The Sunday Routine That (for once) Wasn't Routine: WIWS

Happy Sunday! I am proud to announce that this is the first Sunday in 13 years that the getting ready for Mass routine was {pretty} smooth sailing. And, by that, I mean the following:

1. No one yelled from the rafters, "Mom, I can't find my ________________ (insert lost item).

2. No one bled on their freshly washed and pressed Sunday duds (because Sunday has somehow become scab removal day or "let's wrestle near sharp pointed objects" day).

3. All accessories remained in tact in the dressy duds application process. (Belts are designated weapons until securely buckled around the waist and, therefore, we break at least one each week. I so wish suspenders were in!)

4.  All shirt sleeves remained clean and snot-less (we are a high allergy household still in training mode when it comes to the fine art of using a Kleenex).  Training boys in the area of good hygiene requires strong constitution and a well-stocked liquor cabinet.  Just sayin'.

(There's actually 17 items on my list, but since it's Sunday, I'll just leave you with the Cliff's Notes version of the chaos, because really, you should be napping, or golfing or reading something more exciting than this!)

(Charlie struts into my room every single Sunday and asks, "Am I handsome, Mom?" Then, it's "Would you like to comb my hair, please?" I absolutely love the stage he's in!)

Every Sunday, our routine is pretty much the same.  I get up an hour before everyone else, prep and lay out the boys' clothes and enjoy a few moments of quiet before the morning storm comes rollin' in. The moment the troops come thundering up the stairs, there's no turning back, it's Craziville all the way up to the church doors.

It wasn't until we arrived at Mass that I realized we actually managed to assemble ourselves today without the usual disasters (see item's #1 - #4).  And, AND to top it off, Steve always makes the coffee on Sunday mornings and it's my favorite cup of the week, because he delivers it to me with a kiss while I'm trying my best to look lovely for him! If I knew how to type those cute little heart symbols, I would cover this page with lots of them just so you would know how much I love him. I'm a lousy hashtagger too. So, I love him, a lot, and that's that.

With a baby soon to make his/her appearance any day now, I know that this flawless routine we managed to pull off this morning will more than likely go down in a flamin' blaze of glory. But, until then, I'm going to relish every ounce of parental success I'm feeling today, which just so happens to make all of the swelling and sciatic pain much more manageable!

A few weeks have passed since I've flashed ya'll a photo of le womb. I know you all want to see how outie my outie actually is don't ya?

A lady at Target actually asked I'm bothered by the (obvious) fact that my belly button is so noticeable sticking out through my shirt. To which I replied, "Well, with all of the young ladies who can't seem to find anything better to wear than shorts with an inseam that can only be measured in millimeters, I doubt anyone is too concerned with the (offensive?) state of my bellybutton." I know I'm always leaping up on my modesty soapbox and, honestly, now that my sons are growing up, I'm even more passionate about the topic.

{Sigh.} Dads, please help your daughters to see and believe their worth, their dignity. Please take them shopping, and tell them with all sincerity that modesty is beautiful. Please do it for them and for all of the sons out there who need to see a girl's heart and mind first, not her skin.  

Anyhoo - here we are, 38 weeks, belly button bump and all!

Okay, the pants are a little baggy, but at this stage of the game, style plays second fiddle to comfort. 

And, nothing fits. At all. Except pajamas, which, well, aren't proper public attire, even at Wal-Mart.

Wide Leg Linen Trousers: Marshalls

Tee: Old Navy

Scarf: The Feathered Nest

Wedge Sandals: Old Navy

Earrings/Bracelet: Francescas

Main Street, Movies and More: 7 Quick Takes Friday

Yay for Friday!! Do you all have fantastic plans for the weekend? While Memorial Day means a holiday weekend for most, for those of us in the world of agriculture, it's just another date on the calendar.  Which means with Steve traveling back and forth from the farm, I'll be finding something else that needs to be cleaned or organized in la casa or bouncing on my birthing ball with the hopes of speeding up this baby's arrival. Good times! To all the non-farmers out there, I'll be checking your Facebook updates for BBQ and beach pics!

In the mean time, how about a little 7 Quick Takes??...

1. Kick Ball With a Kicker

The neighbors have all informed us that we are so lucky because we have such a big back yard. We nod and smile between gritted teeth, trying not to reveal how much we hate fences, longing deeply to wake up in an abode perched on the wide open spaces of the country. I know I should be thankful for our yard, and really, after loving life on the farm, the boys are doing a great job of making the best of their contained space.  They rotate from basketball to trampolining to kick-ball, which is their current fave.

