I thought this would be a photo post...

I have a LOT of pictures from the last three months that are on Quinn's retired smartphone. I was gonna just pull them off and post them here, but it seems that I have to install the phone on the computer first. Either that, or put them on the laptop then transfer them via usb key to this computer, and that didn't seem worth the effort tonight.

I'm leaving in an hour for a rehearsal where my cello is in demand. I'm playing in a piano trio for one of Evangel's students' senior recital at the end of this month. I'm not nervous about the piece in general, but I am nervous about tonight because I've only had the music for two weeks and it's not where I would like it to be for my first practice with the other two members of the trio.

I'm leaving my baby with his daddy. That's actually not a rare thing for me to do. Very few of my excursions into town are more than 2 hours in length and my husband HATES shopping, so it's normal for me to make grocery runs and short errands while Gavin and Quinn get quality time in here at home. 

But tonight, I'm kinda nervous about that as well. I think mostly because I have to go to the absolute opposite corner of town and have no idea how late the rehearsal will run. If it goes long, Quinn is perfectly capable of warming up some baby food and feeding my little man, but nonetheless, all of the uncertainties of tonight are somewhat nerve wracking.

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Dishes are washed. I need to start the dryer. Bed needs to be made. Dinner of some sort needs to be prepped or Quinn will try to make the evening on a bowl of cereal. 

`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

Enjoyed Mom's birthday party yesterday, and looking forward to Quinn's birthday later this month. 

In other news, my brother Aaron and his wife Jenna delivered a beautiful, healthy baby girl last week. Here are a few pictures of her:

Della May

Aaron with his baby girl

The family; Aaron, Jenna and Della

My Quinn with Della

Della and Gavin; cousins!

Me with baby Della

Inspiration

Quinn is sitting at the desk, typing away on his blog. We're actually currently a dual-computer family, which is a first since we were married. It's only gonna last as long as this laptop with the broken hinges and perpetual bsod's hangs on. I can't decide whether or not it's good for our relationship. I *think* it's a positive thing, because he can study or read while I blog or facebook without it causing any tension. On the other hand, we're both more inclined to waste a bit more time since we're not obligated to take turns.

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Last night I got distracted by a fussy baby and quit writing. This morning Quinn inspired me again. He called on his morning break and was full of the Psalms for today and rejoicing in the Lord as his Hope. Also, his blog entry last night about the "due season" mentioned in Galatians was an awesome thing to read. How I love that boy.

I've been reading one of his many books this week. It's called "Journey Towards Freedom" and is the biography of Sojourner Truth.  One section I loved while reading last night was a piece where the author quoted Sojourner's testimony of how the Lord changed her name. Her name was "Isabelle" by birth, and always before she had gone by the last name of her current employer-whether that be her "Owner" or the current family paying for her labors. He gave her the name "Sojourner," but the first person she introduced her self to mocked her for it because she didn't have a last name.



"And thereupon she picked my new name to pieces and made it look so peculiar that I said to myself, 'It don't appear to be such a good name after all!' and I said 'I must go.' And I plodded on over the sandy road and was very hot and miserable. And in my wretchedness I said 'Oh, God, give me a name with a handle to it. Oh, that I had a name with a handle!' And it came to me, and that same moment, like a voice as true as God is true; 'Sojourner TRUTH.' And my heart leaped for joy-Sojourner Truth. 'Why' said I, 'thank you God. That is a good name. Thou art my last master and thy name is Truth, so shall Truth be my abiding name until I die.' "

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I've got a goal for the remainder of my life- that is to read a biography a month. I love biographies. I always have. And if I pick a new one to buy every month then I'll have a fantastic collection of them for our children to read. I'm gonna start by reading through the presidents of our country.  I've read about Andrew Jackson, Ronald Reagan, Abraham Lincoln, a little about Nixon, and etc, but I want to own a biography of each and every one of them. The great, Godly men and the wretched men alike.  After that maybe I'll read biographies of composers, maybe missionaries, maybe of inventors, maybe explorers...I don't know, but I do know it will take me about 5 years to read through the presidents, so when I get to Obama I'll start thinking about who's next.

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Gonna go warm up lunch for the hubby. I've been cleaning house and making a grocery list all morning and haven't actually eaten anything yet. I'm getting all shaky and nauseated...

oh, and a praise to Jesus- yesterday we had $3 in the bank and were out of gas when, lo and behold, we got a check in the mail that we had forgotten to expect. Glory be! :D

Making Messes or Messing Things Up...

I've realized something about my baby. That is, that he isn't yet to the mess making stage, but that that doesn't prevent him from messing things up. While he isn't yet dumping toilet bowl cleaner all over the bedroom floor, or breaking dishes, or emptying file cabinets and pantry cupboards, he does require enough time and attention to totally "mess up" my days. Dishes go unwashed, laundry unfolded, floors unvacuumed and hot meals for a tired husband go uncooked, and showers...lets just say that showers have become a luxury commodity.

 

But I don't say that grudgingly. I love having an excuse to sit on the floor and tickle and make ridiculous faces at him instead of standing at the table folding the five loads of laundry that we've been digging through for clean towels and underwear. I love sitting at the computer with cooing and giggling on my lap, sipping my mountain dew instead of standing over the stove picking through a greasy chicken carcass or vacuuming floors. I love laying him over my lap and piddling away at Mozart and Beethoven on my piano instead of washing piles of crusty cereal bowls with dried up milk in the bottom. (I HATE those, don't you? I'd almost rather never eat another bowl of cereal than wash those for the rest of time) 

At Mom's with my little sister, "Jeri."

My biggest problem is the Right-Nows. Right Now, he's asleep in his bed, and since the washer and dryer are running I feel productive and I'm sitting here on my lazy butt instead of folding the laundry that's already dry. Right Now was last night when he was sitting on the couch with Quinn and I was playing "Plants Vs Zombies" instead of catching up on dishes. Right Now was yesterday morning when he was happy on my lap and I should have been reading yesterday's devotion instead of checking my facebook. Right Now was Saturday afternoon when he was playing on his safety blanket and I should have been practicing cello instead of  YouTubing.

