Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Family of four
We had family photos taken back in April when John was two weeks old, just like we did when Will was born.
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Loving easy
I love easy.
No, really. I really love easy.
A pack of nabs, wrinkle-free clothes, crock pots, auto-draft, evites.
And sleeping in. Oh, and staying home. And letting somebody else. You know what I mean. Just letting somebody else.
Who's with me?
About three months ago, my love affair with easy took a downturn. Don't get me wrong. I'm still infatuated with easy. Daily I fight for easy.
But I've realized therein is my problem.
Precious baby John joined the Thomsen ranks behind two-year-old brother Will back in April, and easy took a vacation. A long one. In fact, I'm not sure if easy is coming back.
Now again, let me disclaim this entire post: If it sounds like complaining, forgive me. I don't intend it to. If it sounds ungrateful, or selfish, or whatever the adjective is, go ahead and think it. If it sounds like true confessions of a woman whose profession (motherhood) is challenging her beyond her wildest imagination, then hear me out. We're tracking.
We took a three-day family vacation to Hilton Head this week. After crawling back up into the front seat at midnight on the drive home from consoling John in the inferno, straight-jacket, torture-chair contraption otherwise known as a car seat (his words, not mine), I bemoaned to Ryan:
I mulled over his comment the rest of the drive home.
The next day (the day after vacation, which by the way, I hereby declare to be Dooms Day), Will put grass in the lawnmower's gas tank, John cried, Will spilled his apple juice (three times?), John cried, Will pooped and stuck his hand in his diaper, John cried, Will climbed out of his crib, onto the window sill, and broke the blinds in his bedroom when he was supposed to be napping. And John cried.
Later that night, I crawled into my bed, got out my Bible (was that dust on it?), and joined John in his favorite past time.
I only had a few minutes, but in the quiet, the sweet Holy Spirit met with me:
No, really. I really love easy.
A pack of nabs, wrinkle-free clothes, crock pots, auto-draft, evites.
And sleeping in. Oh, and staying home. And letting somebody else. You know what I mean. Just letting somebody else.
Who's with me?
About three months ago, my love affair with easy took a downturn. Don't get me wrong. I'm still infatuated with easy. Daily I fight for easy.
But I've realized therein is my problem.
Precious baby John joined the Thomsen ranks behind two-year-old brother Will back in April, and easy took a vacation. A long one. In fact, I'm not sure if easy is coming back.
Now again, let me disclaim this entire post: If it sounds like complaining, forgive me. I don't intend it to. If it sounds ungrateful, or selfish, or whatever the adjective is, go ahead and think it. If it sounds like true confessions of a woman whose profession (motherhood) is challenging her beyond her wildest imagination, then hear me out. We're tracking.
We took a three-day family vacation to Hilton Head this week. After crawling back up into the front seat at midnight on the drive home from consoling John in the inferno, straight-jacket, torture-chair contraption otherwise known as a car seat (his words, not mine), I bemoaned to Ryan:
I don't think I'm cut out for newborns. I do everything I know to do. I've switched formulas five times, I've put the pacy back a thousand, I've bounced, I've rocked, I've walked, I've swayed, I've worn, I've strolled, I've burped, I've swaddled, I've vacuumed, I've darkened, I've medicated, I've read, I've literally typed "Does it get easier?" into Google, I've cried, I've thrown my hands up. Meanwhile, friends on Facebook are posting their home made dinner menus for the week, pictures of their kids reading during home school and other pictures of their newborns napping in strollers at the pool. (Babies do that?)
Does anyone else have this problem but me?
Newborns are unpredictable. I don't like unpredictable. Newborns are just impossible to figure out!
Newborns aren't easy.In his usual cool, unintentionally insightful way, Ryan responded, "But don't you like a challenge?"
I mulled over his comment the rest of the drive home.
The next day (the day after vacation, which by the way, I hereby declare to be Dooms Day), Will put grass in the lawnmower's gas tank, John cried, Will spilled his apple juice (three times?), John cried, Will pooped and stuck his hand in his diaper, John cried, Will climbed out of his crib, onto the window sill, and broke the blinds in his bedroom when he was supposed to be napping. And John cried.
Later that night, I crawled into my bed, got out my Bible (was that dust on it?), and joined John in his favorite past time.
I only had a few minutes, but in the quiet, the sweet Holy Spirit met with me:
Stop loving easy.
