Dimpled, Brown-Eyed Boy

I'm in love.

I'm in love with a brown-eyed boy with dimples.  My heart is overwhelmingly running over with gratitude and joy.

God is good.  All the time.

Technically, this is brown-eyed, dimpled boy number four that has stolen my heart.  And he's just as gorgeous and wonderful as the others.

God is good.  All the time.

Sweet baby boy has joined our family with such a sense of peace.  Nothing disturbs his sleep, or his eating, or his poopy diapers...

God is good.  All the time.

He has a perpetual look of surprise on his face.  I guess that's what happens when you join our family.  I know that when I married Pat I looked that way for the first three years.



Join me in this week's Motherhood is Calling Monday.  Sorry I wasn't present last week.  I happened to be in the hospital recovering from having a baby.  I know.  Excuses, excuses.  However, I'm back this week, so please link up and share your Motherhood is Calling moments with us!

Around the Dinner Table

We sat around the dinner table tonight, my family and I.

We sat and munched on a dinner brought over by precious neighbors to celebrate Jack's homecoming.

As we sat and munched, I reveled in every moment God had given me.  There was nothing especially special about this particular dinner, just another dinner like every other night...except for the fact that I didn't have to cook it.  (Bless you, sweet neighbors.)

But it was special.  I sat and listened, watched, drank in...

I saw a big brother leap up to help a little sister get something she wanted out of the fridge.

I saw eyes almost disappearing from a little girl's face as she laughed at a brother's silliness.

I heard a big sister ask her brother about his day, taking a genuine interest in his answer.

I heard a daddy make jokes, both good and bad...responses included guffaws and "Dad-dy" from his children and uproarious laughter from his wife.

I saw a little almost-two-year-old's dimples flex as he's chewing up his spinach salad.

I heard to peaceful sound of a baby swing, rocking a bundle of joy, securing him in coccoon of safety away from my arms.

I saw three children jump up without any prodding and clear the table.

I saw table manners trying so hard to make an appearance.  We still have some work to do, but that's okay.  That's what Daddy and I are here for.

And that's when I knew...

I am a happy girl.

I am One Blessed Lady.

All by His grace.

{Ahem} I Have an Announcement to Make

Is this thing on? (tap, tap)

Attention, attention.  May I have your attention please?!

I would like to introduce you to (drum roll, please)...

Benjamin Jack Mehan, born February 18th at 7:31 am!

Even though his first name is Benjamin, he will for now and forever be called Jack,

after my very special grandpa, who left us many years ago...but is waiting

to meet his namesake in heaven.

Here we go, ready to have a baby,

butterflies and all.

Here he is in all of his glory! 

Weighing in at 6 lbs. 13 oz., he's 19 1/2 inches long.

Getting some Daddy and Mama lovin'.

And some sibling love, too.

Ya-Ya

Ju-Ju

Bubba

Gi-Gi

All ready to come home in his old man outfit.  He's so tiny that all of his clothes are too big.

Seriously, already one of my favorite pictures ever.

Love that rock-star hair.

I'm in love.

Can you tell?

The Big Day is Here!

First of all, thank you all so much for your prayers!  I've felt them so much in this last stretch of pregnancy.

BUT, the end is nigh!  Can I get an amen?!

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I get to meet my son.  Happy dance, happy dance, happy dance.  This has been the toughest of all of my pregnancies, so I'm really happy to see it come to an end.  Bless my doctor for having pity on me and moving my c-section date even earlier.

I had an amnio this morning and everything turned out great so we are a go.  I've never made it to my scheduled c-section date because I go into labor, so this is the first time I'll be preparing the night before.  Between the adrenaline and to-do list, I'm not sure how much sleep I'll be getting tonight.

Ah, well.  It's good practice for the interrupted nights' sleep I will be getting.

And so now if I'm MIA for a while (IF?!  who am I kidding here?), you'll know why.  I'll be cuddling my sweet little guy, sniffing his sweet head, and counting his toes.  What is it about their heads and toes?

Then I'll be back with about a million pictures with a precious boy and a sleep-deprived looking mama.

Life doesn't get any better than this, my friends.

Idol Worship

Who knew that I was/am an idol worshiper?

