Theresa Ellen

Funny how things don't go the way you think they do.  Of course, that means God is up in heaven chuckling away...at you...because it's always HIS plan, and not yours. 

This whole pregnancy has been like that, so I should have know our baby girl's birth would be anything but normal. I delivered Christina and Gabriel at 37 1/2 weeks.  So by Feb. 9th, we were all on bated breath, thinking our little one would come any time.  Well, we got to Sunday, Feb. 13, and no baby yet.  David told me every morning, "Well, I got to sleep through the night."  I'm notorious for going into labor in the middle of the night, and David always teases me about it. ;-)

I kept telling myself, "Okay, we just wait."  I was very uncomfortable by now.  I didn't even make it to Mass on Sunday, I just felt miserable.  I was sleeping okay, but my whole body hurt.  Over the weekend, I took to walking our block, once, twice, three times.  On Sunday, I walked it 4 times (although not all at once).  I wasn't sure it would start labor, but I couldn't bear to lie down or sit on the couch anymore. 

Monday morning, I was exhausted.  It had taken me a couple of hours to go to sleep the night before.  And of course, I lost track of how many times I'd had to get up and go to the bathroom.  I asked David if he could get the kids off to school, and he said yes.  So I lay in bed.  It was about 7:00 o'clock, and I was have a few strong contractions, but didn't really think too much of it.  I'd been having contractions on and off all weekend. 

David and the kids were on their way out the door (by now, it was 7:30).  All of a sudden, I heard and felt a big "pop."  It sounded just like a bottle of wine being uncorked.  I called to David and said,

"Honey, you'd better come back after you get the kids to the bus stop!" 

"Okay!!!"

By the time David got back, I confirmed what I'd suspected.  My water had broke.  I told David,

"It's time!"  (Oh, and by the way, you did get a full night's sleep, so you can't complain this time.)

By now, my adrenaline was kicking in.  I got up, showered, and was dressed in record time.  David went to get our babysitter, and by 9:30, we were on our way to the hospital.  Once there, I was observed for about an hour, and then they took me to a labor and delivery room.  Only then did it really occur to us that unless labor was really long, we would be having a Valentine's Day baby.  Awesome. 

My OB/GYN, Dr. M came in about an hour later.  He said,

"Well, what's the plan Miss Kimberly?"  I love Dr. M. 

I told him I was ready to have a baby, and to "hook me up," meaning I was ready for the pitocin and epidural.  My contractions were managable, but I just wanted to get it over with.  Usually, I wait and hold out for as long as I can...I don't like the side effects from the epidural (the shaking, slightly sick feeling, etc.).  But not this time.  I was ready. 

So, by about 1:30, I had the pitocin and epidural.  By 3:20, I was dilated to 8 cm.  (I walked in at a 3).  I was quite surprised it was going so fast!  The nurse I had told me to call her when I started feeling pressure.  Well, that didn't take long...David called her back only 20 minutes later.  Sure enough I was 10 cm dilated, and ready to push.  Dr. M was summoned, and he was there 10 minutes later. 

I love teasing Dr. M.  When Christina was born, she was coming pretty quickly and they'd paged him 2x.  I wasn't even pushing, but she was coming all on her own.  So by the time Dr. M got there, he had to scrub in quick, because she was born barely 10 minutes later.  Ever since then, I tell him, "Now, when they page you, you'd better run, because you almost didn't make it that one time!"  Of course, Dr. M says he was there in plenty of time.  Sure...

David and I thought we'd have the baby by 4:30, but things were progressing so fast, I changed my estimate to 4:15.  I pushed 3 times, and our sweet baby girl arrived at exactly 4:11PM. 

Theresa Ellen Reisinger

February 14, 2011

7 pounds, 9 ounces, 19 inches

I was overjoyed when she was placed in my arms.  She was perfect in every way, from the light dusting of pale brown hair on her head to the tips of her wee toes.  And of course, she scored straight 9's on her Apgar scores.  That's our girl. ;-)

All the kids came up to the hospital and wanted to hold their baby sister.  Even my big, 11 year old boy demanded a turn, which brought tears to my eyes. 

