J-E-S-U-S

The summer of VBS songs…

Meet up, meet up with Jesus. Meet up with him. J-E-S-U-S.

When I am afraid, I will trust in you. When I am afraid, I will trust in you...ohhhh ohhhh. When I am afrain, I will trust in you, my LOOOOOOORRRRRRRDDDDDDD.

So I look up to Jesus, my help. I know I can't do this myself. So I look up to Jesus, my help. And I'll trust in you. (rainbow!....get video) Jesus is the light when it's dark. He can heal the broken heart. He can make the blind eye see. Yes, you know he's trustworthy!

The whole crew at VBS

Margaret's favorite part of VBS week...her first cake, with Miss Tracey, no less:)

"I went poopy in the potty and Margaret is standing up...can you believe it?!?"

I would consider Andrew to have been potty trained for "#1" by age 2.5. I recall this not because I was documenting things in a timely manner, but because he was precisely 2.5 when Margaret was born and I remember being barely confident that when he visited me in the hospital, he would be able to tell me if needed to go to potty. Since he had previously gone "#2" right after breakfast, I thought that piece of training was going to be a piece of cake. If it was predictable each day, surely that would make this easy! But, no. He promptly "reprogrammed" himself to wait for when he had a diaper on...either nap time or first thing in the morning. I knew we were in trouble when he would go in his naptime diaper not 5 minutes after having it put on:(

In typical first parent fashion, we diligently worked to encourage going poopy on the potty. We tried pulling the diaper for nap. He went in his underpants...and didn't call for us to let us know. We tried pulling the underpants. He went in his bed and laid there with it until after naptime. Lovely! Then we gave up, thinking "Fine! If you want poop in your pants, then knock yourself out! We'll worry about this if it's still an issue before Kindergarten.". That is the kind of mellowing that you will do once #2 is in the house. Thank you, Margaret!

By 3+, I was over diapers (the size 5 ones, anyway). So we hit it hard again that summer. One glorious July afternoon, Daddy and Andrew called Mommy at work to say, ‘I went poopy on the potty and Margaret is standing up! Can you believe it?’ All the waiting was worth every minute of this priceless, unsolicited quote:)

"I went poopy on the potty and Margaret is standing, can you believe it?!?"

I would consider that Andrew was potty trained by 2.5. I am confident of this not because I was timely in documenting it, but because he was precisely 2.5 when Margaret was born and I recall being thrilled that we had passed that milestone prior to bringing home an infant. That said, I'll admit that it had been a LONG, hot summer reading Elmo Goes Potty in the powder room and that we had only mastered"#1". I thought #2 was going to be a piece of cake since he always went after breakfast. But as soon as we dropped the daily diapers, he waited for his nap or nighttime diapers. Enter Margaret into the mix, and we were suddenly not first time parents anymore and could care less if the kids was going poopy in his diapers. As long as he didn't need a diaper for Kindergarten, why did we care???

But shortly after 3 when he started going within 5 minutes of having it on, I declared that this was ridiculous. So we pulled the diaper at nap. And he went poopy in his big boy underpants. He did not call for me, so he sat there in it for his whole nap! So I pulled the underpants. He went in his bed. Again, he did not tell me, so he laid there with it for his whole nap! (Can you envision my head banging up against the wall!). Then one afternoon at the beginning of naptime, Andrew called me at work and enthusiastically shared that, "I went poopy on the potty and Margaret is standing up! Can you believe it?!?!?" No, sweet Andrew, I cannot. And I'm not sure which one makes me more proud:)

"I am bound, I am bound, I am bound for the Promised Land"

In June 2011, Michael and I took a pilgrimage to the Holy Land with our beloved Wellshire Presbyterian Church in Denver. It took us 6 months and some tactful urging by Margaret Bell herself to realize that we could indeed leave the kids for 10 days, travel half-way across the world into the unrest of the Middle East, and live to tell about it. Oh, and then there was the cost....the PTO cost for Michael and the financial cost of the trip. But you can't take vacation days and money with you when you go, so we bit the bullet.

All grandparents and half of their aunts, uncles, and cousins chipped in to make our absence possible. Not knowing what Andrew would understand or comprehend about it, we didn't explain the trip to him until a couple of days before. But what was priceless was his song of choice during breakfast for the few weeks prior to our trip. Before even telling him, he started singing a church favorite each morning: "I am bound, I am bound, I am bound for the Promised Land". Over, and over, and over again he reminded us of what was to come----for us, anyway!