With the temps rising near 100 this week, the poor things *ahem* were wilting under the sun. After running in and out of the house a thousand times, begging for lemonade and flailing their pathetic bodies over the air conditioner vents in agony, I preached the "toughen up" speech to them (which may have included a few lines about them never having to be pregnant) and kicked them out into the great inferno for the last time.

Their "manly" solution to the situation was filling an old Rubbermaid container up with water so they could dunk their heads in it after rounding home plate.  Watching them enjoy their refreshing ritual, Steve and I were in stitches, completely entertained by the dramatic testosterone fest unfolding in the back yard.

Heat warriors they were, proclaiming victory over the sun with fine displays of grunting, fist pumps and chest bumps, their torso's completely soaked with grit and glory. I love being a boy mom, I really do!!

2. Library, Liquor Store, Local Cafe

Some people might shirk small town living, but I say don't knock it 'till you've lived it.  Although our town my appear a tad tiny, it's big on the important things: family, faith, friendship and fight (our boys are loving playing sports here!). Our main street boasts the most important necessities: a post office, two salons, one cafe, a liquor store and a library.  

I love the library.  The library loves us, because we multiply the literary population exponentially whenever we visit, and we keep their coffers clanging with the payment of over-due fees and fines for "accidental" losses.  Charlie is especially happy when we stop in, he never wants to leave.  I love the way he slides his finger across the pages while mouthing made up words pretending to read.

Yesterday, after the librarian asked, "You want to check out all of these???" I considered borrowing a dolly from the guy next door who was unloading the Bud Light truck at the sanity store, but opted to tote our good reads home in the stroller while Charlie rode on Andrew's shoulders. That's what big strong brothers are for!

3. God's Not Dead

I've been craving some one-on-one time with the boys before becoming a permanent nursing fixture on the couch for the next 6 months.  Ben and Andrew had been asking to see the movie God's Not Dead, so we went together, then spent some time discussing the flick over delicious barrels of Orange Leaf frozen yogurt.

I really do love all of the variety of ages we have dwelling at home right now.  But, I must say, I'm especially enjoying the insightful conversations Steve and I get to engage in with the older boys. They teach us so much! This stage of parenting is really beautiful.

We ended our "date" night with a visit to our Lord at the adoration chapel.  It was a truly special evening, one I will treasure for years to come.

4. Unbroken

If you haven't read Laura Hillenbrand's book, Unbroken, you must get yourself a copy.  It's on my top 10 list of favorite books.  This week I also discovered that it's being made into a movie which is scheduled to be released around Christmas. Yippeee!!  

5. Bets on the Birth Date

Anyone want to chime in on when you think our little one will arrive?? Personally, I'm feeling June 5th.  Not sure why that's the day that's stuck in my mind, but I'm goin' with it.  Earlier this week at my pre-natal check, my doc surprised me by asking me how I felt about waiting two weeks instead of one before the next appointment. I about fell off the table.  

You've got this, kid. His exact words.  Nothing makes a near-forty woman feel fabulous faster than being called a kid. For insurance purposes, I did schedule an appointment for two weeks down the road, but I'm hoping that it's one I don't have to keep!

6.  Who Are You???

I hate to admit it, but this quote is all too true for us.  We're still debating names.  Steve's #1 just isn't going to happen.  Ever. And, I'll leave it at that. But, he's not giving in to my #1 name either due to an unresolved misfortune from the frat-house days.  So the name saga continues. We've never gone to the hospital without baby names.  The very second the baby is born, I have to be able to call him/her by name. It's a must.  But, at this point, I'm considering a game of pin the diaper on the name or the ever trusty coin flip. 

7.  Blog Post Read o' the Week:

For When You Want to Freak Out Because You Just Keep Getting Older

Ladies, read this. 

Over and out!!

Letters to the Baby From the Big Brothers

It's all baby talk around here, folks, I hope you don't mind! I can't seem to think about anything else, as life is fully focused around preparations for his/her arrival.  Just yesterday, as the boys and I were sitting around the table at lunch time, the baby chat began again with the #1 question I get every day: how much longer do we have to wait before the baby is born??

