When Christina, Brian, and Becky were little, way back when Becky was going by the nickname of “Lori” and we had a big brown dog they named “Dakota” after a Disney song from a movie that went on repeat for easily two months… we lived in a house with three huge windows in the living room that opened to the huge front yard and made it easy to see the summer storm lightning shows.
Dakota would hide under the table during the storms. Christina and Becky had just watched the Fireworks over the Matanzas – our one family tradition that has never been interrupted for 16 years – and they comforted Dakota by saying, “it is all okay, Dakota, this is just God’s Fireworks in the sky.”
One of the first summer storms to pop up this year and we get this picture and the following video: beautiful examples of the volatility and beauty of nature. The big girls had to tell the little ones the story of Dakota and how we came to call lightning shows “God’s Fireworks.”
We listened to the wind outside howl and thunder last night. I’m reminded of the changes in seasons. From drought so bad we had to carefully nurse our garden with deep watering twice daily to this rain so filling that our watermelons and tomatoes are splitting.
Rainy season and hurricane season are here. Change.
We choose to embrace each change in life as it comes. We adapt through changes. Sometimes we don’t like the change: like being locked away, losing jobs, losing summer camps, losing scholarship opportunities, losing VBS, losing the potential for a house… etc.
But we overcome and rise with new goals and hopes.
We shift our job focus from what makes money to what we love! We stop watering the garden and now watch for the signs of splitting fruit. We work harder. We find other opportunities. We chose to look for the good in each event. We choose to see the setbacks as challenges to rise above.
We choose not to be bitter. This is a hard one. We must understand two things: we only can move forward and we can only change ourselves. We cannot control what circumstances we are thrown into but we can control our reactions to said circumstances.
I choose love. I choose joy. I pray my children follow in my example and choose love and joy when life throws them circumstances that seem unfair.
The lightning reminds me today that the world is broken. Lightning can cause damage. Lightning can cause death. But lighting shows are beautiful, awe inspiring dancing electrons in gorgeous flashes of bright light and colored thunderhead clouds. I choose to see the potentially dangerous lighting show as beautiful: “God’s Fireworks”
I choose to see setbacks and losses as potential to rise with joy and allow the peace that passes all understanding to rule my heart. Odd that lighting makes me think of contention and losses… but that’s my weirdly wired brain.
Sometimes you choose a pet. You know, you excitedly go to the shelter or the pet store and the perfect friend snags your heart instantly.
Sometimes you are fostering a litter of puppies and one looks up at you with a connection that will never break.
(Christina and Primrose: Pretty sure this was the day she decided to keep her!)
This was the way with Christina and the little black puppy that became our Primrose (Primmy, Prim, or even Primrose Everdeen Tart – when she has chewed something).
Prim has been in our home for two baby births. Until Lucas was about 2, he was her little pup. She followed him around, protected him, and I used to say if dogs choose their people, Prim chose Christina and Lucas. The second birth she’s been here for is Theadora.
Thea loves Prim. She gets excited when Prim snuggles up next to her and squeals “my doggie!” and will either pet her gently or snuggle her whole little face into Prim’s soft fur. Thea also feeds Prim everything… if it tastes really “yummy!” then a bit of it gets dropped over the highchair after “doggie!” gets yelled. Prim knows that means – come get food.
It’s hard for me to get these as pictures because Thea knows what a phone is. If I try to take a picture while I’m sitting next to her, she drops what she’s doing and grabs said phone!
Lucas has grown away from Prim and animals – he likes things with wheels right now. He gets super excited about small animals like helping with the Guinea Pigs or Minuit, but big ones are pillow to him, that’s it.
Prim is a pillow or sleeping buddy for anyone on the couch – although she isn’t supposed to be there; she just took up Sheba’s lookout position. At night, she snuggles curled up in a little ball on the end of Christina’s, Lucas’ or Jillian’s bed. She loves her people. She’ll snuggle next to Thea’s baby pen if Thea’s sleeping there – nestled under the table but up against the baby pen.