We are still adjusting to having a baby in the house again, but Theresa is settling in nicely, and all the kids are adjusting fairly well.  Gabriel is the official diaper helper, Joshua is putting a couple of extra chores, and the girls mostly fight over whose turn it is to hold Theresa. ;-)

As for me, I feel pretty good.  Tired, but it is blissful to hold a tiny babe again, and even though my jolt of reality hits at around 2:00 AM, God's graces that are giving me strength. 

So we are lovin' on our little sweetheart we got for Valentine's Day.  I'll try to post more later. 

Almost Time

It's almost time folks. 

We've broken out the nursery furniture...thankfully we didn't sell everything at that garage sale 2 years ago. 

Tiny little pink clothes have been washed and folded. 

Christina picked this outfit for the baby to come home in.  I'd say she has excellent taste. ;-)

Wonderful friends have loaned us assorted baby items...God bless them!  I can't tell you how amazing that has been. 

Blankets have been made...I made these a few months ago before I knew I'd be too uncomfortable to sit at the sewing machine.

People are starting to ask me if I'm ready.  Um...yes, I think so.  We certainly don't need anything else for the baby...even Christina looked in the nursery today, and said,

"Mommy, I don't think the baby needs anything else!"

"I sure hope not honey, we have just what we need, don't we?"

Then the next question is, okay...but are YOU ready???

You know...mentally, I'm there.  And even if I'm not...God will take us the rest of the way.  This pregnancy, I have a million things running through my head, but physically, I am slow to get there.  I guess I'm just too tired and pregnant to take care of it right away.  (You've probably noticed I'm not blogging much these days either).  Usually, I have to get a task done the minute I think about it, but not this time.  My spiritual guide says that's not a bad thing...it means I'm allowing God to take over.  And so He is...and I honestly don't mind one bit. 

 It helps having a truly wonderful husband who has done anything and everything this go around.  When I've had enough of a day, he asks if there is anything he can do to help.  Just asking that question makes my heart swell with love for him, because I know he cares.  David has taken over numerous times now when he gets home from work, doing dishes, finishing up homework, getting the kids to bed, rubbing my back, encouraging me to go soak in the tub or take a nap. 

About a week ago, David called me from work, and told me he'd arranged to take 3 weeks off from work after the baby is born.  I tried my darndest to talk him down to 2 weeks...I really felt like he couldn't afford to take that much time off.  Unlike his previous employer, he doesn't get paternity leave now, and he have to use a combination of sick days and vacation time.  My sweet hubby told me firmly,

"I know you really need me when you have a new baby.  And I want to take the time off.  Don't worry about it...I've made my decision."

Wow.  I hung up the phone and cried a bit.  Just because. 

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.  I am one lucky gal. "Lucky" isn't even the right word..."extremely blessed" is probably what I should have said. 

So...we have about 4 weeks to go.  Technically, the baby is due February 28th, but I delivered Gabriel and Christina 2 1/2 weeks early, so my doctor is fairly confident I'll do the same thing this time. 

I'll be ready. ;-)  I am already having plenty of Braxton-Hicks contractions...so I think our little girl will be ready too. 

Merry Christmas!

From all of us to all of you...

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

David, Kimberly, Joshua, Rebecca, Christina, and Gabriel

Thanksgiving Highlights

I love Thanksgiving.  Just love it.  Probably because I grew up overseas for so many years, and we didn't have family to celebrate with.  That all certainly changed once I married David.  When we gather for Thanksgiving at my SIL's house, there are usually 15 kids, ages 14-3, and about the same number of adults.  So it is crazy fun, and it took me a while to get used to the controlled chaos, but now...I just watch the proceedings and enjoy it all.

I thought I would make a list this of this year's highlights.