The trip was the experience of a lifetime, no doubt.  Only after going did we realize why John has made the effort to go nine times.  What a blessing that is!  Below is a link to the Shutterfly Album I created.  It is an extremely brief version of the journaling I did while we were there, but a good review of our trip.

http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0AZMmzhk1at2TCWg

June 2011 - Let's Back WAAAY Up

The last 9 months have been something else---well, the last year and a half, really. 15 months ago (March 2010), Andrew turned 2 and I have not blogged since then. I regret that because of how much has happened in our lives. Michael and I feared the “terrible two’s”, but we soon realized
how much fun it was. Andrew’s language exploded, making communication really fun. He became shy at times, but not at the pool! He had a blast at the pool all summer, jumping off the edge tirelessly and becoming obsessed with declaring, “I went unda!” every time he went under. The endless fascination with fun in the pool was a treat.

On May 21, 2010, our 6th anniversary, we moved from our rental house in Charlottesville to the
house we bought. It was wonderful to get into our own home again, but I don’t recommend moving on your anniversary in 90 degree heat at 6+ months pregnant:) But you gotta do what you gotta do! We quickly fell in love with our neighborhood and learned that we have great playmates for Andrew all around us---a huge perk! We spent a lot of time sweating through the humidity on their wonderful playgrounds.

The end of July, 2010 took us back to Colorado for the first time since we left (Oct. 30, 2009). A dear friend’s wedding was the occasion and we were en route to Big Sky, MT for some time with the whole extended Ferguson Family. We were in Denver for a brief 48 hours---not long enough to catch up with 10 years' worth of friends, but plenty long to get horribly nostalgic. It was a tough weekend, but it was really nice to enjoy some great weather, a lovely wedding, and our dear friends and family at church.

Then we were off to Big Sky, MT! All 9 adults and 5 ½ kids (one still "with" me!) were there simultaneously for 2-3 days of the week. Mom and Dad rented an exquisite house to accommodate us all. While many headed off for day trips to Yosemite, we stayed in town
to enjoy the local entertainment. At 32-33 weeks pregnant, I was visiting the ladies room about every 30 minutes, so a day in the car didn’t sound like much fun. We’d been to Yosemite before, (when I was pregnant with Andrew), so we explored locally. Michael fly fished the spectacular Gallatin River several days. I was able to get Andrew down to the opposite side of the river one day and he loved watching Daddy catch fish!

As the due date for #2 approached (Sept 18., coincidentally our dog Molly’s 5th birthday!), Andrew realized that he would soon be 2 ½, which is around the corner from 3! As cute as two was, he was showing signs of 3 already and I was becoming terrified of adding a baby to the household! I even said to Mom at 39 ½ weeks pregnant that “they” should not let you have children 2 ½ years apart! This one seemed perfectly content in my belly, so I thought maybe I wouldn’t have to add a baby to the mix afterall! Maybe I could put up with the heartburn and sore muscles and just stay pregnant….at times, I hoped for that! Having already far surpassed Andrew's total of 36 ½ weeks, we didn’t know when this baby was going to come. Turns out, we had to make it come!

I was induced on Friday, September 17 right at 40 weeks. Dr. Wolanski felt the little one had grown enough and that we would both benefit from getting things going on this side of pregnancy. So at 6:35pm, our precious little baby revealed herself to us! God blessed us with our Margaret Elizabeth (named about 5-6 years prior on the 225 exit ramp in Denver on the way home from church one Sunday). What a joy she has been ever since! My only regret is that
she is somehow 9 months old and I am just now documenting her. Margaret has been a very good baby since the beginning. I coerced her into Andrew’s nap schedule from the beginning and I fed her so often she slumped into a food coma “through the night” by 7 weeks. Early on, evenings were a bit rough. We were trying to keep her on our schedule to go to bed at 10:00pm. But once we realized that the chaos of our household from 6:00-10:00pm was just too much for her, we offered her the opportunity to “check out” by 7:00pm and our angelic baby returned:)

At about 8 weeks, I joined my parents and sisters in NYC for a fun weekend. This was my trial run for being gone 5 days in January to sneak back to Colorado. Margaret gave Michael a bit of a wake-up call, but did great on the bottle. We planned a Vail/Denver trip in January and Margaret decided to really test me for the first time the week before. To this day, I don’t know why she was up every night for the week before we left. She wasn’t sick, no teeth were emerging, and she wasn’t hungry. I never would have planned the CO trip without confidence that the 4-month-old would be sleeping through the night! But about that time, she discovered her left thumb and all seemed to right with the world again. Andrew has always been a right thumb sucker and Margaret, now, the left. Go figure! Apparently the kids did great for Dody and Grandaddy and we had a wonderful trip. Epic skiing in Vail---best days they’d seen all winter!---and our time in Denver with friends was great. We were even able to drive by our old house on
this second visit – a huge step for me.