One question led to another and another (including per usual the how will it come out? from Henry which is always a fun one to explain to a 6 year old) and somehow we tripped into a conversation regarding our family life as we now know it, and how much of our lives the baby will have no understanding of. All of the adventures we've shared, memories we've made, traditions we enjoy like birthday breakfast and meaningful holiday delights, sporting accomplishments, family vacations - the list goes on - are all familiar life to us, a life that will need to be remembered and shared in detail with this baby as it grows.

Benedict even mentioned that by the time the baby is old enough to truly get to know him, he'll be leaving home for college.

This very thought was a stunner for me.

Allowing my mind to travel into the future means that my heart always tags along, and I don't like to go there. I prefer to stay here, right here in the present.  I'm always wrestling with the swiftness of the passage of time anyway, trying to slow the getaway train down, but this, this age gap between our children hit me hard. I deeply desire for all of them to have as much time together as possible, to make memories, to build lasting friendships, to lock arms and never let go.

Our lunch chat sparked a little idea in me.  I waddled into the office, grabbed some paper and pencils and asked the boys to write a letter to the baby.  The purpose of the letter is to tell the new sibling about yourself, perhaps about the family he/she is joining, about how you felt the day we told you a new life would soon be joining our family....

We decided we would put the letters in an envelope and share them with the baby when he/she is old enough to read them.  My expectation for long, thoughtful letters full of drawings and coloring and glitter was non-existent. I've got boys here! My only hope was for some glimpse of their hearts to be woven into their non-detailed script of practicals.

To my surprise, they actually responded to the idea enthusiastically! Their letters were quite charming, some only a few lines, a couple of them, nearly a full page long!  I won't share everything they wrote, but here's just a few little snippets of what each child wrote (except for Charlie who was interviewed by mommy):

Charlie (3) - The Entertainer:
Are you excited to meet the baby?
Yes, yes, I am! I will sing to the baby!
What will you sing?
(In his very best melodic voice) Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh, chubby little tummy all stuffed with huu-neeeee, Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh, willy-nilly-silly ol' beeeear!

Henry (6) - The Smotherer:
Dear Baby - I love you! I bet I have already hugged you at least 100 times.  Are you a boy or a girl?  When you are born I will hug you some more.  I hope you are a boy.  I knew you were alive and real when I felt you kick in mommy's tummy.

George (9) - The Librarian:
Dear Baby - I cannot wait to read you stories, because when Charlie was born I read him so many books.  Then, when we heard we were having you, I wanted to read you so many stories too.  It doesn't matter if you are a boy or a girl, you are still very special to me!

Andrew (11) - The Coach:
Dear Buba - This is your brother, Andrew.  At first I didn't know what to say when I heard we were having a new sibling in our family.  I've already lived 11 years of my life, so I am a lot older than you.  In 2014 I took 2nd place in the state wrestling tournament.  That is the year you were born!  Henry, Charlie, George and Ben are our brothers and are all good at sports.  Before I go, I want to let you know that it is going to be great having you in our family!

Benedict (13) - The Leader of the Pack:
Dear Baby - Hello, I am your oldest brother, Ben.  When mom told us that we were having a baby, I was already 12 years old and very overjoyed, and also a hint of sad because I knew it would be another 5,000 dirty diapers to change.  Oh, well, I guess it's not that bad.  From day 1, we have been waiting impatiently for the new baby to come into the Husband family.  By the time you are my age, I will be out of college and married.  Don't worry, though, I will try to come home from college as often as I can to see you.

5 Letters, signed sealed and waiting to be delivered!

When Home Calls - The Little "Before Baby" Getaway

The 9 month journey through pregnancy is filled with a great variety of emotions.  Some feelings spark unexpectedly within us only to fade away as quickly as they are felt.  Others, rise up then settle in down deep, stirring steady like an undercurrent, and those are the feelings that must be attended to.

I can't explain this desire I have had for the past couple of months to go away.  Not on a big vacation (although I love to travel and can't wait to take the family on an adventure soon) just a little jaunt somewhere easy, familiar, uplifting.

Home.  That's where I wanted to go.  Home.

"No traveling after this week. I want you to stick around, okay?"

Those were the doctor's orders last week during my routine pre-natal appointment. Right away, I knew that this would be my last chance to go anywhere within reasonable distance before the birth.  Leaving the clinic, I called Steve and asked if we could head north for the weekend to visit my family.

I am so happy he said yes.