Then the other Right Nows... the ones where Right Now he's making me walk him in circles, but I'm grumbling in my spirit instead of thanking my Jesus for my cuddly, healthy, smart little person. Right Now he won't stop fussing, but won't lay down even though he's exhausted and I'm watching TV instead of singing the hymns that his heart needs in order to grow in the Lord as I hope he will. Right Now I'm tired from watching him all day and I'm sitting by my husband doing a Sudoku or playing even more Plants vs Zombies, or Bejeweled Blitz instead of reading a good book or studying any of the thousands of subjects I keep telling myself I would like to study. Right Now is 8 o'clock in the morning when I get up but he's still asleep and I log on instead of getting my Bible out and starting my day how I'm supposed to. 

My Dads Minivan

Our car is hanging by a thin thread. Too thin for me to be willing to drive it. Quinn still drives it the three miles to and from work, but to do so he has to hand pump the clutch each time he needs to shift and hot wire the tail lights to get them to stay on.

So we're car shopping to get ideas while we wait on our tax refund, but in the mean time my Dad has loaned us his old Ford Windstar minivan that he's used for electrical work for several years. I realized driving it home last night that I am terrible at driving an automatic. 2 years in manual transmissions has ruined me. At one point I used my left foot to brake and nearly went through the windshield. That's not how you're supposed to brake. Darnitall.

Anywho, all that to say, it's gonna take a little practice to get back in the groove, but it's good for me. :D

Merry Christmas!!

I'm feeling so very pampered right now. Quinn took me for a haircut last week, and we re-colored it to take it back to dark, so I'm a brunette again! He also brought home a pre-Christmas present when my little handmixer died, making Christmas baking difficult. I'm now the proud owner of a KitchenAid handmixer. It's beautiful.

 

  
Christmas was beautiful for us all as well. We got to have Quinn's little sisters here for Christmas morning, and we had a wonderful time with them. We picked them up at Becca's house the night before where we were celebrating Christmas with his Mom and siblings and brought them home for the night.We watched Despicable Me and ate popcorn and drank hot chocolate then all crashed shortly after midnight.


We slept in a bit the next morning, and woke up to a light sprinkling of snow on the ground. I knew that was supposed to happen, but didn't expect it to.

 

Charity-Christmas Morning

 

Tabitha-Christmas morning

 

Gavin's stocking

 

My stocking stuffer from Quinn *love*

 

 

Gavin and his stocking stuffers

Quinn going ape on his stocking

 

Quinn's Jos. A Banks coat that I got for him.

My Husqvarna Viking that Quinn got for me. Heck yeah.

After our morning together we went out to my family's house for lunch. It was a crazy fun little event that I took no pictures of, so I'll have to pirate them off of my Mom's laptaop. 

From there we went back to Becca's for Christmas with Quinn's Dad. Pictures from that:

 

My boys at Becca's

 

Grandpa Matt with the two Grandbabies: Gavin and Ella

 

Becca and I with our babies- best friends for 7 years now. <3 

New Year Letter

I can't bear to write a Year-End letter. I hate endings. The song that says "endings always come to fast; they come to fast and they pass too slow" has always struck a chord with me, therefore, this is the New Year Letter. We have a New Year ahead of us. A new year that we pray will be as full of God's grace and mercy, as full of joys, as full of growth and excitement as this past year has been. We're so grateful for all He has done in the last 50some odd weeks.

January brought Quinn's diploma, certifying his Bachelor's in Natural Arts and Sciences, his 25th birthday, as well as massive boxes of hot pockets and stacks of canned soup while we dealt with 8 weeks of morning sickness that was the expected result of the pregnancy we announced on Christmas Day.

In February we combined our birthday budgets that we had for each other and bought our dream from the summer before- a 16 foot Buffalo canoe that we strapped on top of our little 1993 Mazda and drug home to our 1 bedroom apartment until we could take it to the Finley and chain it up. After trying to fit it through the door, then trying to drag it over our balcony rail into our living room, it ended up standing on the ground a floor below us and leaning on our balcony. It was an adventure.

March brought a trip to Rockford to see the Grandparents and a day trip into Chicago to stand in the SkyDeck Ledge in the Sears (now Willis) Tower and eat the biggest, yummiest pizza we'd ever had. My 20th birthday came a few days after we got home and we celebrated by going to an ultrasound where we discovered that our sweet little somebody was a sweet little BOY, then walking to the next building to visit our brand new niece, Ella Kinzy, who was born to Becca and Nathan that morning. 

In April Quinn was on his bicycle, riding to MSU for some classes while I was in Branson shopping with my Mom, Gramma and sisters/sisters-in-law, when an SUV decided to take a turn into his path. He made a pretty good impression on their door, took a ride in the ambulance, and now, after 7 months of constant back pain, has finally been released from physical therapy and the chiropractor and we might actually get an insurance settlement. It was also an adventure, though one that we could have skipped.

May brought a rather odd, and spontaneous adventure that we got to add to our list. It was insane, but one afternoon we decided that we should take a 22 mile float trip, just the two of us, with nothing but a one man tent, a blanket, enough food for 4 meals and some sunscreen. We had the time of our lives. We lost a pile of stuff when we swamped the canoe trying to get under a log,  and I didn't hardly sleep at all (6 months pregnant on the ground isn't as easy as it seemed like it was going to be) but that's a memory that we will laugh at for the rest of time.

In June we got to go on another float- this one as an addition to the bachelor party camping trip of Quinn's best friend, Rann. The guys finished hanging out and most of them headed home, but Rann and Quinn decided another night would be fun, so they called Jenn and I and we headed out to spend the night on a gravel bar. The end of the month brought their beautiful wedding, with Quinn as a groomsman and marked our 1st wedding anniversary and we celebrated with a trip to Eureka Springs, AR and yet another short float.

July was a bit of a blur as we packed up everything in our first apartment and storage unit moved into our newer, twice as big, 2 bedroom apartment. My Sister-In-Law Becca threw a beautiful baby shower for Gavin and we were hugely blessed by all the wonderful gifts from family and friends.

August brought the most precious gift imaginable. Our beautiful Gavin was born on the 17th at 8 pounds, 12 ounces and 22.5 inches long. He was a big boy and it took a lot of work to get him here, but every day brings a new reason to be grateful that we chose to let the Lord bless us with our little person. We spent Quinn's 2 weeks of maternity leave soaking up every single detail about his little self. He's four months old now and so very grown up. It's hard to believe it's already been that long...

