Fall. Day 2.

There is a 40 degree difference between Monday’s high and today’s!

Our air-conditioner went out on Sunday. I was able to slug through the next near-90 degree days (83 inside our house) only by looking repeatedly and hopefully at the weather app on my phone and its projected weekend weather. Finally it is here. And it has not disappointed! It rolled in yesterday (the first official day of fall) with highs in the low 60s and a tremendous rain-storm (hail and a tiny tornado touch down for my siblings 20 minutes from here) that has continued off and on for the last 22 hours.

(Note: these pictures – eager to be seen, and breaking up text pleasantly as they are – have nothing particularly to do with this topic.)

It arrived with spicy sausage and potato soup (the kids weren’t too big on the “spicy” [sissies] ), cut up peaches from our nearby, Perry fruit stands, and a chilly walk (wherein Mike gentlemanly insisted I wrap myself up in his Carhartt coat as he often will) up the street to watch our local high school’s Homecoming parade (and to send Abe off with friends for his first big “bonfire the night before the Homecoming game” . . . thing).

And today? I kept the windows open (so we could hear and smell the rain) until our house was near-freezing. Then, after doing several things that absolutely needed doing around here, I dumped out a bucket of toys, grabbed a pillow and a blanket, and threw myself down next to them in a state of exhausted half-sleep. I knew that if I was right there the little people wouldn’t lose interest as quickly as usual. And I was right. Anders piled four blankets next to me (from what I could gather in my sleepy state, he was a koala and those blankets were his koala tree . . . ?). Mette seemed completely content crawling over me – back and forth, back and forth – occasionally stopping on the toy-pile side of me to play for a bit (which I slept remarkably well through – except for when she would crawl over my head [then I slept slightly less well]). And Summer loaded a Scooby-Doo Mystery Van with an odd conglomeration of figures and drove it about.

By the time I roused myself the house was in shambles, the girls’ needed diaper changes and naps, and Summer had snuck into the basement and pulled out about fifty small bags of chips from the kids’ school lunch supplies. But! It was still raining. And now the older kids will be home soon. . . . And, if I’m lucky, I will be able to talk one of them into making pumpkin chocolate chip muffins to go with dinner!

Nicely done, fall!

Mette Mary Eats a Waffle

Very often, when this little Mette Mary is crawling rather wildly after me, or beaming at me – nearly beyond containment -- with her crinkle-nosed smile, or suddenly becoming horribly discontent with anyone else if she sees that I am nearby, or happy only if she’s in my arms, I feel . . . flattered. Honored. A little like . . . surely she must be confused!

I can’t quite believe it’s possible that this miraculous, spectacular little soul could actually prefer me above all else! It seems not quite real that all bundled in this unearthly wonder of a child there could exist such a strong and overriding desire simply to be with me; normal, ordinary, mortally-flawed me.

But . . . she does. She does prefer me above all else. By some miracle, this little girl appears to really truly love and adore me. It’s impossibly wondrous having a perfect and magical little angel who is blind to your shortcomings and just . . . unquestioningly hitches her wagon to yours with utter confidence and willingness and desire.

Dear little wished-for child. “Wished-for child”. That’s what her middle name means. It almost made me chuckle when I first discovered it because I hadn’t known I was wishing for her. In fact I very much thought my family was complete. But surely; surely, even without my knowing it, my soul has always always been wishing for her – for eternities – wishing for her. 

Switching Seasons (and a bit of chatter)

Not long ago, as we were driving home after having run some errand or other, the GPS Jesse had been fiddling with began demanding that I “turn left”.

“Jesse?” I asked. “Where’s this GPS taking us?”

“Home,” Jesse replied.

“But I don’t want to turn left,” I insisted (as “left” was the opposite direction of home).

“Well,” Jesse said thoughtfully, “it’s taking us home, . . . but I don’t know what home.”

I imagine I could work that nicely into a talk or lesson. Something similar to the old Cheshire cat’s comment about it not mattering which road you take if you don’t know where you want to go.

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Mette has recently expanded her vocabulary beyond “bock bock” (what our backyard chickens say) to include a most pleasant “Hi”. In fact, she can’t really stop hi-ing people. At the grocery store she “Hi”s everyone she sees. At first they are charmed by this cherub-like child and happily return her greeting, but, if they happen to be on the same isle with us – and not just passing – they become quickly unsure of how to handle the situation as they don’t want to ignore a small child but don’t feel completely comfortable responding to 25 “hi”s from a stranger – even if that stranger is very small. And very dear.

