May 29, 2014 by Jolene

J-E-S-U-S

Today, Corin greeted Lina’s physical therapist in the following way:

“Hi. I’m Jesus.”

This is the theme of his latest flights of fancy. I allow this to continue, because I figure there is no one better to emulate. I tried to explain that he might not want to go around telling other people he’s Jesus, but you see how much traction I’ve gotten. On the up side, he can also spell and sign the name of Jesus.

If my son should approach you and introduce himself as Jesus, please don’t judge us as blasphemers. I’m 90% sure it won’t be a permanent delusion.

P.S. Today’s therapy visit also included an incident in which Corin observed a family with three boys and then loudly asked, “Who would want three kids?” Clearly, I need to find new ways to keep my son busy in the waiting area.

May 26, 2014 by Jolene

Sun-drenched gratitude

Right now in our kitchen, Jon is churning a batch of roasted strawberry-buttermilk ice cream. (Note: I started this post hours ago. We have since made quite a dent in the finished batch.) It’s a Jeni’s recipe. If you are not in one of the six cities with a Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams, I am sorry. If you are and haven’t been, go. Now. We picked the strawberries fresh this morning at Bottom View Farm. (Actually, everyone else picked the strawberries while I sat in the car with a sleeping Lina.) Fresh picked strawberries are one of the great delights of spring in this area.

It’s been a fantastic weekend, packed with gatherings of friends and family and lots of time outdoors. Jon even took an actual holiday today. This morning started with rain showers but cleared in time for our berry picking, and I had a moment to marvel at sun-drenched fields. It made me feel suddenly sad on this Memorial Day for the way-too-many who didn’t make it back from hideous wars far from home. In my own family, we are missing Uncle Donald, my mom’s brother, who died in Vietnam. I don’t often think about those sacrifices, but today, I am grateful.

May 19, 2014 by Jolene

“Life in the fast lane”

That tune is running through my head as I type.

It’s a crazy time around here. We had a contract on our house. It fell through a month in. We had a contract on a new house. It fell through, too. Now we have a contract on another new house, which is a story in itself. It’s on three acres. I will undoubtedly be writing a soliloquy to our new home once it’s, you know, actually ours. That should be sometime around June 16. Our current home is on the market again, and I am slightly antsy but mostly calm about getting it sold, because God has reminded me that He can do anything.

I am really tired, because having to whip your house into spotless condition before walking out the door every day is totally exhausting. I knew there was a reason I didn’t bother with such things before. Also, I pick toys up, move on to the next room, and turn around to find the room I just cleaned looking like Godzilla came through. That’s actually what Corin calls Lina: “Little Godzilla.” He may have picked that up from me.

Also, I have over the past two weeks been visited by randomly appearing patches of poison ivy. The old ones don’t go away, and new ones keep popping up. (That’s what I get for finally clearing the poison ivy off the stump in the back yard.) I took myself yesterday to The Little Clinic at our local Kroger, where I was prescribed an antibiotic ointment and a pack of steroids, which could cause “jitteriness, irritability, increased appetite and trouble sleeping.” Incidentally, those are also the exact side effects of selling a home and buying a new one.

My kids are as infuriating and amazing as ever, and growing faster than I can fathom. Lina is making big strides with her communication. It’s hard for me to be patient on that one, but there is such joy when she is hungry and signs, “eat,” or wants to repeat a game with daddy and signs, “more.” She’s cruising with increasing proficiency and has even made strides toward drinking from a cup. Corin is beginning, with some help, to read simple words and sentences. He’s gotten pretty good on his balance bike. He’s 40 inches tall, which I know because we marked it on the laundry room wall – another spot I’ll be awfully sad to leave behind in our move. He’s going through intermittent clingy stages, which is why I’m currently typing as he hangs on my back and tries to smear my glasses.

Our barely-controlled chaos will likely progress to full-on chaos as soon as this house sells and the real packing begins, but we’re taking it one day at a time and feeling very thankful for the opportunities opening up for us. Count on this: As soon as we get moved and settled in, you’ll be welcome to come visit and let your kids run wild with ours in the woods. Related: Anyone have tips for non-toxic tick prevention?