September sent Quinn back to work, and found us spending a couple of nights in N AR at my Gramma's house for Labor Day. My Mom also hosted a beautiful baby blessing where many of the women and girls that I've known all my life came together to fellowship and pray over our baby boy. We topped the month off by finding a retired school piano that we had delivered to our house and spent a week sanding, painting and polyurethaning so that I could start teaching. 

October sent us to Dallas so that I could be a bridesmaid in the wedding of dear friends Ashley and Daniel. It was the first real roadtrip for Gavin and he did beautifully. After the pre-wedding festivities in Dallas, we caravanned up to the SE corner of OK for the actual ceremony at a bead and breakfast.

November brought Thanksgiving and all the family events that tend to go along with it. We got our tree that weekend and we've been delighted to watch it slowly grow heavier with special ornaments from family and friends, as well as all the dear decorations from last year's tree.

This month has been a bit of a marathon, but we've enjoyed every bit of it. We've had endless events, including a 3 day roadtrip back to Rockford to let Gavin meet his great grandparents and three Christmas parties so far. As a result of the crazyness, this letter and the cards it will accompany are actually a bit late, but we hope you can forgive us and enjoy it as much as if it had arrived at your homes a couple weeks ago. We're looking forward to the next two days of festivities with our families and are so grateful that the Lord has given us such a precious year of fellowship and blessing.

May you find this coming year to be as full of the grace and love of the Lord as the past has been! Please remember us in your prayers as we continue to live our lives for the glory of Christ Jesus.

God bless and keep you all.
-Quinn, Joanna and Gavin
December, 2010

November 7th

A blurb I wrote for a different blog back in November. I'm shutting that blog down, so I'm pasting it here to save it.

He calls me “Darling.” Sometimes “the Darling.”  His family still refers to me as that, since for almost 5 years that was my title when he was with them. They ask him “how’s the Darling?” or “is the Darling coming with you?”

So that’s who I am. I’m the Darling.
I do lots of things. The most important things have to do with being a wife and being a mommy. Those consume the greater part of my time. The lesser part of my time is spent teaching music lessons, (piano and cello) playing in a string quartet  and trying to keep up with our 2 bedroom apartment that gets a daily showering of bird feathers from Snarky, the yellow parakeet.  We generate more laundry and dishes than I ever thought three people could generate…

So that’s what I do. And I watch Bones.
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I call him Mr.
Really. I do. Not as often as I call him Sweetie, Sweetheart, Baby, Honey, Dearest or a whole host of other terms of endearment, but I call him Mr.. That’s who he is. The Mr.. The head of the house. The provider. The fun loving, passionate, adorkable, goal oriented, hard working, driven Mr. Man.

He does lots of things. He gets paid to answer phones and provide customer service for credit card users, but that’s not what he really does. He does study. He’s a bookworm. He’s absolutely addicted to learning. He has his bachelors in biology and is currently pursuing computer programing. He brings home massive fat books from the library and sits at his computer editing code for hours on end. That’s what he does.

He also watches NCIS. He loves NCIS.

And he takes me to the Nature Center for long walks. And he takes me out canoeing. And hiking. And for long drives on country roads that nobody else knows about, but that he knows about because he spent several years as a cyclist and pedaled down almost every road in the county.

He drives an 80′s Chevy Silverado and listens to country music and classic rock.

He’s the love of my life.
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We call him the Little Man. The Beautiful Boy. Son. Sweetheart. Precious. Sweet Darling. Babyest. Precious One.
He’s our whole world. We sit on the couch and stare at him and caress his tiny fingers. We take turns walking him when he’s fussy. We kiss him a thousand times a day. We laugh at him and make absolute fools of ourselves trying to convince him to laugh with us. We adjust every event, every schedule, every breath to meet his needs and make him happy. He’s our firstborn. He’s our most precious gift from our most wonderful Savior.
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We have beautiful moments every day wherein I thank Jesus for giving me this life to live. Last night that moment was when I was standing in the dining room holding my sleepy baby and my husband walked up behind me I felt his breath on the back of my neck. He kissed me. First at the base of my neck, then the side of my neck, then just below my ear. He kissed away every ache and worry and frustration from a long day and I felt myself relax and my heart felt happy. I had everything I loved and needed in this life and it was all embodied in the two precious bodies that were against mine.

I thanked Jesus.

Jesus is who makes our love so deep. Jesus is who lets us love on our sweet boy without worrying about the future. Jesus is who gave the Mr a steady job, who provided a beautiful home for us, who helps us forgive, who helps us love deeper.

Jesus is who we long to be like, who we long to emulate, who we long to be near.

Jesus is our world.

Bananagram

My family has, of late, been infatuated with Bananagrams. But they don't actually use the game. They use Scrabble sets so that they can have unlimited pieces. It gets pretty insane. Six people around the table wit hundreds of scrabble pieces and 200-400 points per person. It's almost impossible to keep track of, but it's ridiculously fun. My brother Josh wrote a new set of rules where everyone builds off of the same starter word...that's even crazier. 

As such, my head has been thinking in graphs for weeks. It's scary how that happens. Boggle does it to me too. And Sudoku. I dream in letters and numbers. Literally. Dream them. It gets annoying. 

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I keep wanting to keep a food blog, but I forget to take pictures of my cooking. I took one picture of the process of my Christmas Bark, one picture of my Apple Turnovers, and I never seem to have more than two stages captured of any single project. I'm gonna have to work on that. 

See, tonight I baked up a bunch of my Great-Great-Aunt Pearl's Sugar cookies. They're stuffed full of butter and vanilla and are absolutely delicious, but I tried a shortening based frosting to accomplish a pure white base and it tastes like... shortening. *sigh*  Frosting is about taste, firstly. I like a butter-based frosting with cream cheese or sour cream, as well as a load of almond or vanilla extract. A frosting that tastes like...well...shortening...kinda defeats the purpose of frosting a cookie. I'm looking forward to trying "Royal Icing" next week, when I've had a chance to pick up some meringue powder and icing bags.