{Peyton Jean, the girl who's not afraid to keep up with the boys!}

Going home is all about family.  It's the familiar things that I look forward to the most: good food and good conversations, easy evenings of story telling over glasses of wine, cousins camping out in the basement or running wild over every inch of acreage, and little jaunts back and forth from the place we call the farm, the homestead where my dad grew up, the place where my brother, Scott, and his family now live.

{My younger brother, Scott, his wife, Stephanie, and their daughter, Phebe.}

On Sunday evening, Scott's wife, Stephanie, fixed a feast for all of us to enjoy out at their pond. 

While the adults sat and savored BBQ sandwiches and ranch potatoes, our boys, along with their two sweet cousins, Peyton and Phebe, found more exciting adventures in the water.

Henry and Peyton became the mud runners.  They ran endless laps around the little lake, laughing as they leaped along through the cool, squishy mud - mud that climbed across their little toes, past the ankles and up to the knees.  Is there anything better than the heart of a child, delighting in the outdoors, innocent and free??

Beside the pond lie an old flat bottom boat.  A boat without oars.  It was only a matter of time before someone decided that boat belonged in the water.  It's in the nature of a boy to not only seek out adventure, but to recognize a challenge and to do everything in his power to conquer it.

Without hesitation the older boys shoved off into the shallow waters, trying with all their might to steer the rig across the pond against the current, using planks of wood they found in the wild brush.

To their great disappointment, all of their energy advanced them only a few feet beyond the starting point.  Unwilling to give up, Ben and Andrew muscled the boat around the perimeter of the pond up to a spot where the current would help carry them back down to our camp.  

Uncle Scott, such the boy scout, jumped on the four wheeler, lending a little steam to the situation.  They were quite the sight, gliding along the green banks behind the hum of help!

George discovered three sections of pvc pipe in a stock tank by the windmill - brand new oars for everyone.

Veni, vidi, vici! We came, we saw, we conquered!!

Then, there was Charlie and Phebe.  The two gentle spirits became quite the duo over the weekend...

Contentedly perched in their lawn chairs, we kept referring to them as the geriatrics.

So, ya wanna go cool our bunions in the lake?

Can't you just imagine them one day, old but sassy, sitting on the porch, sipping iced tea, strolling down memory lane together? I'm still smiling just thinking about the sweet pair!

With the sun tucked down beneath the trees, we said our good-byes and, pulling away from the farm, I grabbed Steve's hand, happy, content, thankful, peaceful.

*Sigh* Okay, honey, I'm ready to have the baby now.

Feeling Loved All Year Long - The Best Mother's Day Gift

Do you remember your very first Mother's Day? I sure do! I'll never forget feeling as though I had become a member of a club, a part of a grand group of people who were being celebrated for an entire day, a day filled with honor and recognition. Special doesn't even begin to describe how I felt!  For the past 13 years, Steve and the boys have showered me with cards and little gifts to show their appreciation for me, and I genuinely look forward to their sweet gestures with each approaching Mother's Day.

{The photographer snapped 9 posed pics, but true to form, we could not manage one with all eyes open!  Oh, well, they're cute with eyes closed, anyway, aren't they??}

Over the past few years, however, my personal perspective on Mother's Day has shifted significantly.  It is no longer a celebration that is about me, but rather one that is an opportunity for me to examine more deeply the gifts and graces of being called into the vocation of motherhood, and through that examination to be ever more grateful to God for the gift of my children.

As I was visiting with Steve's mom about our plans for Mother's Day, I simply told her that we had no plans at all.  We had been so busy working on the garage sale, school projects, cleaning up the yard and closets and carpets in preparation for baby, the topic of Mother's Day never entered into our conversations.  

"You know," I said, "If we don't do anything at all, I really am okay with that, because, the truth is, I feel loved all year long."

Really, that feeling loved statement isn't rooted at all in what the boys do for me or what they give to me in the way of material goods, it's simply a personal awareness that I have of their daily presence in my life.  

When I slow down during the day and notice the boy who:

- enthusiastically calls my name because he can't wait to show me what he's made

- climbs on my lap because it's the best place in the world to perch, even if only for a moment

- fills his cheeks with a warm bite of baking, because he's been waiting all afternoon to be nourished

- hugs me goodnight, every single night, because he thinks of me before heading to bed

- wants to sit on my hip while I cruise around the kitchen, because watching me cook is better than playing with his toys

- rescues me, pregnant round, struggling to wipe up messes from the floor by gently taking taking the cloth from my hand

- changes a diaper, washes the muddy feet of a younger brother, or reads quietly so that I can rest, I FEEL LOVED.

