Potty Like It's 1999

Today is the day. Jude Rives has broken off his relationship with diapers. He has been ready for a while I would say, but I had to wait until I was ready. That probably sounds a little self-centered, but I think my penchant for putting my needs above those of my children is not a big secret. But we go cold turkey with potty-training over here. Once the day comes, no more diapers at all. So it is of utmost importance to make sure all parties involved are ready.

Jude has a big advantage in that he has been watching Asher use the potty for quite a while now. Where Asher was a little overwhelmed and intimidated by the whole prospect, Jude has been asking for some time to use the big potty. I can remember physically restraining Asher on the little potty just so he would use it and realize the earth below him would not open up and swallow him. But Jude gets it and has no problem with the process. In fact, Jude was not interested in the little potty at all.

So while there was an elaborate production involving a potty chair, a doll that wets, a potty chair for the doll that wets, special salty snacks, special juice, and special treats for rewards when Asher was potty-trained, Jude, in true second child fashion, got...um...not quite that. His production consisted of a little shot of prune juice in his apple juice this morning and a stern warning not to tee-tee in his Thomas underwear.

And so far so good. We had one accident this morning, but many successful trips to the potty involving ALL desirable potty deeds so I am happy. And Jude is happy because he has secured a trip to Coldstone for ice cream with sprinkles when Daddy gets home. Some may call that bribery. I call it speaking his love language.

I'm not popping the champagne just yet, but we are post-nap with still-dry "Thomas unnerwears." But I will check off Day One as a success.

Changing of the (Shin) Guards

I am back, baby. Our house has been fever-free for days now and it feels amazing. See, we were all sick with the flu. Sometimes I leave out important details like that and then my readers are left to fill in the blanks as to what exactly has been going on in our lives. I hate it when I do that. So just to make sure there is no ambiguity, we did, in fact, fall victim to the flu. I hate to even bring it up, but it seems like I should at least mention it.

Soccer starts tomorrow (assuming the rain holds off.) Kris took Asher to buy cleats tonight. We have had shin guards for months now in anticipation of the advent of this glorious day but he needed some shorts and shoes so that he can look legit as he and all the other clueless 3 and 4 year olds run around the field aimlessly. He is on a team with four of his buddies, so it should be a lot of fun! More importantly, I think I'm going to make a fabulous soccer mom. I was made for this role. I will shine.

I went to the gym tonight to lift weights for the the first time in over 3 weeks. Ouch. It looks like this whole "soccer" thing may cut into my Saturday morning Ashtanga yoga so I decided to get a workout in tonight. But my kitchen is still a wreck from dinner and I used all my energy doing squats and step-ups. It'll still be there in the morning. Or it won't be and then I'll be glad I didn't waste time tonight cleaning it.

Simeon James is the proud owner of 4 teeth, 2 of which are his top front and have just broken through. He earned those teeth. We all earned those teeth. So I'm hoping this means he will start wanting more of his bottle than he has been. He currently refuses to drink more than 3-4 ounces at a feeding. This has gone on for a while. He weighs 22 pounds and has enough fat for him and a friend stored in his thighs so I'm not concerned about him wasting away. But still it seems as though a baby his size and age would want more. Thoughts?

The other day, I was changing Simeon's diaper and he was being most uncooperative. I turned him back towards me and firmly told him "no, no, Simeon." Jude was sitting next to me and proceeded to inform his little brother, "That not honor God, cheeky Simmy." Cheeky is Jude's favorite adjective (thank you, Thomas the Train.) So he refers to him as that pretty regularly. I had to laugh because even two year olds have that uncanny ability to deal with the speck in their brother's eye without feeling the need to remove their own log.

So Charlie Sheen? Not only is he an incredibly accurate picture of what the Fool in Proverbs is like, but he is also the source of some of my favorite one-liners now. That darn Adonis DNA--it'll get you everytime.

No Retreat, No Surrender

Last weekend, the women of our church held the first (of many I hope) retreats in beautiful Wimberley, Texas. But as I think I might have possibly mentioned, we have been a little under the weather around here. So when Jude succumbed to the flu the day before I was supposed to leave, I knew I wouldn't get to attend.

But Kris knew how much I wanted to be able to go. Almost every woman in our church would be there and it was a rare chance to spend some time with them in a fun, relaxed environment. So my mom agreed to come over and help Kris so that I could go on the retreat.

I know what you're thinking...Super Mom! Way to leave your kids when they are sick and weak and really need you. Who does that?

Me, apparently. And I'm actually really glad that I did.

Of course, I struggled with the decision. Even though Kris encouraged me to go and even though my mom graciously offered to come stay and help while I was gone, it went against every inclination I had as a mom.

But I was exhausted. After having the flu, (I did mention that already right? I had the flu. Just making sure you got that) I was exhausted. Like "just brought home a newborn" exhausted. I slept in 2 hour increments while I was running fever and then the kids got sick and Simeon was teething so we were up all night with them. I was drained and this was my big chance to rest up, recover, and come back ready to be a fully present wife and mother.