2.  Seeing David's Grandpa at my MIL's house Wednesday night.  He flew in from Phoenix to be with us for Thanksgiving.  He's 93 years old, and he stays busy going to the senior's center every day and quilting.  Yes...quilting.  Grandma Lanphear made a Christmas quilt for every one of my kids, and Grandpa has taken over since she passed away in 2006.  He's made one for our new baby due in February and gave it to me that night.  Awesome.

3.  Chatting and helping the rest of the ladies get the Thanksgiving meal on the table.  We always have 20 pound plus turkey (and a ham this year), dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, rolls, maybe a green vegetable, and at least 3 different desserts.  Honestly, all I did was whisk the gravy and make scalloped corn because nearly everything else was ready by the time we arrived.  This year's feast was exceptionally good.  Our Rebecca got in line with the rest of the kids for desserts.  She ate it so fast, she got back in line and was able to get seconds before the grownups started.  Man...she's good.  ;-)

4.  Friday we had our first chili "cook off" between my BIL Peter and myself.  It is admittedly fun to tease Peter...he can talk smack, and I can dish back out to him.  Anyways, he's a pretty darn good cook.  So we both made a batch of chili and cornbread, and the family gathered again at Peter and Stephanie's house to eat and vote on their favorite.  My chili got 11 votes...I win!!!

5.  I loved watching my kids play with their cousins.  Mary, Rebecca, Christina, Sofia and Abby were holed up in Mary's room for hours, doing goodness knows what.  Nick and Joshua played on the computer together and argued over the TV remote (of course).  Gabriel, John, and Daniel were completely engrossed in the train set for most of the weekend, or joined the bigger boys (Adam, Andrew, George, and Joey) playing outside, or wacking each other with nerf swords.  At one point, the Twister game was pulled out, and I sat on the couch laughing at their moves...it was so funny!

     My MIL insistes on a picture of all the grandkids every year.  And every year, the sofa gets a bit more crowded.  Here's a pic of everyone...we are missing Ben (he lives in Boston with David's sister and our BIL). 

Back row:  Adam, Andrew, Grandpa, Joshua, Grandma, George, Mary, Abby, and Rebecca

Front row:  Nick, Sofia, Joey, Daniel, Gabriel, John, Great Grandpa, and Christina

6.  David and I when over to our friend Rachel's house, where we also met up with Jim.  Both are old friends' of David's from high schools, but I've been dubbed "the 4th Muskeeter" since I married David.  We stayed up until past midnight, talking, laughing, and drinking spiked tea (except me of course).  I begged both of them to please come visit us here in Houston soon. 

7.  We headed back home on Saturday, stopping at a Braum's for lunch.  Gabriel pitched a FIT when David tried to get him to share a double scoop ice cream cup with Christina.  Well, he was having none of it, he wanted his own.  I guess it was a good thing we did...Christina ate ALL of her ice cream.  I was sure she wouldn't be able to finish it, but she did.  And Gabriel got his cup all to himself.  I can't blame him. ;-)

8.  And finally, coming home and unloading the van...we always come back with 3x more stuff than we left with because the family will give us their Christmas presents for us.  In addition, this time we had a used bike from my niece Abby that was just the right size for Rebecca...yeah! 

Now all my chittlins have been fed pizza, bathed, and put to bed.  Ahh...time for me to upack my stuff and go to bed.  This momma is worn out! 

I hope everyone had a great holiday, and ate themselves silly. We sure did! ;-)

Gem of the Week

A friend posted this on Facebook today...and I just really liked it.

"Faith is what gets you started. Hope is what keeps you going. Love is what brings you to the end."

~ Mother Angelica ~

What I Know About Bullying

One Ohio school, 4 Dead Students

I read this article this morning.  And I had to hold back tears. 

There are kids who are committing suicide because they were bullied at school. 

Granted...I'm not an expert on the subject.  I don't know all the details...you can't trust the news to report a story with absolute truth.