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Stargate SG-1 is an old habit that we've somehow rekindled in the last couple of weeks. We've started on Season 8 'cause neither of us remembered watching much of it, and it's funny how addictive it is. It's terribly cheesy (though nothing to be compared with Ben Browder and  Claudia Black's last show, Farscape, which was too cheesy to watch.) and extremely repetitive, but so very catchy and fun.   It's amazing how easy it is to watch 4 episodes straight through. It's less than a long movie, so it's justifiable. Ish. 

(Disclaimer; pilot episode has unwatchable material in it. I've only ever seen pieces of it.)

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In the midst of a sewing project for a cousin of mine. She commissioned matching skirts for her daugher and her daughter's American Girl doll for Christmas. I finished the skirts, except the drawstrings, and I now need to make a quick run to Michael's for the material for those, since my baby boy is asleep for the night and his daddy is home to watch him.  (yes. He sleeps through the night. Every night for the last 10 weeks. Too cool, huh?)

More to come later! 

Love yas all!

-Joanna

Two young people without a thing
Say some vows and spread their wings
Settle down with just what they need
Livin on love

She dont care 'bout whats in style
She just likes the way he smiles
It takes more than marble and tile
Livin on love

Livin on love, buyin on time
Without somebody nothing aint worth a dime
Just like an old fashioned story book rhyme
Livin on love

Provision

We have a trip to Rockford coming up. As of last week we had no money for a trip to Rockford. 

Last week Quinn's check came in at $200 over what we expected. He checked with his manager and they confirmed that it was correct. 

We now have money for our trip to Rockford. 

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Our laptop has been acting up for several months. We figured we'd replace it after Christmas, but this month we started getting random bsod's, and figured we were about to be computerless. 

Last week we got a text from Q's dad, who is moving, wanting to know if we wanted his desktop. 

Yes. 

We did. 

So now I'm typing on a Dell desktop that has all of my pictures and music safely stored on it's hard drive, instead of a dying laptop. 

Too cool. 

God is so good. 

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Gavin's been a grump the last couple days, but woke up happy this morning. It's a relief. Of course, I'm not sure *how* happy he is because I haven't put him down yet, but he's happy enough to be sitting in my lap chewing his fist and gurgling at me. That's a huge improvement over yesterday's ultra clingyness. I don't think there's a dryer sheet big enough to cut the cling that was going on yesterday. He was crying within 3 minutes of being put down EVERY time I set him down except one 40 minute nap. Baking was difficult. 

Speaking of- I am going to go consume a bowl full of apple pie with milk for my late breakfast and put together a pot of beef and tater stew.

Random pics:

You Light Up My Life

 I'm not sure how I'm supposed to get things done these days....

 

The child is the embodiment of sweetness. You can talk him out of fussing, and he will smile for anyone. He's a snuggly little koala bear and I love him with all my heart.

Not that life isn't busy... I realized this morning that it has been at least two weeks since I've had a day to stay home. I canceled teaching my younger siblings today so I could do just that. I thought I was gonna scour the house, but instead I'm sitting on the couch with my sleeping baby listening to classical piano music on Pandora. *happy sigh*   I will have to make dinner soon, though, so my vegging is going to be cut short. 


Daylight savings is killing me. Yesterday morning I woke up in a panic because the clock said 8 o'clock and that meant that there was no way we could get out the door in time for church because it was acutally 9 o'clock. Quinn let me suffer for 10 minutes before he reminded me that it's fall... which meant that I was waking him up at 7am on one of the very few mornings that he had to sleep in. Darn.  Gavin was awake for the day though, so it didn't matter much.

 
He's got a wonderful little sleep pattern down. He's out cold by 9:30 every night and doesn't wake up until 5, then will go back to sleep 'til 7 or 8. It's wonderful for me. 

Life, in general, is wonderful for me. I'm not quite sure how to keep up with things yet, but I'm getting better. The bird feathers and dirty dishes usually are what gets to me. Today it's the grungy kitchen floor and the filthy toilets. I already did the dishes. 

I am so very glad to be home today. Did I mention that yet? I just finished six weeks of substituting as an orchestra teacher for a friend of mine who had her baby boy the day before Gavin turned 6 weeks old. That was fun, but killed two afternoons a week. Every Monday and every Wednesday I was leaving the house at 2:30 and not getting home til late because appointments piled up on top of each other. It's gonna be so good to own my weeks again. 

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Just discovered that Josh Groban is releasing a new album next week. I'm thrilled. Giddy. Excited... I've been wondering if he was working on anything new. I <3 <3 <3 Groban. Thankfully, Quinn appreciates his music too, so we can always enjoy it together. Our music tastes don't exactly perfectly align. 
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Going to make some dinner rolls and bar cookies and throw a beef stew together for dinner tonight. As soon as everything's cooking I'll go ahead and mop the floor, and maybe I'll find time to scour the bathrooms tonight. 

Natural Disaster

Monday evening I layed Gavin on the couch to change a dirty diaper, got him all clean and turned to pick up the new diaper when I heard some noises that were more than a little frightening, considering the fact that the only thing between my couch cushion and his sweet, bare little bottom was one of my favorite sleepers. I grabbed his feet and slid the clean diaper under him, but not before the sleeper had a pool of baby poo in it. So I grabbed some baby wipes and proceeded to mop up the mess under him in order to prevent it leaking through the sleeper, but he decided he still wasn't done. I was trying to hold him up so that he didn't end up laying in his mess, and trying to contain the continual stream with the "clean" diaper, but wasn't succeeding, so a frantic, half laughing yell brought the perpetrator's dad onto the scene.

I was just dealing with the mess, but Quinn, while holding Gavin's legs up, got totally tickled with the concentrated expression on the baby boy's face. He was totally calm, totally focused, and totally messing everywhere. I'm still not sure how we did it, but somehow, between the two of us, we managed to keep the mess off the couch until his expression changed to smug satisfaction, by using two diapers, a sizable handful of wipes, and the sleeper.

The sleeper spent the night soaking in a tub full of warm water and detergent. It's in the dryer now. We'll see if it survived.