So I went. I knew the kids would be fine. They adore their Mamaw and their Daddy and the two of them are more than capable of doing what needs to be done. It was a sacrifice on their part for sure. Sick kids are whiny and clingy and sleepless and just all round pitiful. But they were willing and I'm so glad they were.

I left Friday afternoon and came back Sunday afternoon rested and refreshed. It was such a joy to get to know the women in my church better and to spend some time alone. And to sleep. I won't lie--that was probably the best part given my stage of life.

I know this was a rare gift. Usually, life doesn't work out that way. The challenging, tiring portions don't normally come with a break in the middle so you can recharge and gather steam to finish well. The next time we are plagued with illnesses, I can't expect a little getaway. So I'm so thankful for the opportunity this time and especially to my husband and mom for making it possible. There were no guilt trips or desperate phone calls. They didn't make me feel like I was abandoning them. They were genuinely supportive and that in itself was such a gift to me.

As I was there reflecting on this opportunity, it struck me what a picture it all was of the gospel in my life. I saw it all as a physical picture of what God has done for me spiritually. I was brought out from a place of despair and weariness to a place of quiet rest. I didn't deserve it. I didn't even ask for it. It was just provided. I did none of the work but received all of the benefit.

The weekend was wonderful. I love the women in my church. We are a diverse group of ladies that have learned a lot about being the body of Christ to one another. So I'm so grateful I was able to go.

I reentered my life with a rested body, a refreshed spirit, and a renewed gratitude for my family.

So basically I'm saying abandoning my children was the best thing I ever did. Nominate me for Mother of the Year, ok?

Don't Waste Your Flu

It has not been a whole lot of fun around our house for the past week and a half. I got the party started on Friday when what I thought was just another allergy attack quickly turned into a high fever and chills. I spent the next three days in bed, which sounds lovely, but the feeling that death was imminent really sucked the joy out of it. My last day of fever was last Monday and Asher's first day was Tuesday. And then Jude took his turn beginning on Thursday. Simeon got a piece of the action over the weekend. I am here to type these words because of God's abundant grace poured out to me in the form of my husband and my mother. Kris single-parented while I was down and then my mom came during the week to help with the sick boys as I recovered.

I usually tell people I absolutely love having children so close together. It's challenging and very busy, but a small span of stages to contend with normally makes things easier. Exception: when the flu hits. Total game-changer. It's hard. And I had lots of help.

But having Family Flu is what God ordained for us. So obviously there are some things He wanted me to think about and learn from during this process. So taking my cue from this, I decided to write out those things and hopefully, not waste my flu.

1. I am more grateful now for the health and well-being I experience 99% of the time. I forget to give thanks when I wake up in the morning and there is no pain or sickness. But what a blessing. I usually feel great and that is something, in this cursed world, that God gives in his great mercy.

2. I was reminded how much I love my role was a wife and a mother. When I was lying in bed, listening to life go on outside my door, I longed to get up and join them. I wanted to be the one caring for my children and taking care of my house. I wanted to come along side of Kris as he played with the boys and got them what they needed. But I had to isolate myself from them. Before this, the idea of closing my door and getting to rest from my normal duties sounded amazing, but I discovered that being in the middle of their lives is what makes mine joyful.

3. My husband is phenomenal. I already knew this, of course, but he jumped into the role of primary caregiver of us all and he did not miss a beat. We are used to tag-teaming and giving each other breaks, but he was on his own for four days and I could not be more impressed with him. He served us all selflessly and is a true picture of the love that Christ has for His church. I think I may have fallen in love all over again :)

4. The flu is no fun, but it only attacks your body. My real illness is sin--the true sickness from which I need to healed. It is pervasive and it is fatal. Just like the flu knocked me down, sucked the life from my bones and robbed me of energy and rest and ease of mind, sin does the same to my soul. Enter Good News. I have been healed. The deadly soul flu that threatened to consume me has been removed. Christ suffered. He was stricken, smitten, and afflicted so I could be made well. I give him praise for the relief I feel in my body now that the virus is gone, but I fall to my knees and worship for the relief I have from my dead soul being brought to life.

5. There is not enough that can be said about the blessing of healthy children. It's frustrating to have to slow life down and deal with sickness, but I realize that after some medicine and rest, life will go back to normal. But about 30 minutes away from my house is one of the nation's biggest cancer treatment facilities for children. There are parents that are watching their children suffer, some with no promise of them ever recovering. I have been reminded to be so thankful for the health of my boys, to pray for those that face much scarier diseases, and to realize that even if God permits that which I fear most, He will be enough--in the flu, in cancer, in death--he is all we need.


We're still quarantined over here. Asher is fever free today for the first time in a week and Jude is still feeling pretty crummy. If Simeon could just get that second top tooth to break through, he'd be doing much better, too. I'm ready for things to get back to normal.