Some people may think these kids were wimps and didn't know how to stand up for themselves.  Maybe so...but I can tell you firsthand; kids who bully are acting out because they are not getting what they need from home, namely proper parental guidance, good role models, and lessons in how to treat others with kindness.  They are not being taught that making fun of others is a terrible thing to do, and has lasting consequences. 

If you don't believe me...read this blog post.  It's long, but it's brutally honest. 

Memoirs of a Bullied Kid   

What's going on with kids who are bullied?  Anyone know?  I'll start.  I happen to have plenty of experience on the subject. 

My Dad was in the military, so we moved every 2 years.  Now, that's not so bad when you're young, and friends are made easily especially when you're in military schools overseas.  Everyone else is an Army brat too.  You all have that common bond, and friendships are there, but not deep, because you know you'll be moving in no time. 

By the time I was in 6th grade, I'd lived in 3 countries and gone to 4 different schools.  Sometimes it was hard, but I was hanging in there.  I was teased some, but it wasn't too bad.  My parents told me to, "just ignore it, and they'll stop."  Unfortunately, it didn't stop.  I realized this harsh reality when I was twelve. 

Two boys in my 6th grade class decided I would be their target for the year.  They relentlessly called me names, threw spitwads at me, blocked me from the bathroom, etc.  One of the boys took a rubber band and staple and sent it flying across the room.  It hit me in the face, right above my left eye.  I had to go to the school nurse, who carefully pulled it out of my eyelid.  I know my Dad made a visit to the principal, and the bullying nearly stopped after that.  And that kid?  Oh, he just got a slap on the wrist, probably because his Dad was the librarian (yes...really, he was). 

Little did I know there would be more things for me to worry about than a staple. 

In 7th grade, my Dad moved us to Hawaii.  We lived in a tiny Army community just outside Hickam Air Force Base on Oahu.  I'll bet you're thinking...WOW.  Living in paradise...and the beach right outside our back door!  What could be better?

Um..no.  It was not paradise.  At all.  In fact, Hawaii was my least favorite place we lived in.  Why? 

For starters, my parents had heard the public schools were awful.  So they did what they thought was best, and enrolled me in Catholic school.  I thought it would be great.  Wrong.

I need to back up just a bit and tell you what I looked like back then.  I was a very runty child.  I recall going to the pediatrician when I was 10.  I weighed 50 pounds and was 50 inches tall.  Yep...that's it.  I was wearing thick ugly glasses because my eyesight was poor.  By 7th grade, there were braces on my very crooked teeth.  I had stick-straight, dark brown hair with bands cut straight across.  I was also a very late bloomer.  The uniform shorts were too big, even the smallest size my mom could buy.  And because the uniform blouse was white, everyone could tell, (particularly the girls) that I still didn't wear a bra in 7th grade. 

So...I didn't like myself much.  Okay, I really didn't like myself at all.  I knew I didn't look like most girls my age.  I was always the shortest kid, and all the other kids at the Catholic school had know each other since kindergarten.  The cliques had been establised for years, and needless to say, I wasn't allowed into any of them.  My parents did the best they could, but they had pretty high standards, and I didn't always measure up to their expectations.  My Father wanted me to stay strong and ignore the teasing.  My Mother wanted me to be super smart, and become a prodigy in piano.  I failed in all those departments, and my Mom didn't hide her disappointment.  So I felt like a failure. 

Pretty soon, the boys were teasing me every day.  The girls were worse.  They made fun of bra-less me.  I knew they were always whispering behind my back.  Wanting to fit in, I tried to be nice, and even laugh at the taunting.  Of course, that was pointless.  I even tried out for the girls basketball team, becuase I wanted to belong so badly.  I am sure I wasn't but 52 inches tall, so the coach told me, "Maybe next year." 

I didn't tell my parents anything.  By now, my mom was very sick (years later, we learned she'd had a very bad flare-up of hepatitis), and she was practically bedridden for months.  My Dad's assignment was stressful, and I knew he wouldn't be able to do anything.  So I stayed quiet.  One day, the teasing was so bad, I came home crying.  My Dad took one look at me, and promptly went to the principal.  The principal was a nun, who was sympathetic, but powerless to do anything.  She probably didn't want to lose any students by talking to wealthy, tuition-paying parents. 