We went to visit a friend & they had a Jack Russel puppy. When Thea got home she grabbed Prim in a hug and stroked her saying softly, “my doggie, my doggie.” My baby is thankful for her special doggie.
Once there was a little girl who
loved dogs and prayed for a little black dog.
Her mom had already agreed to take the least wanted puppy from a litter
about to happen. Her mom prayed the
puppy was black.
A few weeks later, Mom got a call – the mommy dog had shoved one baby puppy away and it needed special care. Mom said, “we’ll take it” and the tiny “runt of the litter” fluffy puppy came to her furever home. That was February 25, 2008, almost 12 years ago. And yes, other than a white spot on her tummy that grew to cover her belly and some brownish tan on her paws, the puppy was black!
Sheba with (L-to-R) Kimberly (Sheba loved snuggling on the couch), Jaquline (Sheba would sleep on the walker to keep Kimberly and Becky from “racing” the baby around!), and Thea.
Sheba became the Tart family’s
perfect dog. She loved the three little
humans who grew up with her. Kimberly
was only five months older than Sheba!
Sheba ran around, grew up, played, made doggie friends, herded chickens,
mothered lost dogs who wandered in, loved on chickens when the Tarts lived on
their farm, snuggled with baby chicks, guinea pigs, the two rabbits, and Christina’s
baby puppy, Prim.
Sheba had a wonderful doggie
life.
L-to-R: Sheba with Jaquline (Jaquline insisted Sheba loved “Snow Dogs”), Kimberly had “dressed” Sheba in a beaded necklace she made, Sheba’s favorite sleeping position on any couch.
L-to-R: Sheba in the playroom, Sheba loved the tile floor in that house!, Mom said “no more movies” and the girls couldn’t find the remote… (Sheba had it!) Sheba loved to sleep on that table for some odd reason.
(top) Sheba with puppy Primrose, (bottom)Sheba with Lady (one of our doggie friends), (right) Thea climbed up on the couch to snuggle Sheba, who was sleeping in her new, weird, favorite position.
L-to-R: Baby Lucas, Jillian, and Sheba at the end of the bed (right next to the crib), Sheba’s favorite spot in that garage (next to the food bag!), Thea rubbing Sheba (she loved her soft fur and had just learned “dog!”)
Last year she started to slow down a
bit. In December of this year, she
started feeling sick some days. The vet
said her stomach was failing. Vitamins and special food helped a little. She wasn’t able to digest all her food and
she would get skinny and we had decided once she was in pain, we would put her to
sleep. None of us wanted to lose our
Sheba. She loved being outside when it
was cool because she was bushy furry (we
teased she was an a/c dog because she slept on one of the air conditioning vents
in summer and almost refused to go outside in summer daylight!). On cooler days, she would play on our run
while we were outside. Christmas Day it
was gorgeous. Sheba said hi to both
Grandmas when they visited and ran outside almost the whole day in gentle cool
breezes. We were petting and snuggling
with her by turns. She sleeps a lot since
she’s been over 10 so when she curls down to sleep we usually let her rest. We were enjoying a Christmas campfire and
telling stories. Louis went inside to
get some water. I knew Sheba was fully
asleep when Louis stopped by her longer than just to stroke her and turned his
flashlight on. I handed Thea to Mom and
we verified that she was fully gone. I stroked her soft, fluffy coat one last
time before I wrapped her in her blanket.
The older girls came out to
help. We buried her and said goodbye to
our best furry friend. Sheba had spent
more time with me than any other dog.
She was our first family dog. My mom said, “Sheba probably found Boompa
and Aunt Mary in heaven.” Christina laughed, “oh, yes, she instantly found Aunt
Mary!” Because every time Mary would stay with us, Sheba would seek her bed out
and snuggle with her – I’d be like, “no dogs in the bed, Mary,” and she’d
giggle, wrap Sheba in a bear hug and say, “but she’s a big, fluffy stuffed
animal!” and Sheba would give us the sweet sad eyes so she’d get to sleep with
Mary. Sheba always snuggled up with
anyone who wasn’t feeling well – she always seemed to know before we did.
