The Final Dregs

It blows my mind how quickly my mind defeats me! Moving has got to be one of the tougher things in this crazy life. Not toughest, I'd put childbirth, losing someone you love, and fighting with a family member on the toughest list. Back to moving. We strive to find a home, finally land in one, get our stuff unpacked. Put 100 holes in the wall to display all the pictures that'll make it seem homey. We arrange and rearrange the furniture. We fill the fridge and pantry with the essentials. Flare up the oven and bake a familiar dish.  Then somewhere between week 4 and 10 the house is finally feeling like home.

It's so nice to be home. Isn't it?

But then, it's time to move. Again. I just happen to be pregnant again. Well, I'm frequently pregnant, but I happen to be largely pregnant and in my 3rd trimester again. This would be round 3 of this late pregnancy moving business. Oh yes, big, hot, round, freckled and hairy. Add those to the woes. Trying to take everything down from the walls, filling the holes with spackle, cursing myself for ever having put a thing up on the walls to begin with. Sanding the spackling, re-spackling, sanding. Digging through the dark places of the rental to find the paint that you're praying the owners have on hand. Finding the paint, applying it. Then digging up the glaze because one coat of one color just isn't enough. The glaze is all but gone. Get Acetone from the pedicure box and add a half a cap hoping this will dilute the thick sticky glaze into something workable. Crud! The paint doesn't look right. In fact it looks terrible!! That's because you've picked the wrong base color. Dig some more, despair a little, get rescued by a blonde haired, freckle faced, girl who happens to pick up the 15 gallon bucket and find the right base shade. Thank you Lord! Repaint, take a nap. Ahhhhhhh. Time to get that forsaken glaze back out and add another half cap of acetone. We are in business. Stop cursing yourself for putting holes in the wall. It's okay now. It's okay. It's ok.

Now for the game room downstairs. Where the kids ate pizza on Friday nights and occasionally smeared things on the wall. Gonna have to take down the posters, pennants, pictures, and puzzles. It'll be okay soon. It'll be okay. It will be ok!

B. J.

Maybe some folks are curious how the pregnancy is trekking along.. It's going fabulous! Baby B.J. is an active little soul. With lots of kicks and punches daily I arise and tuck myself in to the beating of this little drum. I am reminded again and again of the beauty of life in the womb. I am overcome with humbleness that I get to have another baby.

This pregnancy like all of them has had its phases. From the initial shock that we were expecting.. trust me, we know how this happens, to the hugging of the toilet bowl.. some things do grow old, to the cuteness of a little belly.. there's nothing like gazing down at ones mid-drift and knowing that bulge isn't a food baby, to the enormity of your tummy at the 3rd trimester.. I am overcome again!

I have scheduled an induction for little B.J. and that induction will take place on August 27th. I am both excited and of course, nervous. We are downsizing and are going to be moving into a new home in a couple of weeks. The location of our move will probably have us an hour from the hospital and we just can't risk another car baby. ;). Trust me, I love spontaneous labors. They are the best. However, God made me unique, as He did all his peoples and I labor unusually fast!

So there is a little update on me and B.J.

Samuel turned 4! (I'm so late in posting)

Samuel is 4 now. The little lad keeps me on my toes. He is a delight. He is talking a bit behind is peer group. He has broken more bones than most kids in his peer group and more than anyone else in the house. He's had 2 root canals, a record for the Reynolds household as far as the kids go. He's eyes are still electric blue. He vows that when the baby is born no bees will hurt the baby. If the bees do hurt the baby, he will kill the bees and then feed the baby ice-cream. He absolutely adores his mommy and daddy. He waits for Jake to come driving up our acreage and then hops in the car for a ride. He sits beside me in the quiet times of the day and pats my tummy and tells me how he loves me. He is an amazing little boy. 

Every bit of effort and labor to bring this little man into the world would be happily repeated over and over by his momma. It is such a privilege to know our Samuel. I'm so glad God fashioned him just the way He did and that Jake and I get the privilege of calling him son. 

Happy, happy birthday, Samuel. May you have many more feasting days of celebration in our home. May the Lord deal kindly with you. May you respond with fear, trembling, and joy before Him. We love you little man!

The dynamic duo charge the ram. Hazel insisted on being blind-folded. 

Cruzer is done and Samuel's just begun.

Absolutely cracked up at the responses of the kids when Colby whacked the ram their way!

Ahh, Jake.

The complete cowboy package for his gift.

Could his expression be any more priceless?

There was success!

Jackie's Spring Ballet Photos

Jackie trained hard through the Spring and participated in the End of Year Ballet performance of Cinderella. The show was wonderful. We all thoroughly enjoyed watching her as a, "Fall Fairy."

We set up a make-shift studio outback of our home before the performance and took some really fun pictures. 

For your enjoyment:

It's about.. ahem.. Love

I read a really good post about Love over at Femina this week. Not just about Love, but about Conjugal Love.

Yes, my kids read our family blog and the ones who linger over it's pages are learning to understand what Love is. It takes on many forms. From the sweeping of floors, disciplining of bottoms, massaging of tired feet, the marriage bed, to the most perfect act of Love demonstrated in dying for all people!

So, without further ado: Conjugal Love by Nancy Wilson

Glad to be able to share this link with such a mature audience. :)

Traditions, Failure, Trying to Make it Perfect, and oh yes, Love!