By now, my parents decided the money they were dishing out for me (and my 2 siblings) wasn't worth it.  We were enrolled in public school the following year. 

Eighth grade turned out to be the worse year of my life. 

In Hawaii, you are either a local or a "haole."  Being a military brat, I was automatically labed a "haole, " because I was not a native, and also because I was part Asian.  Many locals have deep, discrimating feelings against Asians, because they believe they've bought up their island land for commercial/retail development.  I was smart, and had a few friends at the new middle school, but the bullying was much worse. 

I learned very quickly to stay out of certain bathrooms around campus.  Gangs of boys and girls would hang out in there, ready to shove any luckless student into the toilets.  So I'd hold it for hours until PE class when I could go.  By then, everyone had to go too-- we knew it was safer in the gym restrooms.  I also didn't sit on certain benches in the courtyards, because the students gangs had claimed most of them.  The one time I did, my girlfriend and I were shoved off.  One assistant principal witnessed the whole thing, and when I asked him why he didn't do anything, he said, "Just stay out of the way, and leave them alone."  Excuse me?  Since when was sitting on a bench in the courtyard a crime? 

Additionally, my backpack was stolen twice and tossed over the 2nd story balcony into a mud puddle, my food thrown in my lap during lunch, and my chair taken away during class.  When I told my parents, they just told me to ignore the bulies or stay away from them.  Pretty soon, I went to school with a stomache every day, but I also knew no amount of begging to stay home would work.  So I just curled up into a ever smaller ball, and stayed quiet. 

But school wasn't actually the worse part.  The bus ride after school was the worst.  My Mom was still very ill, and couldn't pick us up from school, and the bus route wouldn't take us all the way home.  So my sister and I rode the bus from school to the base library on Hickam AFB, and we'd wait there until my Dad finished work and could take us home. 

Every day after school, no matter where I was in line, I wasn't allowed to get on the bus until the very end.  Both the boys and the girls shoved whoever they wanted to the back of the line.  I gave up after the first few days of school and just waited at the end to avoid a fight.  But it didn't stop there.  Nobody would let me sit next to them.  Nobody.  It was probably a good 20 minute drive to the base library, and I'd stand up the whole way.

One day, one of the particularly mean girls unzipped my backpack all the way open.  Out spilled the contents, pencils, pens, books...everything.  I tried to pick up the items, but the girls kicked my belongings all over the bus, and the boys stepped on the rest, refusing to let me get them.  We finally stopped at the library, and the bus driver yelled at the kids to stop it.  I was able to quickly grab most of my things, and got off the bus.  My sister and I made it into the library, I asked the librarian to use the phone, and called my Dad.  I hadn't cried one tear up until now, but I'll never forget the sympathetic looks the librarian gave me while I sobbed my heart out. 

Dad told me to hang on, and he'd be there as soon as he could.  The next day, he went to the principal's office and demanded action.  He was a military officer, and he wouldn't take bull from anyone.  After that, the bus driver made sure to leave one seat free for my sister and I right behind him on the bus.  We were relieved, and even more relieved when we moved from Hawaii to Georgia. 

Looking back on it now, I learned a LOT in eight grade.  For whatever reason, my mother refused to get me a training bra, but she did get a cami for me to wear under my shirts.  I guess the girls thought I wasn't paying attention in the locker room, but man...I heard all kinds of things in there.  I know you know what I'm talking about.  My Mom didn't tell me anything about the opposite sex, how I would develop, nothing.  So I quietly digested information, and filed it away in my brain for later. 

Maybe it was a good thing I was so ignorant.  Thanks to what I heard and very dire warnings from my Mom, ( who instilled unecessary fear in me) I didn't date anyone seriously until my senior year of college.  That man turned out to be my husband, and I thank God every day for him. 