Kimberly said she had prayed that
Sheba would get to run loose outside, thinking of us having a fenced yard at our
new house, but Sheba had been running loose anytime she was outside lately and stayed
near the house because she didn’t feel good.
Louis set candles out on her grave
for the night. We’ve planted flowers
now. Each pet we’ve lost, we’ve buried
and planted a tree over it as a reminder. Louis called Sheba our perfect dog. That she was.
The Garden Bed we planted for Sheba
Thea’s first Christmas was Sheba’s
last. Our furry family treasure went to
heaven, “raced over the rainbow bridge” as Jillian said, after spending a full
Christmas Day with her family and “Grandmas.” It had been Sheba’s favorite
outside day, gentle cool breezes with a mild, wintery temperature where she’d
stand, face in the wind and wag that super fluffy “duster” tail. I’m going to
miss my Sheba. Two months shy of 12 full
years from her February 25th birthday – rather long for a dog. Goodbye, my sweet, lovable, playful furry
baby; I love you Sheba, run free and fast with no leash and no borders! Your
human family will miss you!
I love how children ask
questions. Sometimes their questions
make you go search something. Like “what
is a rainbow?” or “why are leaves green?”
Sometimes their questions mirror
your own; but those you won’t speak.
You know, questions that your
doubting mind asks but your thinking heart understands.
“Why are you crying?” I ask.
My little girl is riding with me to go pick up two of her big sisters, “why did Aunt Mary die? Why is Mandy’s mom gone? Jay is a baby; he will never remember his mom.”
Her tears fall as she speaks. I let her finish talking. My heart aches. I ask those questions in my head too.
“I miss my baby sister too.” I
start, I want to connect with her heart. “Our world is broken because of sin.” She nods, she has heard this too.
“I know,” she is still slowly
crying, “but she loved Jesus since she was little like me.” (Mary
had told them once that she was five when she promised Jesus her heart. I was
there. She was telling everyone about
Jesus and was just five years old.)
Jaquline didn’t know how complex her aunt’s life had become so
fast. Because of sinful controlling people
in her life that kept her bogged down, in fear of her life or her family’s
life, and assaulted her mentally as they tried to keep her quiet and separate her
from anyone who truly loved her. As a
young teen, some guy misused her, showed her that from a certain spot he could
see her father’s bedroom, and told her one shot through the window would kill
the man she loved the most. He was the
first to rip her young heart to shreds with his awful controlling self – then
he had the gall to continue to threaten her when she moved 300 miles away! Others treated her like dirt; lying about
those she loved and people who cared about her until she actually believed these
lies and isolated herself from those who would have helped her.
I could hate these people. Instead I pray for them.
But she’s my baby sister. There was a part of me that wanted to go “Good
Citizen” on their carcasses. But I know
Jesus died for them just like He died for me and I am supposed to love my
enemies.
Switch back to my car on the
interstate with my nine year old sitting shotgun with silent tears crawling
down her fair cheeks. This all flashes
really fast so the same song is still playing.
“Do you ever think about where Aunt
Mary is now?” Jaquline says. Newsong’s “My Heart is Already There” was playing in
the background.
“Yes.” All the time. That comforts me. “She’s with Jesus. Can you imagine? Being in His presence and seeing his face?”
Jaquline giggles. “Maybe all her
puppies will be there.” (Mary loved animals and was always trying to
get a dog, but always the guy she lived with didn’t want one.)
“Remember the pictures of her as a
baby chasing Boodle?” I ask (cutest little
Maltese my family had twenty years ago) Jaquline laughs. “I bet she’s petting him instead of chasing
him now.”
“I ask Jesus why Aunt Mary is gone.”
Her voice is distant. “He doesn’t answer.”
I sighed, “do you know why Jesus
made us?”