Well, you could knock me over with a feather, because I never would have guessed that it's me.  But I guess no one ever thinks that they're an idol worshiper, do they?  It's an uncomfortable thought...after all, it's one of the "Big Ten".   I certainly have never bowed down to a fertility goddess (although, by the looks of my belly...) or hidden an alter in my closet.

Yet, I have worshiped something other than my God.

In the book, The Excellent Wife, by Martha Peace, she says, "An idol can be anything. But if we want it so badly that we sin if we don't get it or sin to attain it, then we are worshipping an idol rather than Christ."

Amazing book, hard, uncomfortable, convicting read.

My idol has been caring too much what other people think of me.  There!  I admit it.  I thrive on approval from others.  I like everyone and anyone to like me, to think what I'm doing is holy, right, amazing, etc.  I want everyone to think that I have it all together and can handle anything. 

I bow down to my schedule, to-do list and blog comments.  I'm taken aback and hurt when someone doesn't agree with my choices and decisions.

It just doesn't compute.

What must I do to get back into their approval?  I must win them back someway.  Maybe I should grovel and apologize.  I should agree with what they are saying, even though my heart is crying out, "No, no, no!  That is not God has said to you."

And my family has suffered.  My children and husband have taken back seats to my making the house just so because someone is coming over or my stretching of the budget until it squeaks because I want to be thought of someone who (insert anything here). 

I have fallen into the trap of feeling unwanted and unworthy unless someone is constantly praising my efforts.  I just want everyone to be happy with and proud of me.

That sounds pathetic and childish.  I know that it has much to do with my childhood and failed first marriage.  But that's in the past.  It's covered by His grace.

Yet it's warm...like a blanket of thistles and thorns.

And prickly, pokey and darn uncomfortable.  I don't want that blankie anymore.  It makes me prickly and pokey.  Not loving that so much.

My heart cries out for freedom.

So where do I start?

It starts with:

Psalm 119:2

How blessed are those who...seek Him with all their heart.  (emphasis added)

I need to choose every day to seek out and remember what God says is important.  My identity comes from Him and not what everyone else thinks of me.  It doesn't matter anymore if you don't think we should have five kids or shouldn't be homeschooling.  No, we can't feed our children organic food grown in our backyard or bought from the local farmer's market.  Yes, our family alone could support our closest Wal-Mart.

At the end of the day, I have to reflect on my day and see if I've glorified God in it.  Have I been kind and loving?  Have I actually smiled at my children and husband?  Or have I been caught up in an unrealistic to do list that I've made for myself to prove to everyone (including me) that I can do it all, be it all and still have the perfect lipstick-ed smile on my face.

That being said, I now give myself permission to relax.  Little Bun is coming soon.  I have a very short amount of time with this normal before a new normal sets in.  I'm going to love on my family and ignore the dishes and muddy floor. 

And if you happen to stop in and see the aforesaid dishes and muddy floor, oh well.  Someday, they'll be taken care of.  Maybe that day is today.

Maybe not.

Stop by anyway.  I'd love to see you.

Motherhood is Calling - Balemtine's Edition

Happy Balemtime's Day, as we say at our house!

Seeing as it is Valentine's Day, I thought I'd do something a little different today.  Do not be dismayed, though!  It is still Motherhood is Calling Monday.

I just thought I might take this opportunity to share about my hubby...because I know you guys just can't enough of it.







Annndddd, because without him, there would be no Motherhood is Calling. It's because of his help (hee, hee) that I'm a mama. Remind me to thank him properly later.

So, without further ado, here are my top ten favorite reasons for loving my hubby:

10.  He loves my painted toesies.  Don't know why, but it's fine with me.

9.  This is something that he dreamed of for years before he met me:

Although, he probably wasn't dreaming of it on my grandmother's stiff and uncomfortable living room couch.

8.  He actually likes going grocery shopping with me.


7.  He takes me to classy places to eat classy food.

6.  He loves me and thinks I'm beautiful even when I'm pregnant, chubby and grumpy.  Maybe I should add hungry in there somewhere.


5.  His children trust him.  Always.

4.  He knows me.  There is no greater love or feeling of security like that of being truly known...and loved despite of it.


3.  He wrote a song as my Valentine's Day present last year.  I swooned.


2.   He took my challenge and made me my Valentine's Day present this year.  The deal was no more than $20 for supplies and it had to be handmade.  I've been dying to go take a peek in the garage, but I've been good.  Wonder how long that will last.