Rewinding to December 19, Margaret was baptized at 3 months. All of her grandparents and blood aunts and uncles were able to be at Meadows Presbyterian for the service. Given the hectic nature of the holidays, the others were home busy with pageants, etc., but this was clearly
a benefit to our East Coast move. Just like John Bell had done for Andrew’s baptism, our Pastor Tom Goodrich graciously allowed all three ordained grandparents to participate in the service. Grandma posed the questions to the congregation, Dody read the prayer that was prayed at my baptism 32 years prior, and the congregation teared up to Grandaddy’s singing of "I Was There to Hear Your Borning Cry". There is something about the sacrament of baptism that makes
me feel like Jesus’ hand is on my own head. What a profound moment it is.

Quick highlights for Margaret, most of which coincide with Andrew’s benchmarks:
· Sleeping through the night – 7 weeks
· Rolling over front to back – 8 weeks
· Eolling over back to front – 11 weeks
· Left thumb discovered – 4 months
· Sitting up – 6 months
· Broken collar bone – 7 months (yikes!)
· Crawling, inchworm style – 8 ½ months
· Crawling, traditionally – 9 months

Within days of this posting (being written, not actually posted), we leave for Israel. We are taking this Pilgrimage with John Bell, minister at our beloved Wellshire Presbyterian in Denver. Our children's incredible grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and family friends are all chipping in to make this possible.


What have the last 9 months taught me?
1. Too often I prioritize cleaning or organizing over my children’s laughs and current explorations. I am working to change this.

2. My dear girlfriends in Charlottesville have helped me realize that there is enough of me to go around to be a good mother, wife, friend, and Christian.

3. God is good. Better than I realized. SO much better than I realized.

Mack and The Farm

Around Andrew's 3rd birthday, we put “the farm” in his room. His $20 red & black piece of plastic (a.k.a. Mack, the car carrier from the movie CARS) was the BIG birthday hit. Crushing my attempt to walk down memory lane, he really didn't care much about the big wheel (the childhood rite of passage present), or the basketball hoop (aren't all little boys supposed to love hoops???), nor the sit 'n spin (which was really for Mommy). Nope. All he cared about was Mack. Then I reminded myself that his birthday wasn't about ME. It was about him. And at 3,
filling Mack with a dozen matchbox cars is what made his world go round.

He began stacking all of the cars inside and on top of Mack “just so” to be transported every night
up to his room. Then they had to be transferred to "the farm". Steve and Clare had given him the Fischer Price farm. Evidently, each car had its own particular spot in the farm. The barn doors were carefully opened and each car was methodically parked in its correct spot “to go night night”. Often in the morning, all 18 were lined up meticiously in his room. They may have been perpendicular to the wall, or on the window sill, but they were perfect.

2nd trip to the Dentist

Andrew's first trip to the dentist was a complete disaster.  That about sums it up.  It was terribly frustrating because we thought we'd done everything right.  Margaret was an infant, so that means Andrew must have been about 2.5.  We'd gotten a recommendation from our Pediatrician.  She sent us to a "wonderful" pediatric dentist.  Well, this dentist had cute GIGANTIC stuffed animals dropping from the ceiling.  Maybe some kids found them entertaining, but our toddler found the oversizing crab dangling into his personal space to be nothing but terrifying.  Once the hygienist called us back, things continued to go downhill.  She was very sweet, but she did little to accommodate Andrew's nervous demeanor.  She went through the motions of a regular dental check-up as any adult would.  I guess she gave her instruments cute little names, but he didn't care at that point.  He was afraid of them and when she tilt the chair back, it was all over.  I had made sure to find a time that Andrew's hero, Daddy, could go along with us.  Thank goodness for that!  That was the only good move of the day.  I cradled Margaret while Michael physically held Andrew down in the chair, as instructed by the hygienist, so that she could do her thing.  Screaming at the top of his lungs the entire time, I was sure that Andrew was headed for a European smile the rest of his life. 

Icing on the cake---as if we needed any?---we got a bill for the disastrous experience.  Evidently said "wonderful" pediatric dentist wasn't even in-network.  Lovely.

Michael and I both love our extremely convenient Dentist, so I called them for a rec.  They are just a general dentist, technically, but take them at 3.  So voila!  We now have a family dentist.  Six months later, we braced ourselves for Andrew's second dental visit.  Talk about night and day experiences!  The hygienist is my new hero.  She had Andrew counting his teeth for a while and wisely asked if he even wanted to sit down.  He declined (clearly, given recent events), so she just went with that.  She read his hesitation and kept it simple.  I think she even managed a cleaning while he stood there silently with his cute little hands in his precious plaid pockets:)

Look how far you can get with a child when don't freak them out in the obviously optional reclining chair!

Counting teeth - now THIS is how a little one should experience the dentist.

Reviewing the tools (love the hands in the pockets!)