“To be with Him.” Bingo.
“Yes, He wanted a relationship with
us. He loves each of us. He didn’t want Mary to die, but now she is
with Him all the time. Only God knows
when each person’s time comes to die. We
all will die one day.”
“I always hope to die when I’m old
like Boompa,” Jaquline said. “I’m not so
sad for Boompa, but I’m so sad for Aunt Mary.
I’m sad for Grandma.” Yes. Same
for me. I miss my father immensely. I miss my sister. I can’t fathom the depth of grief for my
mother.
“Jesus will comfort Grandma. We have to help love her too.” I say.
“We can be Jesus’ arms and hug her!”
Jaquline’s tears have dried a bit and she’s now thinking about serving
others. She loves helping; it usually
brings her happiness.
“Yes.” I smiled at her as we
parked. “And sometimes Jesus uses her
arms to hug you, too.”
Big smiles return.
Yes. I totally miss my sister. I grieve for the harshness she ended up living through for the last few years of her life. 23. Her life’s clock stopped so short, only 23 years. I always dreamed of her silly dancing at our Christmas parties for ages, smiling her beaming-happy-smile as she watched nieces and her daughter walk shakily down their aisle to their forever-love, dancing with her sons at their weddings, encouraging my teenagers in their Christian walk toward womanhood, and living her new-found free life focused on her three little angels. Their plans, maybe not together, but at least working together for the best – the children. So, yes, I asked that question. “Why, God? Why is my baby sister dead?” It seemed so surreal for me. No body. No last look. No nothing. I keep expecting her to drive up, drop the littles off, and enjoy some of whatever food we have just cooked.
I know this world is broken by
sin. I know it wasn’t ever in God’s plan
for us to have death. I know my
grandmothers, father, and baby sister are in heaven in the presence of God. I have hope I will see them again. But yes, I did ask those questions. Yes, my heart aches for my family who must
live without her. I pray for all of us
daily. I find it hardest to pray for
those who have hurt her, but that is my challenge. I must love them as Jesus did.
My mind drifts back:
“…He has called us too! He has
called us too! We are all disciples!
Even me and you!” The little voice yells each stanza of the VBS
song. Jumping with excitement, “did I
get them all right?”
I had been singing along and am
raking something for a vegetable bed. “Yes,
Mary, don’t bounce on my tilled dirt.” We laugh and she points at her shoeprints.
“Yippeeeeeee!” She hollers and
spins. “Where’s Easter! I’m gonna sing it to Easter!” And she runs off in a singing blur, little
bright blue eyes sparkling with life, long wispy blonde hair flying about in
the Georgia breeze, she’s going to find that silly yellow hen that actually
loves to be captured by Mary and sits contentedly tucked in her arms. I look up to see my vibrant baby sister
swinging on the swingset with Easter in her lap, projecting her beautiful voice
with some soul-singer power as she practices the song for tomorrow’s VBS
service. (You know, where the kids show
off to the adults what they’ve learned in the week) Mary would tell the
world that she asked Jesus in her heart about two years later. She had such a love for life and care for
others. No one is perfect. We aren’t Jesus. I love her for her heart. I will always love my baby sister. No, loss
never “gets easy” but I do have hope in Jesus that I will see her again. And that keeps me out of falling into
bitterness. I can’t allow my grief to turn into bitterness. I can’t be Rose from Overcomer; I have to
choose joy.
And just like a soundtrack to my
life, as I slide back in the car with the two older girls in tow, For King and
Country’s “I Choose Joy” is shouting from the speakers.
Yesterday was a day of firsts for me to watch. Theadora is just beginning to want to explore. She has this cute portable baby holder (looks like a walker, but baby just stays put in it and plays with some toys you choose to attach), you know, like a camp chair only for babies. She liked that fine for a few months – at home, outside, at work, she was happy standing there, doing squats, and playing with her turtle.