1.  His kisses give me goosebumps.

I wish I could go on and on.  I know you all would understand.  But I'll let you off the hook. 

This time.

Just FYI...in case any of you want your daughters to have an amazing husband in the future, I'm seriously thinking of cloning him.  He's every woman's dream...plus that would make me the world's first trillionaire.

How's your Valentine's Day going?  Are you doing something speccial to celebrate the day? Would you like to link up and share with us on Motherhood is Calling?  Link up below so we can read about the special loves in your life, hubby, kids, dogs, whatever.  Share the love!

The Waiting Game

My hair has been cut.

My eyebrows have been waxed. 

Maggie's homeschool presentation project has been completed and presented. (I am so sick of India and I'm sure it's sick of me.)

Our last date night for a while has taken place.  (Oh, how I love thee, Carrabba's and Colin Firth in The King's Speech.)

The laundry and ironing piles will never disappear, so that's a lost cause.

And now, we wait.

Which gives me time to ponder some of the more important mysteries of the world.

Mysteries such as:

Facebook ads.

Why does Facebook constantly advertise fertility doctors to me?  I think we're doing all right on our own right now.

Or:

Plastic surgeons.  Ex-cuse me?  How did you know that I've never like my nose, oh Facebook geniuses?

It's not only Facebook though.

Let's add Groupon to the mix.

Anyone else out there do Groupon?  They send you an email everyday with this great offer for a local business.  I love it. 

Until there's an offer like:

$99 for one laser vein-removal treatment. 

Who thinks I need laser vein-removal?  Hmph.

I'm beginning to take this personally.

And ladies who are in their ninth month of pregnancy with their fifth child should never have to take things personally.

There must be a conspiracy somewhere.

Ah, another mystery to solve while we wait.

1st Corinthians 13 - Jamie Style

Do you know this passage?  I do.  I've drilled it into my kids heads over and over.  Unfortunately, it's me that should have been listening.  It seems that for the past week or so, I've given myself permission to overlook this little passage of the Bible and just have been okay with being grumpy.  I know when my husband tells me I'm grumpy, it's really bad because he never complains. 

So here's the pregnant Jamie version of 1 Corinthinans 13.  It's ugly, folks.  Just plain ugly.

Love is patient (except when you're chasing around a naked 22-month-old because he doesn't want his diaper on),

Love is kind (except when the puppy has pee-peed on the carpet again, and you have to squat your nine month pregnant body down to clean it up),

Love does not envy (except when you see your sister's size one jeans fitting too big for her and her baby is barely six months old and you haven't been a size one since sixth grade),

Love does not boast (except when you proudly show off the cute baby items that you've made with your limited sewing skills.  Ahem.),

Love is not proud (except when you get on the scale and you realize you've only gained twenty three pounds in the whole pregnancy),

Love does not behave rudely (except when children and doggies are screaming bloody-murder and running figure eights in the kitchen while mama is trying to do dishes and daddy is in the office doing the taxes, so he's no help and Ju-Ju is screaming because the doggies keep biting his diaper),

Love does not seek it's own (except when it asks her husband to get up three times in the middle of the night to take care of her chirping cell phone so she doesn't have to get a crane to hoist her out of bed.),

Love is not easily angered (except when we're running late somewhere and the middle two kids are supposed to be helping me get the youngest buckled in his car seat and decide after five minutes of me walking them through the process, again, they're not going to do it, resulting in me having to heave myself out of the car, climb to the back seat and buckle him in myself),

Love thinks no evil (except when hubby sends the almost two year old to you with a stinky diaper, meaning you have to a) smell the child b) get on the floor to change the child and c) again chase the naked child around because he refuses to hold still to get a diaper and pants on because all of the sudden the silly child hates pants with every fiber of his being),

Love does not rejoice in iniquity, but delights in the truth (except if the truth is that one of the children has decided to eat all of the chocolate in the house without asking mama),

Love bears all things (except when the OB won't move up your c-section date because you just want to meet your son for heaven's sake),

Believes all things (except when it feels like this pregnancy has been lasting for-e-ver and I swear it will never end),

Hopes all things (except when it's that the baby is coming today),

Endures all things (except when someone forgot to put the garbage out, AGAIN),

Love never fails (But Jamie does.  Repeatedly.).