But I am thankful that God uses the flu to bring out about grateful hearts, the opportunity to serve and care for each other, and (Dear God please) one hell of a souped-up immune system.

Valentine's Day

It may surprise you to know that we don't really do much for Valentine's Day. Taken aback? Thought so.

This year, we had a Valentine's Day lunch and card exchange with a bunch of our friends the Friday before Valentine's Day (I almost abbreiviated it VD but it seemed kind of inappropriate.) It was very enjoyable for all the kids to give each other little treats and cards. It was simple--no fancy decor, flower arrangements, engraved invitation, bells, and/or whistles (well, as simple as a gathering of 11 or so moms and our 26 children can be.) We do chaos. It's our thing.

That was the major event surrounding this "holiday" so Monday was rather anticlimactic. I did make some heart-shaped pancakes because it seemed like an easy way to appear to be a really good mother. Someone questions my parenting, I just pull up this picture and say, "Do you like apples?"

"Well how you like them apples?"



Would a bad mother make heart-shaped pancakes for VD breakfast? I hardly think so.

I also made a pumpkin pie for my Mr. Rives. It's his favorite. I make the Martha Stewart recipe that has a shortbread crust so it's really easy--just a little time-consuming. He brought home some Pinot Grigio, cheese, and crackers because he knows my well-documented love of appetizer food. I'm thinking that will be dinner tonight. The kids should sleep well.

I'm not anti-Valentine's Day, I have decided. I've said it before and I'll say it again--I'm anti-hassle. There is nothing about receiving roses that have been marked up 150% and some mediocre chocolate and then going on out for dinner at a crowded restaurant that appeals to me. Because it's too much hassle. But easy, inexpensive, meaningful expressions of love for the people in my life that I absolutely adore? I can handle that.

In Which I Rip Off A Friend's Idea

My friend Shauna has a series of posts on her blog where she writes about something that is going on and then at the end, in parenthesis, she writes one word that sums up the emotion or mindset that it elicits. I haven't asked her permission, but I am going to rip off her idea now. Thank you, Shauna.

Simeon knows how to clap now! He claps for me as I change his diaper. He claps for his brothers as they play. He even clapped for our pastor on Sunday during his sermon. It's pretty cute I have to say. (*smitten)

~~I pump iron now...did you know that? Well I do. Which means I had to start tanning, perming my hair, and wearing black spandex shorts and socks. Ok, maybe not the last three, but I have been lifting weights for several months now. I started because I needed something I could do at the gym that wasn't time-sensitive, like a class would be. So I bought this book and have been working my way through the stages. I like lifting more than I thought I would. I don't get to do it as much as I need to and would like to, but I'm waiting until after cold and flu season to bring Simeon to the childcare center so I go when I can work it in after the kids are down or right after Kris gets home. But all this to say, it's not something I anticipated really enjoying but I do. It is a much more effective means of losing weight because you increase your body's ability to burn calories, even at rest. Paired with yoga, it seems to be a great combination for me. (*empowered)

~~I would like to be the proud owner of a "working closet." By that I mean, I want only stuff that I love and wear to be in there. So when I walk in to get dressed, I'm not bogged down by a bunch of stuff that I never wear or don't really like or that doesn't fit. Of course, my hobby for the past 4 years has been getting pregnant, getting fat, and losing weight so I obviously have quite the array of sizes. So that's a little bit of a problem because there are things I will be able to wear soon (see above) but not quite yet. The other problem is that you have to stay on top of the laundry situation. Many things don't get worn because they are dirty for long periods of time, then buried under layers of clothes on the floor of my closet and then I forget about them. Maybe I should work on being the proud owner of "clean laundry" first. (*realistic)

~~Please tell me you have downloaded this album. I can't stop listening to it. And they are coming to Houston in March. We are so there. (*obsessed)

~~My current list of "projects to make" includes but is not limited to:
>photo book on Kodak.com
>infinity scarf
>personalized messageboards for the boys room
>pillows
>case for Asher's guitar
>about 13 other things
But I just can't seem to make them happen. Maybe because I spend nap time writing insipid lists in attempt to revive my blog instead of doing something productive? (*distracted)

I sell Scentsy. Please see me for all your home-fragrancing needs. No one likes to be somewhere stinky. I can help.(*self-promoting)

Asher

"And Leah said, 'How happy I am! The women will call me happy!' So she named him Asher." Gen. 30:13

Kris is the one who suggested we name him Asher. I didn't love it immediately. Mainly because it was his idea and I thought the naming of the children should be my role. But something about it resonated with me. And when I learned it meant "happy" I was sold. As long as he would let me use Owen as his middle name because I just loved that name and because all good Reformed Presbyterians name their first born either Owen or Knox or Calvin.

So Asher Owen it was and I cannot think of a name meaning that would suit him better. He is a happy little guy indeed. And on Monday, he will be four.

