Piper, pipe that song again...

I was seriously wondering whether I should have dubbed my 1 1/2-year-old "Piper" for this blog.  It seemed like it fit at the time I was thinking of names, wanting to go with a bird theme for reasons best known to myself. ;)  "Rosefinch" was easy to shorten into a perfectly human sounding name, and "Sandpiper" would actually be a kind of hip name if only I was actually a hip person.

In case you hadn't picked up on it, I'm not hip.  I am a little bit crunchy, which is hip, but that's not why I'm crunchy.  I'm crunchy because I'm a paranoid OCD control-freak.

Just being honest here, folks.

But back to Sandpiper.  It fit because she has sandy-colored hair, yes, but primarily because she, um, pipes quite well.  She pipes particularly well when it is supposed to be bedtime, and she can scream pipe for a surprisingly long time with no apparent intention of stopping, until she suddenly gets tired of it and turns it off like someone just flipped a switch.  It's really unnerving - she just about has me convinced that she is completely inconsolable and then it's quiet.  I usually think she's dropped dead and lay one hand on her back and frantically wave my other hand around in front of her nose to see if I can feel her exhaling.  Of course this usually rubs her the wrong way and she starts "piping" again.

"Piping" is a very nice term for what actually sounds much more like a banshee.  Actually, no, that doesn't even quite nail it.  She sounds like this (and please turn your speakers down lower before you click on the link):

Click if you dare...

Not even kidding.  It's hair-raising.  And it sounds much more humorous than it actually is.  See how you feel after you've been listening to a ring wraith scream for two hours.  It seems to upset us more than it does her.  She sounds like she must be dying of some severe, unseen affliction. Ring wraith one minute, peacefully-sleeping angel the next.  It's uncanny.

Well, this all vanished about the time I dubbed her "Piper" and started blogging.  It was wonderful.  She would just go to sleep fairly calmly and not, you know, shriek.  She would sometimes object, but it was more of the normal kind of objection you might expect from a toddler who isn't ready to go to bed yet.  Not hair-raising, blood-curdling shrieking.  I was relieved.  And somehow "Piper" didn't seem like it fit her anymore.  I kept finding myself wanting to call her "Skylar" for some reason whenever I started to write "Piper."  I know, I'm weird.  I am a name nerd or something.  But nerdiness aside, "Piper" just didn't fit her anymore.

Until last night.

Last night, the ring wraith came back.  With a vengeance.

She could turn it on or off at will, whenever she pleased.  We stayed up with her trying to get her to go to sleep until she finally calmed down and laid there talking quite cheerfully to herself for 30 minutes.  Then, finally, (with breaks here and there for hugs and cuddles that she didn't seem terribly interested in - she just wanted to be put in the floor to play) after being in the bed for 2 1/2 hours - she fell asleep.  And slept through the entire night.  But wow.  Just...WOW.  I, of the soft voice, always being told to speak up because no one can hear me - I just can't fathom how somebody so small can pack so much lung power.

Future soloist on our hands?

I think it is possible.

Yes, I could totally see her doing that someday.

But today, you would never know that last night was anything out of the ordinary.  Piper is playing quite happily with Rosie and seems bright-eyed and bushy-tailed even though she only got 8 hours of sleep as opposed to her usual 12.  We may have an early naptime today.

Then again...probably not.

So I think I'll just call her "Piper" and leave it at that.  We have quite a vivacious, strong-willed personality on our hands, methinks.  And for the purposes of my blog, "Piper" suits her just fine.

Where I've been, Wheat Belly, and Whatever

I know that, as frequently happens, there have been rumors circulating that I must have dropped off the face of the earth again.  I say "again" because it happens regularly in my blogging life.  I am on, blogging almost daily, and then suddenly I disappear for weeks with no explanation or apology.  The fact is - are you ready for this?

I'm not very organized.

There, I said it.  Bet you would never have guessed that, right?  It's not like it's obvious or anything.

I won't bother with all of my reasons - it's been a very busy few (more like lots of) weeks since I last posted and I am ready to make a go of it again.

And there I go talking like Kipper and his friends again.  For the uninitiated, this is an adorable British animated show that my children love to watch.  Talking animals with delightful accents who say things like, "Let me have a go," and "Brilliant!" and "Ohhhh, NOOOOO!  The sun's gone in."