Back to my story.  I ended up going to 2 different high schools.  The first one was a fine arts magnet school in downtown August Georgia.  I LOVED it there.  Everyone had a talent; I played in orchestra and sang in the girls chorus.  I was teased a little, but by now, I'd learned a few smart comebacks, and it wasn't mean teasing, it was things like, "Hey, don't you know how to tune your own violin?"  I was happy, had a few good friends, and I wasn't a scholar or a violin prodigy, but there was a feeling of belonging. 

We had to move toward the end of my junior year to El Paso, Texas, (yes, I was devasted) and the high school was vastly different.  I went from a class of 68 to over 700 students.  Again, I was confronted with mean girls and long established cliques, but I buckled down on my schoolwork and played violin in the orchestra like mad.  I didn't fit in, but I wasn't a total reject either--I made a couple of friends.  I knew deep down nobody really cared about me, but I held on to the fact I was going to college in a year, and wouldn't have to tolerate the harassement for long. 

Going to college 700 miles away was amazing.  Having moved so many times, I knew it was an opportunity to start all over again and meet new people.  I soon had a supportive circle of friends at the Catholic church I attended.  And I was never harassed, teased, or bullied after that. 

Now, I don't worry about myself.  I worry about my kids.  I am seriously considering homeschooling my girls through middle school.  (Our oldest son needs the structure and routine of school with his ADHD). Nearly every woman I've talked to has said the same thing:

"Middle school was HELL.  Absolute HELL."

Enough said, right?  I can't even think about putting my girls through 1/4 of what I went through.  Sure, every school nowadays has anti-bullying policies.  But I honestly don't believe them or trust them.  David usually has a "Oh, don't worry about that" approach, but he has listened to me.  I'm already praying Joshua will not be teased or bullied in middle school.  I'm starting to think (but not necessarily approve) of David's idea--if Joshua is bullied at school, he'll teach him how to throw a punch or two if or when it becomes intolerable.  Of course we do NOT condone violence in our house, but I truly believe bullies cannot be ignored.  They will keep at it...they don't stop, and the school is usually powerless to do anything. 

It goes back to what I said at the beginning of this post:  Bullies need love and attention too...if they're not getting it from home, they will seek attention and take out their feelings out in other, negative ways.  It's hard to look at it from the other side, but when I think about all those mean girls...I know they didn't have a loving home environment.  My parents may not have been supportive and understanding when I needed it most, but they did teach me right from wrong.  As a mother now, I will not let my kids call each other names, tease their siblings, or pick on others.  And trying to tolerate that kind of behavior does not make a kid tough, it only makes them feel smaller than small.  That is not what our faith teaches us.  And it really doesn't matter what faith you are...a fundamental lesson of life all children should learn is this:

"Treat others the way you would want to be treated."  The Golden Rule.  How I wish it was a reality, that every child followed this simple statement. 

Well, this soapbox has gone on long enough.  Sadly, I am sure there will be more kids who hurting so much, they will end their own life to stop the pain.  I don't know if I was just lucky or my guardian angel was working overtime for many years.  I pray kids who need postive reinforcement will get it, so they in turn will become kinder, more gentle human beings, instead of hurting others. 

A Little Bit of Everything

Lately, I've had a hard time coming up with something to blog about.  I think it's because I've had random thought about all sorts of things.  Usually, I am pretty focused and organized, but lately, my brain had not wanted to cooperate.  (It might have something to do with the fact I'm pregnant ;-).  Nevertheless, here's my attempt to put thoughts into words.

1.  Reactions from people who find out we're having baby #5 have been mostly positive.  Thankfully, only a couple of comments have been downright awful.  I was at Walmart with Rebecca pricing out glasses for her, and the woman next to us said,

"So, is she (Rebecca) the oldest?"

I replied, "No, she's the second out of 4, and we have one on the way."

The woman said, shaking her head, "I'm so sorry." 

I said, "Why are you sorry?  I'm not sorry!" 