And I feel the tug-of-war...pulling me into memories of my sweet little baby in one direction and into excited anticipation of all that lies before him as he continues to discover this wonderful, absurd world God has made. I gaze back into the past longing for those early days of simplicity and newness but then I am quickly jerked the other way, and am filled with joy as I watch him explore and learn and become. Happy-sad I am. Being a mom is to learn to embrace the paradox.

Oh Lord, if this is what gets stirred up in my at four, I may have to be checked in at some facility when he turns ten.

Oh, I really am excited. He will be very good at being four. He loves being independent. And as much I miss that chubby-cheeked little cherub of a baby, the big boy that can buckle his own seatbelt and dress himself and turn on the Disney Channel if I'm not quite ready to get up yet (I mean, I guess he could...if that ever were to happen...) is pretty nice to have around.

So go for it, Asher! Live up this whole "being four" business. You are done with "baby." You are big. Be brave and be strong. Ask and try and change. Love God. Serve others. Be thankful.

But stop this "mom" nonsense and let's stick with "mama" a little longer. My heart can only take so much.

The Stars At Night Are Big and Bright...

Please tell me you mentally clapped four times and then sang, "deep in the heart of Texas!"

There are a few reasons that I live in Texas. One of them is that I was born here and have never bothered to leave. Another is Tex-Mex food. Yet another is the weather. It's not amazing. I don't think you should move here for the balmy temperatures. Summer (and a big chunk of Spring and pretty much all of Fall) is rather hot and humid. But it's what I am used to. What I am not used to is extreme cold. And that is what we have right now. Part of it is that owning proper winter attire is just not practical. Owning lots of tanks and skirts and flip-flops--this is practical. Big puffy coats. Not only not practical, but unflattering as well. I will just stay inside.

In the book that I mentioned a few days ago, Loving the Little Years, Rachel Jankovic describes the state of her house by saying she feels like she is living at the bottom of a toaster. Have you ever heard a more apt description of a house full of small children? The crumbs. The sand. The unidentifiable ick. I'm no neat freak but in my next house I'm having industrial tile with drains spread throughout and we will just hose the floors down every night.

I'm loving this blog right now. I really like her aesthetic and her What I Wore Wednesday series is a lot of fun to look through. It's a great place to get a little inspiration for shopping your closet.

It's Wednesday night. This can only mean one thing. Half-price fajita night at Pappasito's. I will brave the extreme temperatures to go pick up some good Tex-Mex (see first paragraph.)

I am currently saving cereal boxes for this ministry. Will you save yours, too? And then will you either get them to me or mail them yourself. All the info you need is in the post I linked to.

Stay warm, y'all.

The Aftermath

Today we hosted "Bible Study" at our house today. "Sit on the couch and drink coffee while the children run amok" is really more like it, but I like to sound holy sometimes.

Today we had a small group. Before our group split into two groups, there were 10 moms and over 20 children under the age of 4. We all love each other and did not want to divide ourselves, but logistically, it was just not working out. So last year, we broke up into two smaller groups. Now, sometimes, we hear what the other moms are saying. Occasionally we complete sentences we start. It's great!

But today, just 3 moms and 8 kids. Here at my house. For about 2 hours. And as is the custom of our children regardless of whatever home we are at, there are toys and crumbs and sippy cups strewn from one end of the house to the other. There was laughter, shrieks, tears, and shouts. (The kids were kind of noisy, too.) My floor is no longer swept. I'm out of coffee. The playroom is a wreck.

And I sit here, I'm struck by the reality--I would have it no other way. It's all proof. Undeniable, incontrovertible evidence. We have been among friends. We are loved. Our homes and our things and our food are not just for looks--they are for filling up and using and sharing. I'm so thankful for these women in my life and the fact that we don't let the chaos scare us. We run headlong into it, because we know life may be messy together, but it's far better than lonely order.

So thank you Saige, Meadow, Reed, Cate, Asher, and Jude for the oatmeal raisin cookie crumbs that are everywhere (Evie and Simeon are off the hook for this one.) I needed reminding and it's amazing where reminders can be found.

But now I have to go sweep.

Happy Birthday, my Mr. Rives.

Don't you love that line in "Emma" where she says, "Now I need not call you Mr. Knightley. I may call you my Mr. Knightley." Mmmhmmm, me too.

So Kristopher is 36 today. I met him just a day or two after his 29th birthday. And I was 24. And now we are an old married couple. And I rather like it that way.

So I would like to wish the very happiest of birthdays to the guy that won the "How Much of Jamie's Crap Will You Put Up With?" contest. First prize: Jamie.

My Mr. Rives is my very favorite person in the whole world. I love him. And I am so thankful for the 36 years he has been given (particularly the last 7.)

It is his birthday. But he is the gift.

"Something." It's kinda like "all," but different.

So as I opened up the ol' netbook and gave some thought to posting, the tape (CD? mp3?) in my head started playing that song about how I have no good pictures and no clever ideas and no touching insights to share so I might as well not even blog.