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5 o'clock Tuesday morning I pulled the hungry child into bed with me, nursed him, and snuggled him in beside me to sleep through dawn. I woke up an hour later with both of us drenched. He had soaked plum through his diaper, onesie and (another) sleeper. Darn.

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9 o'clock, that same morning, little man was all clean and fresh and fed, in an adorable overalls/hoodie outfit. I was feeling awful, fighting a migraine, and was walking from the couch to the desk, where Quinn was fighting a nasty cold and studying on the laptop, when another terrifying sound came from the boy. This time, from the top-end. Breakfast went everywhere. For the most part, "everywhere" means "into mom's clean cami that she had just changed into." It also means "all over mom's foot and the carpet." The last bit of meaning would be "down the front of aforementioned adorable overalls/hoodie outfit."

I didn't cry.

I handed the boy to Quinn, and I left the room.

Retching.

But not crying.

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So, I guess there's a reason that people say that all that newborns do is poop and throw up, but honestly, that was a record breaking stretch. He spits up quite a bit, but not excessively, and rarely cries, though he fusses when he's tired, bored or hungry. His diapers are usually a breeze to change, and he has yet to develop a diaper rash.

He does love to talk. Absolutely is crazy about making conversation. He'll sit on your lap and stare into your eyes and grunt and gasp and coo and drool for as long as you'll return the favor. Minus the drooling. I don't know that he'd appreciate that.

He also loves his toys. He loves the toys on his rocking seat, and loves anything I hang on his car seat. He'll lay on the floor for a solid half hour talking to anything that I hang above him. He's so quick, and so in tune to everything around him that it's hard to keep his busy little mind occupied.

He's got a routine, and he likes to maintain it. He has his morning nap, then playtime, then a very long afternoon nap, followed by 3-4 hours of being very awake and wanting very much attention. He'll doze all evening, but hates to be put to bed before 10:30 or 11. (Which would be why, at 9:30 last night, when we were ready for bed, he got to hang out in our bed with us for an hour or so while Mommy dozed with him)

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We attended the wedding some very dear friends this past weekend, and one of them noted how much personality Gavin has, citing his psych professor who claims children don't actually develop a personality until they're 2-3 years old. The idiot. He must have never been a child...

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But on that note, Gavin had his first roadtrip last week, and did a fantastic job. We drove from 6:30am til 3pm on Friday, and he hardly fussed the entire time. He only ate 3 times in the 9 hour stretch, so we made excellent time. He put up with Quinn and I walking him to the Galleria North for a couple hours, then Mommy dragging him to a restaurant and on a photo-scavenger hunt for Ashley's bachelorette party that evening, then slept without a sound at the hotel room that night. I did NOT expect him to do so well, but he did.

Friday morning we went to the wedding-before-the-wedding, where Ashley and Danny had their pastor officiate the legal ceremony, since they couldn't find anyone in OK to legally officiate at the wedding location, (it was an adorable little event. We were *so* glad that they asked us to witness it!) then went on our traditional hunt for a bookstore and a coffee mug. (We're collecting mugs. Currently we have  Chicago mug, a Eureka Springs mug and now a Dallas mug! Can't wait to add more to the collection!) From there we headed to OK to find the reserve where the wedding/bed and breakfast was, but headed W instead of E, and ended up an hour behind schedule. Darnitall. Made for a 6 hour drive that afternoon, and Gavin didn't cope well with that. About 4 hours into it he absolutely fell apart. We had to pull over for 20 minutes so I could cuddle/cool him down 'cause he'd worked himself into a sweaty little wreck, but then he was fine for the last two hours. I felt so bad for the little man.

That evening was wedding rehearsal, then a bar-b-que and a campfire. It was so fun to have some time to hang out with all the Dallas people. Most of them we'd never met, but knew via facebook, so getting to spend some face time with them, just relaxing around the fire, was delightful. We're kinda in love with everything about Dallas...the roads, the businesses, the people. It was pretty awesome. Not *quite* as good as home, but pretty close.

Sleep at the bed and breakfast was wonderful. We were on a hillside above a wide creek, and we got to listen to the lovely forest sounds and the room was delightfully cool all night. (Got chilly, eventually, so we closed the windows) The next morning Quinn was pretty much on full time Gavin duty while I helped the other two bridesmaids get our bride ready for her 1 o'clock date with her future. It was the normal crazy rush, coupled with photographer appointments that ended up getting pushed back further and further, then there was the darling, gorgeous, outdoor ceremony on a huge pond surrounded by massive pine trees. It was lovely.

Then the reception at the bed and breakfast, with a full dinner buffet and cake and punch. The whole thing was a party. We all had so much fun. Gavin, again, did beautifully, staying awake and happy through most of the festivities. Around 5:30 we packed up, loaded the car, and by 6:30 we headed home.

Quinn, through the course of the day, was developing a cough/congestion issue, and by the time we rolled into our parking lot at 11 that night, was all out sick. He coughed, sniffled and headached his way through Monday, Tuesday and yesterday, but this morning was well, with the exception of a small left-over cough...

But now I have it. Went to bed feeling iffy on Tuesday night and got worse and worse all day yesterday. Raw throat, nasty cough, sinuses that are completely congested, a constant headache, etc. Not fun. I woke up without a voice this morning, and I haven't quite found it yet. I did get the house a little bit cleaned up, but it's still in rough shape.

And that's the blurb for the past week. My only excuse for the length/wordiness of it is that diet mountain dew is the only thing that feels good on my throat right now, so I'm buzzing with caffeine.

A Messy House, A Chunky Baby, A Tired Husband

I thought when I got home last night that I'd have an energy burst and whip this place into order.

It didn't happen.

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I used an old-school cheat method yesterday and weighed my baby---in the produce section of Price Cutter. He's 12.5 pounds!  that's a chunky, rock-solid  five-and-a-half-week-old boy. From 8 pounds 11 ounces at his one week appointment, that's almost a consistent pound-a-week gain.

But he really isn't that fat. He's got a few little rolls, but for the most part he's just solid.

Right now he's sitting in his baby rocker with a blanket on his lap that he keeps kicking off. Every time I lay it back over his lap he grins and starts kicking again. I think he's loving the fact that he has the power to make mommy look at him. 