Um, that's a lot of "excepts".

I guess someone here needs an attitude adjustment and that someone is me. 

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to my family for being so grumpy.  WAY grumpy.  I love you and I'm thankful you love me too.  I've been rather porcupine-ish lately.  Sorry about that. Thank you for showing me what God's unconditional love is like.

And I'd also like to thank God that I'm not an elephant that is pregnant for two years.

Amen.

A Mama of Boys

(There was a system mess-up with my linky, but it's fixed now.  Forgive the inconvenience.  Of couse, that's only if you were inconvenienced.)

Apparently, there is some big football game on tonight.

"How did you know?" you might ask me. 

Well, let's just say I had a very excited five-year old come bouncing on my bed at 7:30 this morning.  He burst into our room excitedly yelling, "Daddy, do you know what day it is?"

I've only been hearing about it for the last four weeks.  Four long, long weeks.  I haven't been thinking about the game for the last four weeks.  Only the food.

Pardon me for a minute whilst I wipe the drool off of the keyboard.

My son Bubba knows more about football at the age of five than I knew at the age of twenty-five.  And that's a good thing in my book.

Really, I don't need to know that much about football.  I've learned quite a bit over the years, thanks to my hubby's patient explanations, but I'm quite happy to let my son's knowledge and passion far surpass my own. 

It's the natural order of things.

That means that my husband is doing his job.  He's taking his son and teaching him about the important (and let's face it, not so important things like football) things in life.  Our son looks to him with pride and admiration in his eyes.

And that is more than priceless.

Let me encourage you, ladies, if you have young sons, to encourage your sons by lifting their daddy up by your words and your respectful actions.

I know that when Bubba was a baby, I had to learn to let his Daddy treat him like a boy.  My heart cried out, "But he's my baby."  That's natural and understandable.  God got a hold of my heart one day, however, and told me that he's my husband's son, too, and I needed to be okay with him being taught "boy stuff".

Now I readily acknowledge that this has been difficult at times.  I've watched my husband wrestle, trip, tackle, camp, chase and play rough with both of my boys over the years.  And guess what?

They love every minute of it.

And that means that we're both doing our jobs.  Daddy is treating them like the boys they are and I'm just turning around at times so I don't have to watch some inevitable accident occur.

Now Daddy is asking when he can take Bubba hunting.

All I can say is, "But that's my baby!"

God's still working on me.  Baby steps...









Thank you for joining me on Motherhood is Calling Mondays!  Won't you please join me in linking up with your motherhood posts, tips, pictures, funny stories?  I would love to hear what you have to say!  Just grab my button (<--------------) and then link back here.

Ode To A Frosty

Tonight as I sat down to write what has made me joyful this past week, I had something completely different in mind.  Oh, I was going to force y'all to sit and listen to a completely adorable video of my not-quite-two-year-old counting...because he's brilliant, y'all.  And I'm not just saying that.

But the funniest thing happened when I sat down at the computer.  My stomach started growling.  Now listen, I had eaten a significantly bigger dinner than usual (there's only so much room left, don'tcha know) and so I was taken aback.  And even though I just went grocery shopping a few days ago, nothing and I mean nothing was going to make me feel more joyful than a Wendy's Chocolate Frosty.

So, off I trotted to the family room to where hubby was reclining.  I batted my eyes in a wifely manner, stroked his cheek and whispered, "Will you go get a frosty for me?"

This is how my husband found himself going out at 9pm on the coldest night of the year, in a truck with no heater (he could have taken the suburban for heaven's sake, but noooooo) going through the drive-through at Wendy's.  Now, let me just say, in all of the times I've been pregnant, he's never had to leave our home to go get something to satisfy a pregnancy craving.

I'm seriously nice like that.

Before you start thinking that this is just another one of my lengthy, mooshy, lovey-dovey posts about how much I love my husband, think again.

This is the a Tribute to a Frosty.

Daddy had to get a little somethin', somethin', too.

Do you hear the angels singing?

Oh, Frosty, how I love thee.  If I wasn't already married...

And this is why I can never move to anywhere outside of a twenty minute radius of a Wendy's.

Amen.

I am joyful.  My tummy is joyful.  The baby is joyful.

All in all, we're pretty joyful around here.

What's made you joyful this week?  Join us at Sharon's Just for the Joy of It!