But I'm really trying to do that thing where I do SOMETHING as opposed to NOTHING even if that SOMETHING is not EVERYTHING.

So without further ado, I give you...something.

The big boys are at Mamaw and Poppy's right now. When did their house get so fun? I grew up there and do not remember it being the enchanted land that it apparently is. This means that it has been just Simeon and me today because Kris was at his class all day (He is taking a systematic theology class at Reformed Theological Seminary Houston.)

Simeon totally did me a solid and slept until 8:45. I woke up at 8:30 and looked at the clock and panicked of course. I ran into his room and was relieved to hear his sweet little snore. So we ate breakfast and got ready to run a few errands. While running errands with one child seems like it would be easier than running errands with 3 children, if that one child is 7 months old and not, say, 4 years old, it's really not that much easier. Walking, unbuckling on your own, flexible eating schedule: these are the qualities of a good errand-running buddy. Simeon, while utterly adorable, is still rather high maintenance. But its fun to focus on just one kid. I enjoyed my day with him very much indeed.

We got to have dinner tonight with some friends that Kris has known for a long time but that I have only known through blogs and facebook up until now. We talked and laughed and exchanged stories. It was so refreshing and encouraging--exactly what Kris and I needed. They are heading back overseas soon so we are really grateful that we were able to catch up with them. This girl lives in a foreign land, has 5 kids (the youngest of which they adopted from Ethiopia), and homeschools. So she's basically my hero.

Incidentally, I was totally "that mom" tonight--you know the one who has her INFANT out way passed bedtime. The one whom I usually shake my head at and mentally comment on their irresponsible, selfish parenting. So I guess I'll stop that now.

Mamw's birthday was Thursday. Jude wanted to buy her a new train (the one from the Thomas series named "Molly" because that is Mamaw's name, you see.) Asher wanted to buy her a new laptop. But instead, we went to Target and they each picked out a small gift and helped me wrap them up. Asher personalized his:



"It's for Mamaw From Asher"

I tried to seize the teachable moment and discuss the use of apostrophes but I guess we'll work on word orientation first.

Boy Crazy

So the Masters Rives...it seems as though I should mention them. They are quickly growing and barely giving me time to catch my breath at one phase before we enter another. As at least one person feels compelled to tell me each time we go out, I have my hands full. It is usually said with a smirk or a chuckle or a tone of pity. But I assure you, even on my worst day, the idea of life in the alternative looms heavy over me and I give thanks. "Oh, you should see my heart," I tell them. "You don't even know full."




The youngest manchild I am currently rearing is Simeon James. He will be 7 months in 4 days. Does this completely blow anyone else's mind? Did I not just post about his birth. Granted that was only about 4 posts back, but it still seems unbelievable that he should be so old.



At this writing, he is in the middle of an unfortunate combination of a cold and teething. This means from about midnight to 5 in the morning, he sleeps a total of about an hour. The past two nights have been like this. He sucks his thumb, you see, so a stopped-up nose makes his normal nighttime guilty pleasure impossible. Which makes him MAD. Which makes him even more tired. We're all exhausted over here. But thanks be to God, this is the saddest news I have to report.

He sits up on his own fairly well but is still a little wobbly at times so I put the boppy around him. He loves the Johnny Jump Up and exersaucer. He adores his big brothers and finds them endlessly entertaining. I can eek out a few extra minutes of whatever I am doing by asking the boys to go talk to Simmy or make him laugh. He will do a little inchworm scoot to try to reach a toy but he scoots backwards so he's got a little work to do there. He loves to eat and so far has only turned his nose up at avocados. I cannot blame him because if my avocados aren't salted, cilantroed, and served on a tortilla chip, I don't care for them either.

I have no idea how long he is or how much he weighs. He is bigger than a breadbox. His thigh rolls give him away if his eyes don't--he is definitely a Rives boy!

The past two days not withstanding, he is a happy, smiley little(ish) thing. He babbles on and on. We call him "Simmy" or "Simmy J" or "Simmy Shake"(long story.)



The middle, misunderstood, sweet-as-pie, force-to-be-reckoned-with child is my Judah Kristopher (or Jude as he is called.) He is still inextricably connected to his "lovey" and resists all suggestions that perhaps he should reserve his thumb-sucking for bedtime. He loves trains and drums.

He is two and one half as of this month but has his sights set on three already. He is the most interesting, frustrating, baffling combination of tender and tough. Baby and Big Boy. Meaner than a snake yet first to share what he has or help a brother out. He keeps us on our toes suffice it to say.

His favorite things to say right now are "You pay wif me, Mama?" and "Here, I show you" and "I do it my own self." He still has a sweet "babyness" to his voice and I love to hear it. His favorite song is of course "Hey Jude" and he sings it quite well.