He so loves to talk. Last night we tried to convince him into going to bed at 10, but ended up laying him between us with the light on having a three way conversation for a half hour. He loved it. He cooed and gurgled and stared at us and we just talked at and around him. He finally got tired enough that when I fed him at 10:30 he drifted off.

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Quinn had a three night string of 3-5 hours of sleep and two days of 10 hour work shifts, so last night he was pretty shot. We were both dead, actually, 'cause I'd been up and out the door at 8:15 after being out 'til 11 the night before, and had spent the entire day at orchestra, teaching and helping and hanging out with my family, and didn't get home until 5:30.  We thought about going out, since we hadn't seen each other for two days, but ended up snuggling up on the couch and watching "Prince of Persia."

It was a cute movie. Typica Disney; some crazy action, cheesy sword fights, decent effects and lame humor.

Oh, and an ugly hero.

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15 days 'til my dear friend, the Ashlily, is wed to her Danny-boy. I wish I had a scanner so I could show off the adorable invitations we received this week. I so love that girl.

We'll be having a crazy 4 days surrounding that event. Driving two hours to pick up a rental car so we can take it t TX (next state rule. It sucks) then driving down to Dallas for the night, then caravanning to OK for the next night, then back to AR after the ceremony on Sunday, then home on Monday night. Not sure how well little-big-man is going to do, but since he's pretty much always good, it'd surprise me if he was anything else.


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Missing my man today. Work is a necessity, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't rather have him home with me and our boy.

Oh, and the new quartet pictures:

The Great Race

Quinn has become a blogaholic. I don't know how it happened, but I'm not keeping up with him. I suppose it would be easier if my posts weren't complete tomes, but hey, what's the use of talking if you're not gonna talk a lot? His blog is seriously fun though. It's a nerd/Christian/cyclist gumbo, and you never know what odd links and facts are gonna pop up on his page.

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Last night was insane. Quinn proved his ability to father with a 4 hour babysitting experience, while I practiced and took part in a photo shoot with the Amore String Quartet. Our organizer, Heidi, has purchased a web domain for us and her brother is creating a site, so we needed a 20 second clip of us playing and some new photos since we switched out first violins. 

Our last photo shoot was a totally impromptu event, following a wedding ceremony that we were part of. I was seven months pregnant, so we worked hard to keep the angles from showing my baby belly.

Here are a couple pics from that:

Liz, the one on the far left in both pictures, was our first violin, but we now have Nate playing with us. I can't wait to see the new pictures and the website. We did some pretty funky stuff for the photographer- I hope they turn out! I'm not sure which is worse though, doing a photo shoot at 7 months pregnant, or one 3 weeks post-partum with baby flab still hanging out 'round my mid section. lol. Oh well. One can't dictate the lives of 3 other people according to self-image issues. Darnitall.

Anyway, practice last night was fun. We were in an office that's in an old building downtown so we had the high ceilings and brick walls and the accoustics were fantastic. Quinn managed to keep Gavin happy for 2.5 hours while we practiced, then another 2 hours while we took pictures, which is worthy of a medal of honor in my opinion. The child thinks he's going to shrivel up and die if he hits an hour and 40 minutes (as opposed to his normal hour and 30 minutes between meals)  while I'm holding him. They were too sweet last night, and I can't believe I didn't get a picture. Quinn had Gavin in the infant carrier and a diaper bag over his shoulder and spent such a long time walking and bouncing him to sleep, and keeping the misquitos off of him.

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So, I better get off and get to work. I've got piles of unsorted laundry to fold and hang up and a messy kitchen to deal with, then I need to pack clothes, the air matress, bedding, the play pen, chargers, phones, cameras, etc, for two nights at Gramma's house in AR with the other 20-some members of my family, Then I need to run to Braum's and the library and get a shower, and it all needs to be done in 10 hours and 8 minutes, all punctuated by seven different 20 minute feeding sessions, which means that I actually have closer to 8.5 hours...

It can be done.

The Miracle You Are-

These little hands are miracle of grace.

Your shining eyes and your sweet and smiling face.

All that you are, and all you'll grow to be

Is evidence that God is ever merciful to me!

Oh, I see mercy in the miracle you are,

A gift to me sent straight from Heav'n above.

God the Father has made me a mother,

What a miracle of mercy and of love.

 
Looking at you, I'm amazed at what I see.

A bright, living miracle looking back at me.

Perfect according to God's divine design.

Oh, I know that I'm unworthy, but I call this treasure mine.
 
 

  For some odd reason my SD port won't read my memory stick, so these pics are all from last week, but he's still just as sweet and beautiful, so I think they're relevant. He does have a bad case of baby acne that makes me want to cry for him, but since it doesn't seem to bother him, and there's really nothing that can be done about it, we're just pretending that it isn't actually there.
 
   He's such a good baby. He's only actually cried hard enough and long enough to produce genuine tears on two or three occasions. He's quiet and content and sleeps and eats beautifully. Our first couple weeks working as a team have been just about as smooth and happy as my pregnancy was; he's gaining weight (he's a compact baby. Thick and snuggly and strong.) eating quickly and with no hassle, putting up with outings with almost no complaints, etc. Quinn is fantastic with him. They talk and walk and snuggle and have a grand time in general. I'm so madly in love with my boys that I often find myself so overwhelmed with feeling that I don't have to think. It's a lovely thing.
 
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  We've got a road trip coming up. We're heading to Dallas in October, then caravanning back N to OK with one of my bff's wedding party for a wedding at a bed and breakfast, then coming back home. This bride is a genius. She having all of us girls buy white dresses that fit our own personal styles, and she bought a dye in the color she's chosen so she can dye all of our different styles the same shade of eggplant.
 
  Of course, finding a white sundress at this time of year is proving to be difficult. I had no idea how much weight I was gonna gain during my pregnancy, so I kept putting it off. The entire time we were mall walking last month I was keeping an eye out, but nobody seemed to have any. Right now I'm scouring the internet, trying to find something that will be easy to alter if it doesn't fit just right. I need to get it shipped in, altered, and mailed to her before end of the month at the very latest. Eeek. Talk about crunching things.
 