I didn't have time to really think about those words until later.  And then I bristled...and I prayed to God to help me let go of my anger.  Why does our society feel sorry for people with big familes anyway?  Why are kids such a bad thing?  What is UP with people? 

Sigh...I'll leave it at that.  Otherwise, I'll be on a soapbox for a while.

2.  We've been trying to crack down on discipline in our house.  It really fell by the wayside over the summer when I was feeling miserable during the first trimester.  So far, David and I are really learning to work together, enforce the rules, and praise positive behavior.  The only child showing resistance is Rebecca.  She tries to negotiate over everything, and it requires the patience of a saint to talk to her.  One minute she is kind, helpful, and so attentive to others, and the next, she is ROARING with anger.  We both agree she's really smart, and staying one step ahead of her is a challenge.  It can be fun though.  For example, I had this conversation with her last week when she offered to clean the master bathroom.

REBECCA:  "Mommy, I'll clean the bathroom, but it will cost you."

ME:  "Okay, I'll pay you 5 dollars."

REBECCA:  "That's it!?  I want 10 bucks!"
ME:  "All right...I'll give you 3 dollars." 

REBECCA:  "But...that's less than 5!"

ME (smiling):  "Well, take it or leave it."

REBECCA (gruglingly):  Okay

She doesn't know it, but I walked away from that one saying to myself, "Yes, I WON!"  But I tell you, she not only cleaned my bathroom, but her bathroom as well, and did a very good job.  So despite her brain and her tongue, our daughter is really a blessing.  And a workout!

3.  I'm teaching Christina's 1st grade homeschool formation class this year, and so far, I'm having the BEST time.  I just LOVE IT.  I love being around these sweet little kids, who are eager to learn more about their faith, and it just makes my day to listen to them read, color their pictures, answer questions, etc.  I am so thankful to have this opportunity to spend time with our younger daughter.  I've always felt like she gets a bit lost in the shuffle in our family, and being her formation teacher gives me some precious time with her. 

4.  Since school started, I've had to really remind Joshua to write more neatly.  I am sure his teacher is wondering how we can ever read this kid's papers.  I wish Joshua could just type out everything...but he has to do some writing.  He also has a hard time explaining his work, especially when a test question requires a written answer...and I just don't know how to help him.  If you ask him orally, he can reel off the answer, no problem.  But writing out his thoughts...man it's tough for him.  I am praying we can help him some way!

5.  David is trying his darndest to get the study nook finished.  I've been putting up pictures on Facebook, but I haven't taken pics of the cabinets...I will do that as soon as he clears off all the tools up there.  He's currently working on the countertops, which will be large, 18x18 stone tiles.  Believe it or not, it was cheaper to go that route than corian or laminate.  I will be so glad when this room is done!

6.  Let's see...what else have I been thinking about?  Oh yes...five kids.  Whew...five kids.  Can I really do this?  I'm nearly halfway throught this pregnancy already...which I can hardly believe.  But I am excited too.  And funny thing is, I was worried the first few weeks.  We had that garge sale two years ago, and I let nearly all the baby things go.  But kind friends have offered a car seat, a crib mattress, etc.  I even found a perfectly good infant tub in the neighbor's trash pile this week, and snapped it up.  Every offer has been like a gift from God...proof that He does provide!
     Then I was thinking...where is the baby going to go?  We converted the nursery to David's study 2 years ago...and now we have to rearrange big, heavy office furniture to make room for the crib.  Thankfully the room is quite large, so it's won't be too bad. 
     And finally, at one point, I told David, "What about my mother's ring?  Will we be able to put another stone in it?"  My darling hubby said not to worry...if we couldn't get another stone put in, we'd just get a new setting.  He continues to be so attentive to taking care of me during this pregnancy...I am one lucky girl, let me tell you. 

Well, I think that's it.  I think...

I told you my thoughts were random.  ;-).  Maybe slightly overboard.  But hopefully not completely crazy.