The eldest is Asher Owen. He will be 4 in just two weeks! He is a lot like his daddy--very intentional and sweet and prone to go get his guitar whenever he has a free moment. He is very sensitive I am learning how to best direct this (a challenge indeed.)He loves music (as does Jude) and is always staging concerts for anyone that will listen. He and Jude have constant disputes over the creative direction of their band.

He is typical first born--loves order and routine. Gets very agitated when those can't be found. He can write his name and loves to type notes on the iPod touch. He would prefer to eat every meal out and for friends to join us at these meals. Very social, that one.

Ok, I feel better now. The mom-guilt has been assuaged (as far as blogging goes.)

ALL or nothing

It's a poisonous way to live life. And yet, it's what I do in so many areas. Because I'm not The Pioneer Woman, I'm not going to even bother blogging. Because I'm not Ina Garten, I'm not going to even bother cooking adventurous meals. Because I'm not John Piper, I'm not going to even bother praying. Because I'm not Sandra McCracken, I'm not going to bother playing my guitar.

It makes sense in my head at the time. Behold, a syllogism:

The goal of everything should be perfection.
If you can't achieve perfection, you shouldn't even bother.
I shouldn't bother with anything hard because there is NO WAY I will be the best, thereby accomplishing my goal AND securing lots of accolades from onlookers (that of course being the secondary goal.)

Now, I'm no Aristotle, but I feel pretty safe in saying that this is not logical.

Why are you writing all this? Can't you just put up a picture of your kids and be done with it?

I could go on and on about this for years probably and never run out of things to say about how truly dysfunctional I am. But the reason this topic is on my mind is because of the book I started today called Loving the Little Years by Rachel Jankovic. Laura recommended it and after reading the sample, I quickly downloaded it. So many thought-provoking ideas have grabbed hold of my mind as I read. I'll save my book report for another post, but this is why I have been examining my "all-or-nothing" mentality today:

In her chapter called "In the Rock Tumbler" she begins be reminiscing about her rich spiritual life when she was in junior high. All the spiritual disciplines came so easily and so joyfully. I think about the time in my life that was like that. Bascially anytime prior to becoming a wife and a mother. Basically when all I had to think about was me. Basically when I lived a self-centered exsistence that naturally lended itself to uninterupted prayer times and painted toenails and meeting up for coffee with friends. I don't mean I never struggled or dealt with lack of desire for the things of God, but I had the luxury of only having to worry about my sin. My problems. My needs.

The author compares this to a rock being refined in a gentle, slow-flowing river. Yeah, the rock is being smoothed out but the change takes a long time. There's not a lot of resistence or struggle, but there's not a lot of growth either. It's sweet. It's refreshing. But it is not where sanctification gets its hands dirty and scoops out that corruption.

But things changed. For me, it happened by God sending a husband and children into my world. When this occurred, I was thrilled of course (and still am!) But, as Mrs. Jankovic puts it, your rock is taken out of the serene, gentle stream and placed into a rock tumbler. It's loud and disorienting and jarring. It's dirty in there. You get hit a lot. But, by God, you are changed!

Seriously, your kids are cute. Just upload a picture of Asher playing his guitar and call it a day.

Here's where I'm going. I spend a great amount of mental energy wishing I was more spiritual, beating myself up for not being more disciplined, and wistfully longing for the days when I could read my bible and have my quiet time, and spend meaningful time in prayer without having to accomodate anyone else's needs or schedules. I am comparing life in a stream to life in a tumbler. And then, in my all-or-nothing fallacy-based mindset, I reason that since life can't be like it was in the stream, then why even bother?

But you know what I forgot? That I don't change me. All the faithful practices in the world will not change me. Of course God uses those means, but if he places me in a stage of life where I have the time and stamina for a few desperate words of prayer and a chapter or two of Scripture, then I can trust that He will do all that needs to be done with that meager offering.

But instead, I blow it off all together most days. Because I can't do the "all" that I have decided I must do. But the reality is, I am being changed. In this season that appears to be the least spiritual, the most removed from time with God, He is actually doing the most in me I think.

And probably, one day, I'll get put back in that peaceful river. Much smoother, much more polished than the young stones around me. And I will let them know that God is here, but He will be even closer in the tumbler.

Why, Hello There.

**tap, tap, tap**

Is this thing on?

Hello, my beloved readers. I'm assuming you have all been clicking refresh on your browsers since November just praying for a new post to pop up. Well click no longer, dear ones. I refuse to put off the outpouring of verbal creativity that has welled up within my soul, lo, these many weeks.

Or maybe Cheryl has updated her freaking blog three times in the past three days and I don't like to be outdone.

The only problem is...I'm not sure where I want this blog to go. I can't deny the mommy blog-ness that goes on here. I have incredible brilliant children so I must from time to time fill you in on all the terribly impressive things they do and say. But I'm not sure I have found my niche yet.

