want to go into what the last three weeks have felt like. I don't want to remember the walks in the backyard in the middle of the night to get Phoebe to breath normally, I don't want to discuss hundreds of filled diarrhea diapers I've changed. I have no need to share with you the almost impossible task of eye drops three times daily for three children and one adult. I'd rather be silent about boxes of tissue we have used on snotty babies. Instead I'd rather talk about SPRING. Whatever magic happens when spring arrives and bakes all the germs and lawn mower start up and screen doors let fresh smells in stale houses. I am sooo ready for it.