Look, the table is perfect. Except not a soul is there. 

I remember when my biggies; Colby, Jackie, Benjamin, and Louisa were little. I was fixated on traditions and trying to make each holiday, each Sunday, each day, perfect. I would stress about the things that I was sure they would remember. Every occasion where I didn't have things just perfect I viewed as a fail.

You see, I was busy changing diapers. I was preoccupied with figuring out who unrolled every single roll of toilet paper in the house. I couldn't decide who should be spanked first for the dozen cookies that were eaten after I had said 'all done.' I was unsure who took Jake's ______ (fill in the blank) and tried to flush it down the toilet. I spent my days picking up endless messes. Toiling over the floors because they weren't mopped right. Dusting off the few pieces of furniture we owned. I would scrub toilets endlessly because I never knew who was going to a have tea party with the toilet water next. Ahh, yes. I was busy mothering. Then of course there was the wifing. Wifing came first, well at least it was supposed to. I can remember knowing what I was supposed to do, going through the motions, but really failing all the time. Even my best efforts would be scrutinized by my number one judge at the end of the day (me).

It's actually a small miracle I made it through the beginning years of mothering and marriage in one piece and with a happy marriage. Thanks be to God. I know He was the glue that held it all together. The traditions would still catch me though. I read books and was desperately aiming to be sure that my Thanksgiving table looked just like Martha Stewarts. Yet, it was hard to make that happen. My plates were all chipped by this point. They'd been the cheap ones from Target off from my wedding registry. The silverware, you know the type, they had the plastic handles that were dried up and had the 'been through the dishwasher too many times' look about them. The serving platters weren't quite platters. They were mismatched pieces from here and there and often food was served right out of the pan, GASP! While I would sit at the table rather disgruntled my family never cared. The 'umm good, yummy momma' expression was always on their faces. My husbands adoring eyes were always filled with thankfulness. He knew I strived hard and appreciated all of my efforts.

I was my own worst enemy. I think many of us women are. We beat ourselves down and compare ourselves to our neighbor or worse.. to a picture in a magazine. I've come to realize that I spent much of my time grasping after the wind and missing the larger, greater picture. The picture of my littles and my man gathered around at table. Giggling, eating, kids falling out of their seats because of crazy growth spurts, eating, having mashed potatoes tossed my direction by a baby (who, mind you, is no longer a baby), eating, sipping wine, and eating. My table was perfect. My decorations were crooked and wrinkled by well loved hands.

I'm thankful to enjoy a prettier table now. But guess what? I don't get the glory from having set it. That glory would belong to one of my daughters. Daughters who used to be littles, but now have the extra moments to make the table just right and I can manage the dinner. Daughters who grew from diapers to bloomers to dresses and gowns way too fast. I think my table is just as lovely as it's ever been, but the spectator has changed. My eyes are starting to pick up wrinkles here and there and they're starting to see that perhaps they were way to scrutinizing of life at its' beginning familial stages.

When we sit at the table I see that perhaps the girls fret because everything isn't just perfect. But you know what? It is perfect. It's better than Martha Stewarts' latest spread. That's because it's home. That's because the Lord is there. That's because I'm surrounded by the people who I love the most and who love me the most.

Conquered by Love.

Since Easter, our life has been a whirlwind. We all ended up down with the flu, except Samuel. Something about being a grubby little boy keeps you from the real germs I suppose. The flu grabbed ahold of me in a nasty way. It'd been a while since I'd been so ill. Fever for days, terrible body aches, and coughing spasms that produced blood. Gag me! I'm ever so thankful to be well again. While I was down the loves loved me much. The kids cooked, looked after each other, drew me pictures, wrote sweet notes and kept my juice glass full. It was quite humbling.

Upon feeling better, my husband, the love conquering machine, took 7 days off work. His hard earned leave time to be sure and he sent me far South. It's the 2nd time I've made the journey to Mexico. This time I was traveling a la carte.. is that allowed off the menu? Anyway, I was solo, well almost solo. Last year Hazel came with me. This year the 9th baby, lovingly coined B.J., traveled with me. The two of us spent precious time with my dear mom down in Cabo San Lucas. We had so much fun. I relaxed and recovered from the lingering side effects of my flu. It was such a sweet time!

While I was away Jake ran the kids around and made the 15 scheduled appts. already in place on the family calendar. He cared for the wee-est of the bunch. He took apart Humpty Dumpty (our big red van). Then he put it back together again with some much needed new parts saving us more that $1000. He cooked, budgeted, did laundry, cleaned, etc., etc., etc. Need I say more? He was amazing.

I missed my connecting flight home from Houston (we had a problem..) to D.C. Sooooo, he arrived joyfully last Wednesday at the airport to retrieve me and my baggage. There's always a lot of baggage with me. From a sinful heart to a 25 pound molcajete. That night, Wednesday, my sweet family put together a wonderful birthday for me. Complete with lobster, corn on the cob, french fries, fine white wine,  homemade dinner rolls, pizzas, and an Ina Garten chocolatey coffee frosted cake. Go ahead, smack me through the screen. I am spoiled. I won't go into the gifts lest I seem like a complete brat.

I will just say that my heart was absolutely conquered by the love that my family smothered me with. I am theirs, they are mine. I am blessed beyond any measure. Not just because of the people God has put here with me, but because of God's great love for us!