It's up to me to see our children loving me through who they are every day, to feel God loving me as well in the the ordinary days of being a mom  It's up to me to see the extraordinary in it all, to savor it and to let it be the very sustenance that fuels me through the more difficult times, the times when I'm tempted to believe that life is a little too hard, the times when I feel outnumbered in a household full of boys, when I long to have a little girl with whom I can relate to, enjoy girlie projects and adventures with, or when I wonder in my bouts of loneliness why in the world God chose me to be the mother of boys.

Last Saturday, after packing up the remnants from the garage sale, Steve and the boys came over to help load up the donations. When we finally came home, I was really tired, but had mentally prepared myself for the reality that after a crazy week, I had left the house that morning in a state of utter disaster. While nothing sounded more delightful than a quiet nap, I knew it just wasn't possible and that it was time to answer the call to clean.

The moment I walked in the door, I knew instantly that something was different.  The stale smell of dirty dishes and sticky floors had disappeared.  The carpets were no longer covered with toys and games, with shoes carelessly scattered about, and the bits of laundry that failed to get folded, hanging all week long off of furniture here and there, had disappeared.  Everything, I mean ev-e-ry-thing was neat and tidy.  My eyes nearly popped out of my head with wonder!

For a split second, there was complete silence.  All eyes were on me, waiting anxiously to see if I would notice their gift - a Saturday morning spent, not golfing or watching cartoons but scrubbing down a house that needed so badly to be bathed. And, they did it for me, just for me! Oh, how they know my heart! I wish I had a picture of their sweet faces the very second they saw me burst into tears of joy.  Filled with sheer delight, I couldn't stop proclaiming over and over, "Thank you, oh, thank you, it's just so beautiful!!" Their smiles were HUGE!! Through their happy little eyes, I could see straight into their souls - they knew they had done something truly wonderful for me, and they were proud of themselves.

I have been working so hard over the past year on teaching the boys the value of the gift of generosity.  Of course, they are boys and because they are also children, they struggle to exercise the virtue of generosity with one another.  "That's not mine, so I'm not going to pick it up." or "I had it first, so it's mine." I hear those words all day long. Many of you moms know, as I do, that generosity is giving without counting the cost, and that daily call to give never ends when you're a mother. But, at the same time, there's a special joy that can be experienced in the practice of generosity, especially the sacrificial kind. It truly can be so deeply rewarding.  I want the boys to experience that joy, and I think they may have tasted it for themselves in shining up the house for me last weekend.

On Sunday,  I was ordered to put my feet up while the chefs prepared brunch.  It was just lovely! Wanting to keep everything a surprise, I was sent to my room, so as not to know exactly what was going on in the kitchen.  I got so tickled, though, at how each boy (including dad) took turns knocking on the door, needing to ask me a questions about how long to cook the bacon, or what kind of flour to use in the pancakes. 

Henry, who has recently learned how to make an egg in the microwave, thoughtfully prepared this scrumptious appetizer for me:

He was so proud of himself! He loves to circle the block on his bike each day, picking blooming weeds along the way to bring home just for me.  From his vast travels, he must have known exactly where to go to find the purple one in the picture!  Complete sweetness!! Those were the best eggs I'd ever eaten!

 "Mom, it's ready!!" they sang out over the clanging in the kitchen.  I came out to find each one of them standing around a table they had so proudly set, complete with linens, flowers and fresh coffee.

The cards on my plate were such a gift.  They know how much I love written notes.  I've saved every single sweet thing they've ever composed for me.  Steve must have taken the boys card shopping earlier in the week.  Each of their selections had glitter, ribbons or jewels on them, which was just so precious.

Because they are boys and are so very young, I don't expect them to write very much.  The little one-liners are just perfect.  But, this year, I was really touched by Ben's card.  His thoughtfulness meant the world to me! Inside the card read:

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

Thank you for being the best mother in the world. 

Thank you for being gentle and sweet and helping me with homework, doing the laundry, and cooking those spectacular meals for us boys.

I hope you have a blessed Mother's Day!

Love, Ben

Do you have a special Mother's Day memory you would like to share??

I would love to hear it! 

Please feel free to write about in the comments!