Thea in my office with her portable baby holder
Then a friend gave her a baby
bouncer. This thing is like a walker,
except it’s attached to springs on the frame and stays in one place with built
in activities and a seat that spins 360 degrees! Epic.
Thea loves it. When we get home,
that’s what she wants! Christina
introduced her to the drum set – and Thea loves that too. Banging on stuff with both hands is now a bonafide
activity.
And this is the bouncer Thea loves!
Now the portable baby holder doesn’t
cut it. Thea jumps in it and makes the
whole thing move. The dogs in my office
have differing opinions on that – Faux is cautious, Beau thinks “Yippee, new
toy,” and Lily looked up at me, whined, and vacated the office.
She loves the floor too!
Thea wants the floor or the
bouncer. No in-betweens. On the floor, she’s been pretty static. She has been rolling for about three months,
but carefully, as all the floors in her environments are hard – she seems to
have figured that slow, controlled rolling is how to do that without pain. She’s been doing what I call “Superman Baby”
since about the same time, but swivels round and round in a three-foot
radius. I could put her on her blanket
and she was good – wouldn’t leave it.
Yesterday she discovered two new
things:
She grabbed the baby holder, pulled
it over to her, and pulled herself up to sit!
Mom is not ready for that!
“Spiderman Baby” aka being spread
eagle like an X, pushes up with her arms like a push-up and toes to feet with a
shove and rockets about a foot at a time forward! Mom is really not ready for that!
Mom is not ready for Thea to be mobile! I thought this as my mind replied, “were you ready for Christina to fly? Drive? How about Becky taking college classes? Kimberly flipping around in gym? Jaquline wearing high-heels? Jillian making lunch? Lucas finally tying his own shoes?” Everything in life is a next level. I love baby mode aka infant level, but also enjoy watching them grow and mature. I enjoy being a part of their fantastic lives.
Thea just jumped from infant level to mobile baby level – watch out world! (Or, maybe just watch out house.)
Yesterday I entered a bit of nostalgia. My facebook timeline mentioned a memory of Father’s Day a few years ago.
Father’s Day.
This is the first Father’s Day when my Daddy is in heaven.
The first thoughts were sad. Theadora, who was laying on her tummy in the office talking to Faux, one of the office dogs, has never seen her Granddaddy. I haven’t written anything in any of my books since he’s passed – more likely because I’ve been working two jobs but it feels like there’s no one to discuss book ideas with. I wonder if I’ve made the right decisions; Daddy would listen and he’s been in this position before. On the ride home the radio show host asked “what does your Father want for Father’s Day?” and I remembered all Daddy ever wanted all the time was just to spend time with us.
Then I realized, as I do every time I’m sad about Daddy being gone, that I’m being selfish. Daddy had spent more than two-thirds of his life without his Father. None of us ever met our Grandfather Pearson – whom Thea was named after. This is the first Father’s Day that my Daddy gets to hang out with his father – and with Jesus! How cool is that?
Daddy isn’t in pain anymore. He’s running, tending trees, worshiping Jesus, dancing with his Mom, you know… silly things we Earth-bound think about as being fun. I wonder how many questions he’s asked God – he had a long long list of them we used to discuss.
I realized reading my last few posts leading up to his death that I’d been writing about eternity, “Finals Week” was published one week before he passed. Odd, in retrospect, it’s like God was letting us know in Daddy’s way – with a bit of humor, as this cartoon was his idea! – that He was about to take Daddy home.
Home (Heaven) is where we belong. On Earth, we love and learn. We miss those gone, but we look forward to meeting our heavenly Father (God) one day!
Our love is forever. I will love my Daddy forever.
A friend gifted me All-In-One cloth diapers & this is my system!
March 26, 2019
Diaper System 2 Go
I have this amazing job where three doggies (one of whom is in our logo) meander in and out of the office all day. Thea gets to come with me. Because one of our office doggies likes to chew garbage, I decided not to give him the temptation of a full baby disposable.
Have you ever cleaned up a dog-shredded once-loaded disposable diaper? No? Take my word for it then ~ it’s totally gross.