Luckily for her, I am in love enough with her little, sweet (and slightly raspy) hellos to respond back all the day long.

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We are in the middle of switching seasons around here. Still wearing shorts and flip-flops, but occasionally lighting our “Autumn Wreath” Yankee candle and noticing the red at the very tippy tops of our backyard maples. We haven’t quite abandoned summer but are starting to embrace a bit of fall – and the contrast of the lasts of one with the firsts of the other is rather lovely. Yesterday we spent the evening swimming at the home of a neighbor. Swimming. Summer. Then we all came home feeling so cold that I put snuggly, long-sleeved jammies on Summer (the person) and Mette, and made everyone hot-cocoa before bed. Fall. The kids are already nearing the end of their third week of school (and the panic I felt over the looming task of re-figuring schedules and homework and life with folders and backpacks and assignments and agendas has mostly worked its way out simply by . . . each day happening). Then today I bought a very summery-looking watermelon at the store – all the while recognizing that it very well might be the last watermelon I would buy this year. (Though, I may have to find just one more. . . . Upon arriving home, I attempted to carry three jugs of laundry detergent into the house at the same time as the watermelon and . . . a small catastrophe occurred. Weep.) (I don’t know how I feel about putting something in parentheses right after having used parentheses. Eek. But I needed to add something very side-note-ish about feeling uncomfortable about my use of the word “jug” to describe a container of laundry detergent. But it wasn’t a box. It was liquid. What should I call it? Should I have just said “container”? Is there a better option?)

Anyway, with summer fading out, I’ll end with a last few pictures from the season – starting with this one of Jesse that gives you a proper feel for how we looked and felt pretty much every time we went outside for adventures while we were in Georgia. I should clarify that the beach always felt breezy and nice. But the rest of the time? This first pic:

This Baby

It was in Georgia – late at nights or very early in the mornings (when I was quiet and still) that I first began to feel his little kicks. I love that, at the beginning, if you are lucky enough to feel them at all, it will only be at a time when you are hushed and free from the daily motion and busyness that might distract you from the awe of it or allow you to somehow overlook its miraculousness. I never can imagine it once I’m no longer pregnant, and I’m always wide-eyed and amazed when I am first certain it’s what I’m feeling with a new pregnancy. I don’t know that I ever fully grasp that a new soul is truly on their way before that point.

I feel like I am constantly trying to grasp something about this little boy. Anything really. Just more. I feel those little kicks (I’m even feeling them now, in all their growing strength, as I sit here typing about him) and I want to have concrete information to think on. I use the word “him” and it feels so specific. I know it isn’t just . . . a boy in some generic way. It’s, . . . well, . . . it’s HIM. And I want so much to spend time thinking about him and pondering on our relationship and remembering. Goodness, I want to remember so desperately. And I want to know what’s ahead. Not just who he was, but who he’ll be. But, . . . I’m left with so little information. So little to really think about. I have the few miraculous glimpses that lead me to this point –– and truly, they are. I know that Mike and I have been connected to this spirit since long before coming here. I know that, for some reason, it matters that his life is intertwined with ours; that part of his plan – and our plan – included him here with us and his siblings -- experiencing whatever that will make possible for each of us. But I don’t know exactly why. And I want to so much. I feel certain things. Sense them? I feel a strong love for him that feels . . . like it is being uncovered rather than just developing. And yet, it is developing too. It is growing stronger, and I think partly that’s because I feel teary gratitude to him. I can’t explain this really. Only I have this strong impression of . . . loyalty. Is that what it is? There aren’t right words for some of these things, but something like that. Loyalty and certainty. Faith. I feel like . . . he hasn’t doubted or questioned or given up on me and Mike keeping our promises. That he has been close and determined even when I was unsure and crying and thinking I couldn’t possibly have any more babies. I’ve felt him close to me several times this past two years and I always feel strength and patience from him. But there is not a lot more. And it is hard to be patient for an entire life to play out before knowing it all! And this pregnancy is so tied up with the pregnancies and births of Summer and Mette that all three of them are a blur and even difficult to separate at times – just as I’m sure their newborn phases will be in a few years time. It’s all a little overwhelming – wanting to know and have so much more, yet having trouble even clearly keeping track of what I do have!

But, I will just try to still myself. There are lots of important things to experience ahead. Some of them will be hard and some amazing, but I suppose I can’t just have them unless I am willing to . . . live them first.

In the meantime, a little living and gathering experiences and knowledge continues to be going on already!