Life continues to be full of fun moments that my pregnant bod pays for later. This was a good one! I mean, they’re all something to be thankful for. I’m so glad that I can participate in so many fun things even though I’m 9 months pregnant. The Ugly Sweater Party for our church was a perfect event. Bring the kids, get a good meal, be goofy with friends, play pictionary with Christmas Carols, get a “prom shot” of your fam. We are well documented this season gotta say! This shot is of Justin and Laura, the couple that borrowed our kids for a weekend while Joel and I escaped to Helen GA. They look like they can handle my two monkeys don’t they! I LOVED Laura’s get-up, I think I would have worn that to school when I was 17. Maybe I did. Seriously, can anyone else testify to that!
I’ve been waking up each morning pushing back the thought that I may go into labor soon. I feel big, Tessa feels big, the weeks go by and I just keep truckin’. Today I wore myself out with a great night out, followed by a 3am wet-the-bed announcement, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. Joel let me rest for a while this morning, which is so nice, but I filled it with reading that book, reminding myself of all the steps. Wise? I dunno. I promised my kids, and my art students that cookies would be in order for them. So with Josiah and Eden chomping at the bit to make just one more triceritops spice cookie, (what about the tree guys? or the star? or the candy canes? nope, dinosaurs)I kicked it into high gear and made cookies until lunch time. I then was able to indulge in my heat therapy/shower. I felt like a wrung out rag.
My boy is such a boy, and I love it when he strikes ninja poses for photos, wrestles with his Papa and his sister (and me when I’m not so maternal), and draws super heroes blasting aliens with their pink warbling laser beams. What I don’t like and need to ask God for super natural intervention every day is all the messes he makes. He has very little understanding of order. I’m sure my housekeeping style is not a great example, but Josiah is all about flinging his after school trappings everywhere despite my pleas for cooperation. I’ve threatened, rewarded, shouted and cooed and nothing works consistantly. It’s probably hopeless only in my head. But now that the holidays have struck us, along with all the dietary no-no’s, my boy has been the cause of great neurotic frustration for me. His dashes to the potty leave me cringing and barking orders. “Shut the door! Make sure you get it all out! Are you clean? Flush and Wash hands!” And my boy’s odor seems to be especially toxic. I can get rather embarassed about it. I believe that God keeps our family healthy through many supernatural exchanges, but for some reason I am a CRAZY person when it comes to Josiah’s BM’s. There can be a nightmare waiting in the bathroom for me some days. Joel wonders if his diet needs to change. It occurs to me that the sweets are a big culprit. It began at our church camping trip over Halloween (the last wonderful holiday full of crap food), where Josiah was playing and not thinking of his inner workings that well. At 9:30 pm I was cleaning off my big boys bottom in a camp house shower! My poor boy! How embarassing and freezing! I was spent. For-get it! I grumbled and scolded Josiah about how he needed to stop playing and just GO! Then, I realized how hard it was for him to have this happen to him, how my resilient boy was shivering from his late night, open air shower and how his little ego was very fragile. I told him what he needed to do next time, that I loved him, we laughed about how awkward the shower was, and when he was all clean I bundled him up in all the things that were clean and hugged him and snuggled him back to a normal temperature. I scooted him into his sleeping bag and he was out like a light.
Today I had a super late-pregnancy moment where Josiah made a huge mess and I LOST it. I just started sobbing. Uncontrollably. I am ashamed of myself. Joel came to my rescue and talked calmly to Josiah, cleaned him up, and did everything that I would do and more had I been sane and not hormonal. I sat in a heap on the stairs sobbing. How can keep this from my kids? My emotions, my frustrations? God give me patience! There are places in my spirit that God reminds me of and I must remember that He is in control. I treat my son as I would anyone else I have wronged. I tell him what I did that was wrong, I ask his forgiveness, and we pray that Jesus would forgive me too. And in his childhood love for me, Josiah accepts me with loving hugs and affectionate words. I must remember that God accepts me even more so, and I imagine God arms are much bigger yet just as warmly desireable. This is also a preparation, better than that book. When Tessa arrives and my emotions are peaked, I pray that God will slather us with grace. That my tears would be happy ones, and my heart would be full of joy for all of my children. That the frustrations would be swallowed up because our Father is so good.