Usually our babies have used disposable diapers while out and washables at home. A friend and fellow washable-diaper-mom, gave me about 40 of these new washables. (I gave away many extras already; we don’t keep what we don’t need.)
They are all-in-one! (All the others have used covers with pinned or snapped inside cloths.)
I take four diapers like these,
at least five baby washcloths in the wipe case,
and one spare outfit
all neatly folded in this cute bag.
Oh, not forgetting the wet bag!
We change just before the 35 minute commute.
When it is time to change at work, we use water + the washcloths to wipe, roll up the dirty in the wet bag, and proceed with the day.
At home, we empty the wet bag: rinse any solids off, spray with simple green, and wash with lemon cleaner and detergent. Easy.
Behind the Picture: Thea and the Apple – Becky and her photography & funny snippets.
February 25, 2019
Behind the Picture! Thea and the Apple
Becky likes photography.
Becky has an interesting sense of humor. When she takes pictures on the play phone and sends it to me, I get this: (Thea is about an hour old)
Kimberly and Christina changed Thea, bundled her up, and as Kimberly is bringing her to me, I hear a singing voice: “We’re taking the baby to Isengard!” (I have no clue how I have the honor of being “Isengard,” but this was the look I got: )
In the first picture, Becky was trying to get good pictures of newborn Thea. Becky was making faces to get her attention, Lucas ran up with an apple in hand to “help,” and Becky ended up with a picture that had just the “wrong” angle – but it made a funny meme picture.
The girls are totally enjoying having a new baby sister – and Lucas loves being her “protector.” He told Louis he was “protecting Baby Thea from dog kisses, bad dinosaurs, and big sisters when they don’t listen.” (The last was likely because Jillian kept touching Thea’s head when we said not to touch her soft spot.)
I’m so blessed by their joy and love towards their new sister! Christina, who was worried about being “too much older” than the baby, can’t get enough time holding her! I am twelve years and eleven months older than my baby sister (she was also my parents’ seventh) – so I told Christina and Becky they both were older “big sisters” than I was. (15 yrs 4 mos & 13 yrs 4 mos, respectively) At this, Becky sends me a “wow” emoji though we are sitting at the same table! (She was supposed to be using the phone as a calculator.)
A birth story of our little angel (and a slideshow of proud siblings & family!)
February 22, 2019
The Story of Baby Thea
If you’ve been following my blog, you know I was growing my seventh little angel.
Today, I get to write the story of her arrival!
On February 19th, a beautiful Tuesday morning, my day started normally. During my 32 minute drive to work, the Baby started thinking there was not enough room and my body did the stretching contractions (Braxton-Hicks) that is very normal for me in the last month or two before birth. I didn’t think much of it, really. After my boss left for appointments, one of my office companions, Lily, a beautiful brown and white pittie belonging to my boss, started laying at my feet and wouldn’t let me go anywhere without her! This was a bit of a warning to me because Sheba (my Aussie mix) always does this to me when I’m in active labor. I left at one (normal time) to get to Christina and then my midwife appointment.
Christina had been babysitting, finished some errands at the college so she would be ready for the summer semester, caught the bus to 207 (the road I take into town), and was waiting for me. Along the way, my midwife texted to reschedule the appointment to Thursday and I laughed during my voice-text because I was very tired and that worked great for me. I added, “or when Baby is ready,” as a joke because my babies have all come on or after the due date. Everyone had been rooting for a February birth since the official “due date” was February 24th, and except for Lucas, my wee ones were between 9 and 13 days “overdue” so I usually ignored the due date and just gave a general month (in this case, I’d been saying March).
I got Christina, teased her about driving (she’s recently received her learner’s permit), and we headed home. Sheba was acting odd, I was starving; Louis had made lasagna Monday so I ate a huge plate and took a short nap.