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  I just missed three phone calls and two texts from Quinn on his break.  Poor guy.  I hate doing that. The phone was on vibrate in the bottom of the diaper bag... I took a break from blogging and shopping to feed the little man and when I came back to the computer I noticed the time. I hope he's not too worried...
 
  Baby's grumping in his sleep and I'm thinking I'm a little hungry, so I'm gonna run for now. Thanks for reading.

Joy and Sorrow Are This Ocean

Joy and sorrow are this ocean

And in their every ebb and flow

Now the Lord a door has opened

That all Hell could never close

Here I'm tested and made worthy

Tossed about but lifted up

In the reckless raging fury

That they call the love of God"

-R Mullins

August 15th was my due date. Gavin wasn't born on August 15th. Christine was born. Christine was 15 oz, and her sweet, perfect life lasted only six hours. Her parents loved her, held her, kissed her, and will remember her for the rest of their lives. We spent the day at church and with our family, every moment carrying prayers and hopes for Christine and her family, and it was such a blessing to hear my Mom recount something one of her dear friends had told her years before; that every life is a vapor in God's sight. That a child who's time here on earth is only a few hours to us is every bit as significant to God as a life that lasts a hundred years, and is just as perfectly and carefully planned.

When we got news that Christine was being taken off of the ventilator we gathered round with my family and we all prayed and cried for her family. The rest of the evening was sobering and overwhelming. There was nothing we could do, and our hearts were breaking.

Monday morning Quinn went to work. The same pre-labor contractions that I'd been having for two weeks were going on, but nothing else. I sat at the computer reading people's notes to Christine's families and crying. It seemed so wrong to be sitting there with my healthy little man kicking away inside me while they grieved the tiny life that had been carried home.  By 2 o'clock that afternoon the contractions were feeling more and more like they were supposed to; pulling in my legs and pelvis and aching in my back. I found myself praying that it wouldn't be labor; wishing that I was only 8 months along so that we could have time to hurt for Christine and her family, time to rest, time to reset...

But they didn't stop, and I found myself switching gears. Quinn got home and we watched a movie and snacked on chips and salsa. He asked if I was having contractions. "Yeah."  was about the full extent of my answer. I didn't want to call it labor 'cause I knew that if I did, it would fizzle out, just like every other time the contractions had grown consistent over the previous two weeks. I suggested we go for a walk instead of just going to bed, so we went out and walked something close to a mile, maybe more. Quinn was talking plans and ideas, and the further we walked the more I ached, but it  was good to listen to him talk, so we went on.

By the time we got back to the apartment I was starting to get a little excited, and actually looking forward to labor. I *know* that was of the Lord, because 6 hours before I had been anything but emotionally ready for birth. We went to bed, and I was almost instantly asleep.

At 3:00am I was instantly awake. A contraction had hit that had my eyes wide open. I tried sitting up. I started to stand up, but that didn't work. I sat back down. It ended, and I lay back down. 5 minutes later I was sitting up again. For about a half hour I sat up and lay down, sat up and lay down, sat up...and lay down.

Around 3:30 I woke Quinn up. I honestly don't remember much of the next hour. We repacked the hospital bag, I walked to the living room, stopped and leaned over the back of the chair for 2 minutes, walked to the kitchen, leaned on the counter for 2 minutes, walked back to the bedroom, leaned on door for 2 minutes, walked to the bed, sat on the birthing ball, which happened to be right there, for 2 minutes, and about that time Quinn decided we should head in the general direction of the hospital.

My contractions were lasting 2-3 minutes, and were 4-5 minutes apart. They weren't painful, weren't unbearable, but did take my breath away. We got to the hospital and went in to be checked. I was 5-6 cm and 100% effaced. They moved us to a labor and delivery room. It was about 5:30 in the morning. By 7am I was 7 cm, by 9am I was 8, but I was still 8 at 11, and still 8 at noon. Kristy came in then, and we were all ready for her to break my water. No doubts there.

 Quinn was amazing the whole time. Like, by-the-book-model-birth-partner amazing. I didn't even realize how selfless he was until we got to our room that night and I found out that he hadn't even taken time to get his hands on a glass of water or eat anything since we'd left the house that morning. At one point our nurse offered him a cup of coffee and he accepted... that was it though.

By 12:30 I'd jumped from my 8cm to a stretchy 9, and we were figuring on having a baby within an hour. At that point it was excruciating. Gavin was completely posterior, so having my water broken caused intense back labor to set in. I expected things to pick up, so I just went with it, not bothering to try to figure out what was hurting or why.

But we didn't have a baby by 1:30. We didn't have a baby by 2:00. We just had 3 minute long, off the chart contractions, and every 30 minutes were told that I was till a 9. I am amazed, and oh so grateful, that we had the staff we did. I had been 8-9 cm for almost 5 hours when shift change rolled around. By any hospital's book that counts as "failure to progress" and people are expected to start forcing labor along, but they didn't. Nobody even said anything. When the nurses switched out Jackie brought Heidi in and gave her the low-down. She was completely positive, praising me and Quinn for working together and how well we were coping (we weren't, at that point. We were shot.) and encouraging Heidi to help us make the birth happen naturally.

Heidi was a God-send. At 2pm, when she came in, Quinn was exhausted and overwhelmed and out of ideas for how to help me. I was half sobbing through each contraction, completely unable to get a grip and focus. My legs were too tired for me to keep trying different positions, even though that was the only thing that seemed to help, so we didn't know what to do other than keep taking it one second at a time. But it wasn't working. Heidi took the next hour and forty-five minutes and didn't leave my side once. She got in my face, got my breathing back under control, shifted me into different positions and gave rhyme and reason to the rest of the labor. She explained why we were moving to this position and how many contractions we were gonna be there for. Then the next position, then the next. About thirty minutes after she came in I had cleared my head enough to actually make the connection that it was the back pain that was driving me crazy, not the labor pain, so I gasped to Quinn to ask if they had any non-narcotics. 

They gave me a shot of a muscle relaxant. Not sure that it helped much, other than mentally, but I was able to focus more on the contractions and less on the pain, and apparently I was sleeping the 2 minutes between contractions. Quinn said at one point I was snoring between contractions. lol. Don't remember that... But in the mean time he was watching the chart and waking me up as soon as contractions started to escalate so that I wouldn't wake up in the middle of one and not be able to get up to cope through it.