Stop craving comfort. Stop waiting for each day to "get better." Stop complaining about the job being hard. (And stop being surprised when it is.) Stop wondering when it will end. Stop striving for convenience.
Work hard, with love and gratitude, and stop loving easy.
It was like I got hit in the head with a two by four, except much better. The Holy Spirit enlightened my heart to a sweet reality. I was convicted (still am), but it felt wonderful.
Ending my love affair with easy means I get to begin one with rewarding. I get to meet strength and perseverance coming from a place I know isn't me.
The day after the day after vacation (Redemption Day), John seemed to cry a little less. Or maybe it was just because I quit expecting him not to.
Perspective changes everything.
By the power of the One who never once loved easy (the Cross, hello), I'm putting an end to my love affair. May I love rewarding, may I love persevering, may I love His presence at work in me, but may I never settle for loving easy again.
 |
| They're worth it. |
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Honcrete mixer!!!!
Toddler language. It's a beautiful, hilarious thing.
Lest I ever forget Will's unique twist on the English language, I'm recording some of his more famous sayings in this post.
Man, I'm going to miss these one day.
my-new-it -- I'll do it (there's a reason this one is first)
logurt -- yogurt
birthday cake -- all pastries
check you -- the must-say words before leaving his room at naps and night. Means "check on me"
new peeti -- his beloved green pacy
crarrots -- carrots (for feeding the horses)
burberry juice -- cranberry juice
two-hands-cup -- a non-sippy cup
tractor holding -- what's the tractor holding? (whether in the car or on TV, this phrase is repeated multiple times every day)
honcrete mixer!!!! -- concrete mixer; yelled with much enthusiasm in the car every time we see one
I don't wanna like this -- I don't like this
ebelator -- elevator
Will's favorite things at 2 and 1/2:
Baby John
His electric john deere tractor
Oatmeal
Cereal
Watching "new dump trucks" (YouTube videos of real-live dump trucks)
Treats (blame mommy)
Feeding the horses
Swinging
"Gampa" coming over
Playing with trucks in the dirt
Baby John post up next!
Lest I ever forget Will's unique twist on the English language, I'm recording some of his more famous sayings in this post.
Man, I'm going to miss these one day.
my-new-it -- I'll do it (there's a reason this one is first)
logurt -- yogurt
birthday cake -- all pastries
check you -- the must-say words before leaving his room at naps and night. Means "check on me"
new peeti -- his beloved green pacy
crarrots -- carrots (for feeding the horses)
burberry juice -- cranberry juice
two-hands-cup -- a non-sippy cup
tractor holding -- what's the tractor holding? (whether in the car or on TV, this phrase is repeated multiple times every day)
honcrete mixer!!!! -- concrete mixer; yelled with much enthusiasm in the car every time we see one
I don't wanna like this -- I don't like this
ebelator -- elevator
Will's favorite things at 2 and 1/2:
Baby John
His electric john deere tractor
Oatmeal
Cereal
Watching "new dump trucks" (YouTube videos of real-live dump trucks)
Treats (blame mommy)
Feeding the horses
Swinging
"Gampa" coming over
Playing with trucks in the dirt
Baby John post up next!
Friday, June 5, 2015
Baby John
I am filled with the spirits of affection, as my mother used to say.
John Daniel Thomsen was born April 11 at 5:27 pm, weighing 7.13 pounds.
I had heard countless times that second babies usually come quicker than the first. John was no exception, and it turns out this is the first of many things he has done differently from his brother.
John was due April 7, and whoever told me the cruelest thing doctors do is give pregnant women a due date was right. My mental calendar ran out on the 7th. For those next four days, I was certain every hiccup was the beginning of labor. I was afraid to call anyone for fear of it being mistaken as The Call. I packed my hospital bag fuller and fuller.
Mild contractions did finally begin Friday night, but I was too afraid of crying wolf to say anything. (Maybe if I kept quiet they'd really start!) I slept through the night, and by 9 am on Saturday the contractions were painful but still ten minutes apart. Will was at Grandma's, so I bounced on the exercise ball, tried to watch a movie, and mentally determined that I would not call the doctor until the contractions were closer. This was after all my second time at this -- I knew the ropes.