When I got to gym with Becky (her class is on Tuesday, the others are all Wednesday), the contractions were still there, but, like I said, that is normal for me. It had been happening off and on already for about a week and a half, so I just went about work because they were easy to ignore. Some friends and I chatted about babies as I was leaving, and someone said, “you know about your body by now, right?” I laughed, “each is different, but I’m still thinking March.”
Wow, was I wrong.
As Becky texted Christina and Louis to tell them we were off & headed to pick up Christina at CAP, Becky said, “Mom, I can’t drive us home, but if the baby keeps contracting like that, maybe Christina can.”
We laughed. Part of the driving restrictions on a learner’s permit forbid night driving for the first few months; but we always teased Christina that she’d have to drive home in the dark if I was in labor.
Home, I was starved, but my belly felt full after four strawberries. I took a shower and crashed. I kept waking up every couple hours, but I’m a light sleeper so that’s also normal. Each time, though, I noticed contractions. I’d check my phone just to see what time it was. Midnight. 1:40. 2:30. 3:50. At almost 4, I realized I was sweating and I decided to wait for fifteen minutes (so the water softener cycle was finished) and take a shower. The next glance at my watch showed 4:19. I took a shower and the first contraction after the water hit was very strong. I felt movement inside me. “Wow, you sure you’re ready?” I asked. I was sure that was just a fluke and usually the warm water calms contractions down. When the next two made my legs feel like jelly, I got out of the shower and crawled back into bed. The phone said 4:35. I wasn’t about to wake anyone or call Misti for three oddly strong contractions.
I tried to sleep. I had about two hours before I had to get ready for work.
At somewhere before 6am, I tried getting ready for work. I had to stop and breathe through contractions that were easy to time and I felt the baby moving slowly down inside of me. I was about to wake Louis but ended up stretching through a contraction. We have a mind link, I think. Louis woke up as I was stretching. He goes into mega cleaning and question mode. This is his serious mode. He has been through it enough to know we were going to have a baby this morning – or at least today. He told me to call Misti, he woke the kids up to help clean (normally, we clean before bed, but they had been in a non-cleaning mood the previous night), and directed the house with efficiency. I was restless, so kept walking around in between. Christina and Becky didn’t want to get out of bed. I went into the barracks to find out why not.
“Mom! You can’t have the baby in here!” Christina shrieked, covering her head.
“So, get up please and help Daddy with cleaning. Y’all should have done that last night. Once you finish, you can go back to bed, but he’s really stressing about the house and people coming so please help.”
No answer. I could feel another contraction creeping up. “Okay, you have about 20 seconds before I get another contraction and…”
Christina bolted, “MOM! I’m up! I’ll help Dad! GET CONTRACTIONS OUT OF MY ROOM!”
Becky was up too. Kimberly was definitely awake. Mission accomplished. I went back to the kitchen table. My “leave” alarm reminded me to text or call my boss. 6am though, I figured I should just text – plus I didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment.
Misti showed up (can’t remember if the house was clean, but based on the voices and giggling and a movie being on, I’d guess it was straightened). Mom was on the way, she told us she had to be at one of my brother’s promotions at 8am. The girls had turned on “The Two Towers” and as Louis walked by during the Uruk-hai production scene and he ordered, “Turn that off, you can see a real birth soon enough.” I can’t remember if the result was “Wild Kratts” or “Dumbo” but there was something far less messy on the tv a minute later. (I did hear one of the teenagers or preteens quip, “Mom will sound like an orc.” Louis and I laughed. We’re nerds.)
By 8:30, I was immune to the world. I heard Misti’s voice, smelled Louis (I was leaning on him), and faintly heard background voices. I was focused on this job.
8:42am and our little one came into the world, veiled. Misti took the bag off and the Baby screamed to test the limit of her lungs! (We didn’t know Baby was a “she” just yet!) Baby opened her eyes fully and stared up at me. Then she screamed to rattle the roof again. The dogs were barking. We discovered our Baby was Thea!
Welcome to our crazy world, Theadora Taliesyn Tart. You are loved and cherished!