After about 40 minutes of that, around 3:15, I was dying to start pushing, and as soon as I mentioned as much to Heidi she jumped into action. She had me wait for the next contraction then she held my cervix open through 3 contractions so that I could push Gavin's head down into the birth canal.  As soon as he was there she paged Kristy, but had me keep pushing. Whenever I wanted, however much I wanted. Talk about relief. NOW the end was in sight. It didn't matter how much it hurt, I was so done, and so ready to have my baby boy.

About that time I found myself thinking of Christine's mommy again. How much she would have given to make it 40 weeks and have 3 hours of transition and get to push a big, healthy baby into the world. Oh I thanked Jesus. I was miserable. I was exhausted, but I thanked Jesus.

I guess here is where my only gripe with being in the hospital comes in to play. I did not want to sit back, hold my knees against my chest and push. I wanted to be up, at least squatting, and take my time about it, how it's supposed to happen, but I was too tired to ask for it, and nobody there knew anything different from what they always did, so I sat there holding my knees as far back as I could and I pushed. I had wanted a mirror, but I shook my head when they asked if I wanted it. I didn't want to think about it, and I could see enough in the reflection on the tv on the opposite wall.

As soon as his head was crowned I reached down and felt him. That was encouragement enough to go through the entire ordeal again. Ok, so maybe not...but it helped. A lot. It only took a few minutes from there to get his head through, though he tore me pretty seriously in the process, then his shoulders were a breeze. I don't remember seeing him when Kristy caught him, though I know I did, but Quinn said his eyes were wide open and he sneezed almost instantly.  It was 3:48pm, August 17th, 2010.  He's been sneezing since. Kristy lifted him to my chest and I held onto him for a minute, and tried to get him to latch on, but he totally wasn't interested and I was seeing spots and my arms were shaking... and Kristy was trying to stitch me up and it was making me nauseated. I was sure I was going to drop him, so I had his daddy take him.

They pulled the incubator over to my bed side so that I could hold onto him while they rubbed him dry and cleaned out his mouth and nose. As soon as I touched his foot he jerked away. He's a ticklish baby. We've almost got him to where he's alright with his feet being touched now, but he's still ticklish.  Soon he was in a blanket and hat and back in Quinn's arms until my stitches were done and the placenta was delivered.  Quinn gave him to me, and I held him as long as I could. I remember taking a few pictures and kissing him a lot. I had Quinn take him again pretty quickly, 'cause I was way out of it. They weighed him and measured him; 8pounds 12 ounces and 22.5 inches long with a 14 in head. Yow. Big boy. 

I think I mostly slept for the next hour. I remember that Quinn was sitting in the chair near the bed and that he and Gavin were dozing the couple of times I looked over there. They looked so precious, and Quinn looked so shot. He was such a hero through the whole thing. Dad's who stick out labor with their wives have a whole new level of respect in my mind. I can't believe my Dad made it through 14 of us...

Some time around 5 Heidi came back in and wanted me to get up and go to the bathroom. I was sure I didn't need to, but she was insistent, so I got up and we headed toward the bathroom. Halfway across the room I was seeing spots and my legs were feeling rubbery. About the time we got to the bathroom door I heard Heidi say "Joanna? Joanna? Are you alright?" and I remember saying "no." but neither Quinn or Heidi heard it, so I must have just thought it. Next thing I knew there there three nurses around me and I was on the floor. Heidi was saying "Joanna, open your eyes. Look at me Joanna. Are you okay?"

They put me back in bed.

I think it was about a half hour later that they came and helped me into a wheel chair and we headed upstairs to the postpartum floor. We stopped at the nursery to drop the boy off for a half hour and got settled into our room. Quinn looked like he'd been hit by a truck (and I've seen him when he's literally been hit by a truck...) and I'm sure I didn't look any better. Quinn sent out some texts, letting people know Gavin was here and well, and my Mom stopped by to help me coax my baby into latching on.

We had a private room and Quinn had his own bed, so Gavin spent the night going back and forth between us. He was so beautiful, and so content. He fed well and slept well and, all in all, it was a good night.  The next morning they did his circumcision, and he was a little champion through that, but the meds they gave him made him groggy enough that he didn't hardly eat until that night.

Thursday morning we were released before noon and were so glad to get home and cozyed in. The week since has been dream-worthy-beautiful. Our sweet little man is 9 days old this afternoon, and so perfect that it hurts to look at him. He sleeps great at night, waking up every couple hours then zonking out again as soon as he's fed. (Other than 5o'clock in the morning, every morning, when he decides to be awake for an hour or two.) He's laying on the couch next to me right now, completely sprawled out and completely unconscious. His sleeper made it through the night without getting soaked, which is a first, and we're about ready for a baby-wipe bath and some lotioning.

The Quinn time has been fantastic. I think we're more in love then ever, though it didn't seem possible to ever love each other more. The hormones have been hard for him... I've had a couple evenings when I've just cried. A lot. Without being able to voice a reason. Last night was one of them. I cried, no joke, for 3 hours straight. Ended up with a migraine because of it. The poor guy spent forever sitting on the couch holding me, then snuggled up in bed holding me, and I just couldn't give him a way to help, other than holding me. He was off to work at 6:30 this morning, and since Gavin was awake from his 5 o'clock feeding when the alarms went off, I was up to see him off.  I lasted until he was walking down the hallway to the door before the first tear came, then I went to bed and sobbed for a half hour.

Since I got over that and rekindled my head ache, we've had a lovely morning. We layed in bed and talked and read the day's Psalms, and we got up and had a banana muffin with a thick layer of cream cheese for breakfast. It's almost time to make lunch for daddy, so I'm gonna reheat some alfredo while the baby finishes his nap.

That's basically it. The birth story. It wasn't something amazingly beautiful, and it most definitely wasn't perfect, but every bit of it was God led, and it was miraculous, and it brought us the love of our lives, and it taught us how to love each other more deeply. Our special somebody has a face now, and a name, and knows our voices and looks into our eyes and melts our hearts every time we look into his.  I don't know that you can ask much more than that from a birth...

...though next time I wouldn't mind having someone coax a precious somebody into the birth canal a couple hours sooner...