By around 2 pm, the contractions quickly picked up speed. I called the doctor on call, and he said I could come on to the hospital and get checked. (I remember thinking this last time, but there ought to be a siren or a flag or something you hang out your car window when you're headed to the hospital in labor. Red lights and labor pains don't mix.)
We got to Rex and were in a room by 3:30. As planned, the first thing I did was ask for the epidural. And could she rush it?
We need to check you first, said Peggy the nurse. I bet you're 9cm.
To which I said, No way. Other women get to the hospital at 9cm. Not me. Just get me my epidural, and we'll all be fine.
Wouldn't you know, I was 9cm.
I've never felt such a feeling of pride and horror at the same time.
I can still have the epidural, right?!
Dear nurse Peggy rushed like her pants were on fire to get me the blessed epidural. The anesthesiologist walked in the room, did his job, and I waited for the relief.
And waited.
Peggy put an ice pack on my leg: Do you feel this?
Oh how I wished I didn't.
Dear nurse Peggy called the anesthesiologist back, and the moment he darkened the door, baby John started making his way. I can still see that doctor out of the corner of my eye make a 180 degree turn and leave the room. No use for him anymore.
I seriously have to do this without pain meds!?!
Oh dear nurse Peggy and Dr. Alvarez. Doctors and nurses, for all of their medical skills and knowledge, are first and foremost cheerleaders. Or they should be. Those two were.
A few moments into it, the thought hit me: I don't have a choice. I have to do this. Let's just get it over with!
And fifteen minutes later, John was born.
My cup overflows.
[More pics:]
John Daniel Thomsen was born April 11 at 5:27 pm, weighing 7.13 pounds.
I had heard countless times that second babies usually come quicker than the first. John was no exception, and it turns out this is the first of many things he has done differently from his brother.
John was due April 7, and whoever told me the cruelest thing doctors do is give pregnant women a due date was right. My mental calendar ran out on the 7th. For those next four days, I was certain every hiccup was the beginning of labor. I was afraid to call anyone for fear of it being mistaken as The Call. I packed my hospital bag fuller and fuller.
Mild contractions did finally begin Friday night, but I was too afraid of crying wolf to say anything. (Maybe if I kept quiet they'd really start!) I slept through the night, and by 9 am on Saturday the contractions were painful but still ten minutes apart. Will was at Grandma's, so I bounced on the exercise ball, tried to watch a movie, and mentally determined that I would not call the doctor until the contractions were closer. This was after all my second time at this -- I knew the ropes.
By around 2 pm, the contractions quickly picked up speed. I called the doctor on call, and he said I could come on to the hospital and get checked. (I remember thinking this last time, but there ought to be a siren or a flag or something you hang out your car window when you're headed to the hospital in labor. Red lights and labor pains don't mix.)
We got to Rex and were in a room by 3:30. As planned, the first thing I did was ask for the epidural. And could she rush it?
We need to check you first, said Peggy the nurse. I bet you're 9cm.
To which I said, No way. Other women get to the hospital at 9cm. Not me. Just get me my epidural, and we'll all be fine.
Wouldn't you know, I was 9cm.
I've never felt such a feeling of pride and horror at the same time.
I can still have the epidural, right?!
Dear nurse Peggy rushed like her pants were on fire to get me the blessed epidural. The anesthesiologist walked in the room, did his job, and I waited for the relief.
And waited.
Peggy put an ice pack on my leg: Do you feel this?
Oh how I wished I didn't.
Dear nurse Peggy called the anesthesiologist back, and the moment he darkened the door, baby John started making his way. I can still see that doctor out of the corner of my eye make a 180 degree turn and leave the room. No use for him anymore.
I seriously have to do this without pain meds!?!
Oh dear nurse Peggy and Dr. Alvarez. Doctors and nurses, for all of their medical skills and knowledge, are first and foremost cheerleaders. Or they should be. Those two were.
A few moments into it, the thought hit me: I don't have a choice. I have to do this. Let's just get it over with!
And fifteen minutes later, John was born.
My cup overflows.
[More pics:]
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| Dr. Alvarez |
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| Nurse Peggy |
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| April 11, 2015: The day my second baby was born and my first baby became big. |
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| John's "gifts" to Will |
 |
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| Hospitals have great dirt |
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| Proof John has endured much abuse from his brother since Day 1... |
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| ...and a lot of love... |
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| ...a whole lot of love. |
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