Theadora (after her great-grandfather Melvin Theodore Pearson) means “gifted by God” and Taliesyn (feminine form of your grandfather’s favorite character from a Celtic legend) means, “one with the shining brow, one who sings wisdom.” And Daddy chose the nickname “Thea” because he likes it. (Your uncle texted that he’d call you “3T” – yes, Daddy searched for two “T” names we both liked!) I kept both names the same length, since that’s what we’ve done – all of the children’s names have the same number of letters in the first name and middle name. Theadora 8 letters, Taliesyn 8 letters – told you we are nerds.
Mom (Grandma Joanne in the pictures) came back with a shower of baby girl goodies! (And, yes, this is why she’s in such cute clothes once we managed to get them on her!)
Theadora, I pray you always feel the love of your family as you wiggle your way up to adulthood. I pray you feel the warmth and see the light of God’s love reflected in the faces of your sisters and brother, mother and father, aunts and uncles, grandparents and cousins. We have accepted the honor of being your guides to lead you to Jesus, to raise you in love, and to give you room to find, develop, and follow the passion of life God has rooted within you. You are a daughter of God, a precious gift to us, and chosen to bring light through your smile.
Becky said I can’t post a baby story without her pictures! So here is a little slideshow:
Lucas kept trying to “pet” and “kiss” Baby Thea
Christina & Thea (oldest & youngest)
Lucas said “you are my love, Baby Thea!”
Grandma Joanne & Thea
Christina and Becky are already vying for who gets the baby
Yummy harvest for us, fried treats for our doggies!
August 4, 2018
Yummy Harvest
Primrose (Christina’s 4-year-old Aussie mix) is waiting by the stove while we walk in and out. Nothing is cooking there yet, but she knows this is harvest day, and she knows Rebeccah’s special treat is to fry up livers in butter. Mom likes them, but it started as a treat for the doggies.
Funny how they know. Sheba (our family’s 11-year-old Aussie mix) pretends she’s too old to move and half-wags her tail from her favorite spot in the house – curled up on top of the air vent in the den. She strategically puts herself in the room where most people congregate, next to the shoe shelf so as they are leaving she can shoot them with sad eyes to see if she can guilt anyone into talking her outside. Sheba perks up each time one of the kids comes in the back door, but since no one is carrying the big canning pot yet, she knows it’s still sleeping time.
In I come with the canning pot – Louis has decided to barbecue the chickens, but only three fit on the grill, so the fourth and all the trimmings are in that pot. Usually, all the chickens are in the pot to be dissected, wrapped, and put away. The gizzards and hearts are wrapped and frozen (I’ll fry them next time we have fried chicken). Today’s harvest was tender young chickens and the preferred method of cooking is grilling or baking, whole. So the fourth is wrapped and frozen. This leaves the trimmed skins and livers. The skins are saved for broth (I’ll add the bones and whatever trimmings from the birds being barbecued and simmer with some seasonings, this round should net about 2 to 3 quarts of “concentrated” broth.)
Rebeccah takes control of the livers. Now Sheba and Prim are sitting by the stove, wagging their tails and almost begging. They know that stuff is going in their bowl. Livers don’t freeze well. They are best fresh. The only one in the household who likes liver is Mom (me), but I don’t like to eat a ton of them. So I’ll take a few ounces and leave the rest for the pups.
Finally! Rebeccah is done (it really only takes about three minutes, but looking at the dogs, you’d think they were waiting for years). She rinses the pan in just enough water to make sure all the yummy goop is washed into the dog bowls and splits the contents of the pan between the two dogs. They’ll get all the skins and other meat bits off the bones after I’ve boiled and strained the broth the next day too, but fried livers are their every-two-month treat, and they LOVE it.
Our theory is that Prim realizes the chickens are the liver treat source and therefore protects them jealously from any other animal – but she’s never hurt a chicken because she likes the finished product.
Yummy barbecue for us, yummy treat for our canine protectors.