In other news, we are currently embarking upon a culinary adventure.  I hope to share some of it with you here, perhaps even including recipes.  I don't dare make any promises, but I do intend to try.

I think it is also showing that I have been reading "The Chronicles of Narnia."  My writing has gotten all British-ified.  You can always tell what I'm currently reading by the way that I write.  I'm doing it all with a British accent at present.  (See?  "At present."  "I don't dare."  "I do intend to try."  Lovely, but not exactly American, right?)

But I digress.  My husband and I have decided to try going completely wheat-free, and since we already know that Piper is sensitive to wheat, Rosie is along for the ride.  She doesn't seem to be missing wheat at all, though - and she's actually starting to eat some veggies.  And likes them.  YES!

Manly read most of "Wheat Belly" by Dr. William Davis.  And yes, it is all the rage which makes it immediately suspect to my cynical little mind (which is in so much denial on the subject that I misspelled "cynical" twice just now).  However it does contain some very compelling arguments against wheat, which has apparently been bred and bred to produce the "perfect" variety of wheat - to the point that it has virtually been turned into a mutant grain.  It's all complicated and I won't try to explain it here.  Just know that after he read it, told me about it, and I read some of it for myself - we're pretty convinced that we should stay far away from wheat.  I would love to write more about this, but I don't really have the time because it would take a lot of referencing and such - I am no expert.  I would recommend that you read the book for yourselves, if you are curious.  (And no, no one is paying me to say that.  I don't think it's a miracle book, but it does seem to be very well-researched.  My data-loving mind appreciates this.)

So, explanations aside, we are a week into our wheat-free journey.  So far, so good.  We're actually really enjoying the food - we're not really missing the wheat that much!

And this concludes my greatly-abbreviated summary of what I've been up to since my last disappearance.  I take heart that I do have two blog posts written up and nearly ready to post - I just need to run them by my Proof-Reader a.k.a. World's Greatest Editor a.k.a. my husband.  :)

Imperfection

Today a new week starts and company is coming in just a few short hours and the house looks like a tornado passed through over the weekend.

One of life's great mysteries - how the house can be so trashed as a result of no one being here for a couple of days?  We were running errands - in and out, in and out - all weekend long.  Good busy - but very, very busy.  And I feel the stress creeping up my spine as I survey the mess around and race madly trying to get abreast of it so that I can find a place of quiet this morning before the little ones get up.

But I want to pause and think for a moment about what my job really is.  It is good to get on top of the mess - to create a restful haven rather than a place of chaos.  But if I find that cleaning the mess is causing me to dread my own children's waking - perhaps I am placing too much importance on the mess?

Perhaps if I step back and breathe - slow - and remind myself that I am their soul-nurturer and guide today.  Is it a better witness to walk slow by their sides and love them or to toss them into highchairs, give them breakfast, and go back to racing around getting the physical house in order while leaving spiritual houses in disarray?  We have had a busy weekend.  They would benefit from some time with Mommy just to sit still and be quiet and to talk (or at least hear me talk) about things of importance.  Just to cultivate relationships there.

Because their little souls will be forever and this house will bend and break and in the far reaches of eternity no one will remember or care whether the kitchen table was spotless for company on this day, April the 16th of 2012.  But somewhere ahead in that eternity, the work I do on these little souls will be going on and on.

These are precious jewels for me to hone, by God's grace and mercy.  Imperfect and in-need-of-honing as I am myself.  Still I must polish and attend to the things that need to be taught and gently lead these precious ones on this path of grace, pointing them towards Christ.  Yes, the cleaning is important.  But I needed to sit down and write it out this morning to remind myself that I must have my children's needs in the forefront of my mind, as my first priority.  If my cleaning spree is interrupted by a little voice calling, "Mommy!" it is not an interruption.  It is the real beginning of my work today.

And this work is beautiful indeed.

Little one, pointing at the birdies outside - may I point you to Christ today.

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Gifts to dwell on today:

- Out-of-town friends coming to visit

- Our new minivan (part of why our weekend was so busy - picking it up and surprising our families with it!) and the new space it provides - so thankful to have this!

- Little ones breathing soft and sweet and slow in sleepiness.

- Whirring dryer, swishing washing machine, humming dishwasher.  The sounds of domestic busyness.

- Leftover pizza for breakfast.  It feels freeing after frantically dieting all last week - just to relax a bit and say..."It's okay to enjoy these good things in moderation...it's okay."  And it is.  But that's a different post.