I'm not a photographer so a hip blog full of my well-edited pictures is out. Most of my craft projects turn out looking like I was drunk and blindfolded while doing them. I do cook, but only out of societal pressure to conform to my gender role. So there goes the crafting and cooking genre. I love Jesus, but dear God, I'm afraid you need to be a little less cynical before you write a weekly devotional blog. I enjoy exercise, particularly yoga, but what's say I drop this last 15 before I try to knock Jillian Michaels off her throne.

So where does this leave me? Not sure. I shall continue to ponder this.

In the meantime, I'll just complain about a few things. This I feel equipped to do.

Let's start off with what must be the biggest thing happening on the planet right now because I swear it's all that was on the news this morning...The Trenta. Yes, 31 ounces is a lot. Yes, it will probably cost $5 after tax. Yes, our population is overweight and we drink too many empty calories and blah, blah, blah. There is a demand and Starbucks is supplying and that's what makes this little system we all enjoy so much go round and round. So if it offends your moral and ethical sensibilities to be in the presence of such blatant gluttony, brew your coffee at home and shut up.

So I really like being in my thirties. I feel more confident and less prone to be affected by the drama that begins in jr. high and never goes away. I think there is a "coming in to yourself" (I don't know what that even means, but go with me here) that happens, slowly but surely, and it's nice. You still envy those people in their twenties that always dress cute and get to do amazing things, like sleep, but on the whole, I wouldn't go back to those days. But for crying out loud, what is up with the dark under-eye circles? I mean, come on! Whatever the switch is that flips and makes weight loss so much more fun in your thirties also controls the pigment of the skin below your eyes apparently. Concealer is no longer optional if I would like to appear, oh I don't know...like I haven't been in a fight? I'm not a fan. Notatall.

My neighbors have a goat. As a pet. That they walk. I think this is weird.

Ok, that's enough complaining for now.

So bear with me as I figure out what this blog is. I've narrowed it down to nothing hip, creative, enviable, or impressive.

And for crying out loud, Cheryl, don't post tomorrow. This is exhausting.

And Now It Is November

One post for October. Pitiful. I guess if I were keeping a baby book or making some sort of scrapbook, neglecting the blog might not be that big of a deal. Oh the pressure.

Well let's get started, shall we? We've lived a lot of life in these past few weeks and I have some incredibly mediocre pictures to prove it.

We visited Oil Ranch with some friends. Places like that have the potential to be way more trouble than they are worth, but I have to say that it was a really enjoyable experience. Asher and Jude loved getting to ride ponies and feed farm animals and ride the train. Simeon didn't seem to mind it too much either.

First up: The pony rides! I don't want to brag, but look at that form. Textbook. Those boys mounted that saddle and made that relatively small loop with poise and style. Even when the saddle came loose on Jude's pony and he was practically parallel with the ground, Cowboy Jude held on and finished his ride. Giddy up.



Next up:The hay ride: What you would expect up until the driver pulls off to a small area where cows are hanging out waiting to be fed. By the people on the hay ride. These are not bashful cows that don't want to appear too anxious. They know the drill. They stick their enormous heads right in your lap and you give them cow food. Got that? It's been about 15 minutes since the last hay ride came through so don't make them wait either.


The final activity: pumpkin selection. You DO NOT want to make the wrong choice. Thoughtfully peruse each one until the orange squash that God permitted to exist just so it could find its way into your grimy little hands jumps out at you.

Whew. Well done, boys. That was a close one.

That evening, we went to Mamaw and Poppy's so that Asher and Jude could attend their very first football game. Asher had been wanting to go one for a while so we headed out to Hamshire. Where the boys watched clothes dry. Loads of fun (with a wit only matched by her beauty.)



Incidentally, Jude opted out of the football game and stayed at home with Mamaw and Simmy and me. He decided it would be more fun to lie in bed and watch Nick Jr. which was definitely one of my prouder moments as a mother. Asher, Poppy, and Kris went and it was reported that a good time was had by all.

Oh, sweet Simeon. He is adored by us all. He smiles at everybody. He plays contentedly by himself. He eats and sleeps well. And all I can say about that is, "THANK YOU, GOD!"

We took our traditional pumpkin patch pictures. We got there a little late and didn't have enough light left to take the requisite 500 pictures in order to get 1 or 2 good ones. But I think this one does a good job of capturing the moment.



(Thankfully my friend Chris met us out there a few day later and got some cute ones.)

Ok, I'm exhausted now. More blogging later. Pinky swear.

And now for The October Post

Remember when I blogged more than once a month? Yeah, me neither.

So here is Simeon. He is 3 months now.



He's chunking up. As all Bobbitt/Rives babies are wont to do.




I feel like I should write more. So let's see what happens...

Did you know Blue (the one with the Clues) is a girl? I did not. I saw a cute Blue costume at a consignment store today and it was just Jude's size. They have recently discovered Blue's Clues thanks to Netflix and really like it. So I asked Jude if he wanted to be Blue, and of course, he did. And then Asher said, "And I can be Steve because he takes care of Blue!" Deal Sealed. Coordinating costumes (which is imperative)and thoughtfulness (which is rare.) But then I dicovered Blue is female. Please don't tell Jude. Or Kris.