Today In The Handprints Household

We've had some interesting comments from Rosie today, all trending slightly towards the gross side.  I mean, it happens when you're a parent.  Those little details you never thought about when daydreaming about parenthood.  Yep.  You hear things you never...really...thought of...hearing.  I'll give you the three best samples from the day:

1.  Rosie, this morning at breakfast:  "I want prunes.  I wanna poop."

And I had no idea that she was so well educated in prunes', uh, usefulness.

2.  Rosie, when getting up from her nap:  "Help, Mommy!  I got boogers on my watch!"

And yes, she did, and no, it wasn't pretty.  I won't give any more details.  It was not my favorite clean-up job of all time, I can tell you that.  Wait.  Do I have a favorite clean-up job of all time???  I'll have to get back to you on that one.

3.  Rosie, while I was, um, cleaning up her watch:  "Look, Mommy!  I got hairs in my foot!"

What I thought I heard at first was, "Look, Mommy!  I got hairy foot!" which would have been even more interesting.  I think this was her way of suggesting that perhaps my next cleaning job should be vacuuming the carpets. I'll take it under advisement, kiddo.  ;)

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*Edit: Moments after originally posting this, Piper apparently decided to get in on the action, too.  So she came up to me and pulled a big wad of hairs out of her mouth and graciously handed it to me.  I don't even know where I am anymore, I'm so confused.  I just vacuumed in here!!  ;)

Always keep your face turned up...

Always reaching for the Son.

Beauty Hunting

Today, my friends, may you look with eyes wide open...

Looking for beauty like precious gold...

Knowing that it is everywhere,

For the Creation is good...

From the hand of a good God Who lovingly crafted it,

And Who always does all things well.

May you have a blessed day, friends.

Plans Made and Plans Broken

Last night, after a long day of running noses and whimpers, I paused to scribble in a bedside notebook: “May I see You in the snotty noses and hear You in the cries.”

It didn't sound quite as poetic as I had wanted it to, but I was too tired and feeling too honest to come up with a way to poeticize snotty noses. No, “poeticize” is not a word, as my spell-check is reminding me. But it should be. So for today – I declare it one.

But I liked the thought. I prayed over it and fell asleep with bright hopes for the day ahead.

And all too quickly, the day started. And before I had even managed to start breakfast it had become clear that none of my expectations for the day were going to pan out. Not that any of the expectations were really that important. But they had seemed that way to me.

I pouted my way through the whole morning, praying often for help in overcoming the bad attitude that I just couldn't shake, and apologizing to the girls for it. They forgave me. Well, Rosie did. Piper was blissfully unaware, except perhaps for when she caught me sniffling over the spinach smoothies. She looked at me very strangely then.

It's just not a great situation when the babies are walking around happy and Mommy is the one sniffling in the corner. It's just not.

I struggled with how to approach the day until a few minutes ago, after putting the girls down for naps and coming into the kitchen to start making dinner for the next couple of days. My gratitude journal was sitting on the kitchen island, pen ready to write down gifts.

I knew that I was feeling self-pity and I further knew that it was completely ridiculous. Perhaps the best way to shake the childishness would be to engage in some childlike thanks?

So I picked up the pen and began to write and immediately saw that John Piper was right when he said, “There are eyes in pencils and pens.”

175. “Broken expectations that shatter the cloudy glass of self-sufficiency and make me cling to Christ.”

That was my answer for the day. It wasn't living up to my expectations. Jesus, make it beautiful unto Your Name. It doesn't matter if it's beautiful in my eyes. Make it beautiful in Yours. And help me to trust You as You guide this day, and may I honor You no matter what direction it takes.

And then I saw the brownie sitting wrapped in cellophane, pinched off just a bite (okay, two) and wrote:

176. Chocolate.

And then I couldn't stop.

177. Washing machine hum.

178. Sun sifting through glorious spring green

179. Menus already planned for the week.

180. Anticipation of getting together with friends this weekend.

181. Louis Giglio on “How Great Is Our God.”

May the Great God who stretched the stars in space and formed you cell by cell in your mother's womb, Who promises to hold His children in His hand and never let us go – may He reveal Himself to you today, whether it be through the glory of nature or scrubbing the floors or through the voices of little children. And may He draw us all nearer to Himself through plans made and plans broken, for in it all, His plans are never thwarted.