But now that I think about it, Asher was a fireman last year and Jude was his dalmation. This will probably come up in therapy one day.

I read an incredible book recently--Notes from the Tilt-a-Whirl by N.D. Wilson (son of Doug Wilson.) He places his writing in the genre of "creative non-fiction" and his style really resonated with me. First of all, he is, as a friend of mine put it, "dripping with sarcasm." But since sarcasm happens to be my primary love language, I ate it up. So if dry wit and well-placed foul language is not yor cup of tea, you probably won't love it. He observes the world with wide-eyed wonder and writes about it with a philosophical, yet completely approachable perspective. He moves through the four seasons pointing out the humor, paradoxes, mysteries, and brilliance that are God's trademarks. His writing is very "stream-of-consciouness," but it only adds to the way that the book challenges your preconceived ideas about what God does and how He does it. I loved it.

I do not like fantasy stories. I don't mind reading books where the author creates circumstances that are highly unlikely but possibly realistic, but fairy stories where elves and hobbits (yes, I said it) and vampires are the main characters, I'm just not that in to. But creative non-fiction--that draws me in. And there doesn't seem to be a lot of that.

So...read any good books lately? Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry is on my nightstand now.

2 months

Three's A Crowd

This is one loved little baby! If Simeon is awake, the poor child has someone laying by him (or on him), kissing him, holding him, or dragging him by the foot across the room (Mama was catching up on facebook and perhaps should have glanced up from her computer more frequently.)

We are about to begin week 7 with our youngest and we are finally getting to that "Ok, I think we're going to make it" stage. Simeon is sleeping...um, better shall we say? Nothing to brag about, but enough that I can function. He's napping in his crib and getting his own sweet self to sleep. Sorry kids, but I'm a "a little crying never hurt anybody" kind of mom.

Kris is back at work. I had 6 wonderful weeks of help from my amazing husband. But we like bacon around here so somebody's got to bring it home.

Jude turned 2 a few weeks ago. We had a little family party at my parents' house and Jude kept up the tradition begun by Asher of puking at your 2nd birthday party. Other than that, it was a great party. Lots of Thomas the Train paraphernalia and outside toys were bestowed upon young Jude--a happy little 2 year old that did make.

Kris finished the deck! He outdid himself. He really should think twice about doing such awesome work because all that does it make the little mental list I keep for him in my head grow longer. Oh the plans I have for him now. Pics to come soon! I can't wait for more mild weather so we can really enjoy it.

One last picture of Simmy (as Jude has nicknamed him.)



So sweet!

Simeon James Rives

Well, it's true what they say--third time is a charm. For this delivery, the baby was breathing and I was conscious. Mission: Accomplished.

Simeon James made his grand entrance at 7:53 on the morning of June 28. He was a whopping 6 lb. 12 oz. and 20 inches--which is how long Big Bro Jude was, but Jude weighed 2 lbs. more.



The anesthesiologist had a little problem finding the right spot for my spinal block, but no where near the trouble the last guy had so I was most grateful for that. She got it going and after a little anti-nausea medicine, I was good to go. Dr. Plummer got to work doing God knows what behind that curtain and a few minutes later, Little Bit came out screaming his little lungs out. Best. sound. ever.



That is the picture I have been wanting...mainly because Kris looks so hot in his shower cap.

Kris went with Simeon to the nursery to get cleaned up and to make sure that they brought him back to me ASAP so I could nurse him. I will say attempting that after major abdominal surgery was a little precarious, but by God's grace, we did it!

While Simeon was back there, he got to meet his very first friend, James. His mom, Laura, and I are very good friends and were so happy to deliver our boys on the same day in the same hospital.



We spent this first day together--just the 3 of us.



We asked that friends and family wait until the second day to come meet our little guy so we could have some time to spend just focusing on Simeon and on getting a good start on nursing.

So the big brothers waited until Tuesday to come up and visit their new baby. They were so excited and looked super cute in their shirts made by my friend Becca at Too Cute Creations (pics of all 3 in their shirts coming soon!)





And although it appears that Jude is about to whack his new brother, he was really just reaching out to touch him. Jude has actually been really gentle with him. If you know Jude at all, you are just as surprised as we are.



Here are a few of Sweet Simeon. I will refrain from making pronouncements about his temperment until he is a little older. Or at least until all the narcotics are out of my breastmilk. But he really is a sweet baby. He has a precious little look with his big eyes and tiny little face.

The day we left the hospital


Daddy and Simeon


After his spongebath


Simeon and me( sporting my "I have a newborn" hairdo)


Check out those guns.


Our little family of five is doing well. Thankfully, it is summer so Daddy is home with us for a few more weeks so I won't feel the full impact of being a mom of three until then. We are enjoying our time together and this way-too-long, way-too-short season.

Photo Shoot

Click here to see our pictures!