Carpe Diem

  Every night I put my little ones to bed and wonder if today was my last day with just them. If it is Katharina's last day as our only girl. If Sebastian will be outnumbered come morning.  I wonder if its my last night putting them to bed as a mama of two. 

It's bittersweet to think of. 

I sometimes wonder how I will have enough love. How can I even be any fuller? My heart bursts daily with love and happiness, how could one more fit?

But they always do. I have seen this grace consistently in my life.  Too soon you think you can't change, can't deal, can't go any further, then suddenly you need it-- the love, the patience, the strength-- and it's there, when only a moment ago it wasn't.

He works that way; so often slower than we think He needs to. Because we are so sure He doesn't know what He is doing and we could really take care of things better ourselves, couldn't we?

I was at a visit with my midwife this morning, and on my way out I noted how it is easier to believe in all-things-natural when you're not quite so near the end. And my word choice made me think this was applicable to other aspects of life as well. I have found my faith to be that way. It's easy to hold on when the sailing's smooth. It's easy to preach it, to live it, to believe it. But what do I do when it's hard? When knees are under my ribcage? When I wear thin and doubt that I can go further? Is it like the hands to the sky, the labour pains moaning the child's eviction notice?

You must think by now I am at my wits end with this pregnancy. But hardly. I am still comfortable, and incredibly grateful. I'm trying to slow life down, and savour time as a family of four, ever-mindful it could change any moment. All too soon, their hands will look giant, their steps will be longer, their faces-- rounder.

They pretty much grow up more and more overnight anyway. Every morning their feet look longer, their voices sound matured, and we wonder where in the world did you learn that?

Motherhood is such a joy, but the time passes so quickly. And my am I thankful, that with every sunrise are new mercies and new beginnings.

Carpe Diem. It's a new one. Seize it.

Sometimes it's tiring, sometimes-- chaotic. Let me tell you, we know chaos over here. But really, let it be beautiful. I don't always. Hardly. But with such undeserving gifts,  I do try to catch myself and wonder, why not?

The four of us snuggle together in our big bed every morning and my heart swells. My husband- the greatest man, faithful husband and tender father; and next to him- our daughter, next to her- our son. And there’s me. Belly bulging, another little treasure within days of joining us. And I choke back tears and kiss each one of them.  Undeserving.

 While I make breakfast, every lower cupboard in the kitchen is emptied. While we eat, half of the slimy banana pieces fall to the floor. Little Girl’s oatmeal-covered hands reach over and grab her brother’s face. Little Man continually calls out for his ball, frantic it may have disappeared overnight.

Their sweet, tiny hands wave goodbye as their Papa leaves for the day. They watch from their bedroom window as he walks all the way down our street and out of sight, their hands still waving. And I tell them Papa’s gone to study and work, all for us, because he loves us so much.

Tidy up the bathroom. 4 seconds into the job, “Uh-oh! Ma!” I turn around to fish a tiny blue toothbrush out of the toilet.

As a mother I’ve developed a new appreciation for nap time, and my routine for nap time is about to change. I do realise that. But right now, it’s my time to fix my bobby pins and straighten my pants and wipe the banana stickiness off the floor. I slow down, steep a tea bag, read a Proverb. It’s a time to refresh and regroup, so I can be the Mama they need when nap-time ends.

And it does end.

But it all blows past, quicker than nap-time ends. And one day my cupboards will be tidy, my towels will be neatly folded, there will be no audience while I shower. The shoes will always be where they belong, and toothbrushes will never need fished. No baby board books dropped in the hallway or broccoli florets under the table legs.

This tells me smiles were shared, bellies were filled. That they were busy; that we’ve made memories. That they’re happy, and that my tasks are not meaningless. That every single moment is important. Absolutely every one. 

That's a hard truth to grasp, in the midst of the daily hustle and bustle-- that the moments mean more than we take time to notice.  My life moves fast; we're fast-paced and busy. It poses challenges, like pausing to cherish the little moments, and even the big sometimes. Like realising with the completion of every moment, I'll never, ever, have that one back. How was it spent?

I confess I've cringed and fought thoughts of how it would be faster, easier, to pick up the veggies and refold the towels myself. I daily battle the urge to fold laundry during naps, just so it can be done in a fraction of the time. And not very long ago, for once, I remembered I was pregnant. I was feeling  pregnant, and black was not a slimming colour.  I wanted my feet propped, I wanted to close my eyes, I wanted to relax, and both naps seemed an hour too short.

You know what I did? I turned on Walle. Walle. For my 1-year-olds. I know what you're thinking. I'm a great Mom.

For 3 minutes they sat and watched the computer-generated image squeak and roll around on the screen. Then they were by my side, Sebastian with a block in each hand, wanting to build a tower in my palm. Katharina had stood up and needed arms stretched out, cheering her on while she toddled across the living room.

And so I rubbed my eyes and rolled off the couch. And I had to refocus, because I know I believe it: don't even blink. Live it.

I’ll miss picking up peas off the kitchen floor, I’ll miss diapers. I’ll long for tiny hands to pull at my legs, to beat against my hardwood floors. I’ll wish laundry took three times as long because baby hands wanted to help load each and every item into the washing machine. I’ll wish grocery shopping wasn’t such a quick trip. I’ll miss tiny voices calling for me each morning. I’ll miss scrunched-up noses and new-tooth grins. 

 One day, my home will be empty. And that time will come so much faster than I can even believe. And with the quiet and the emptiness, the days of toothbrushes in the toilet and keys in the trash, little ones sitting on their knees, watching and waiting while I shower-- gone.  

And what if this is it? What if today is my last? My last day to roar and chase to the pitter patter of little tiger paws across the hardwood? My last to kiss rosy cheeks and tiny feet, to swaddle them tight and read their favourite stories?  This always gets me, and during our time at night, I replay my day to my husband. How have I loved them? How have I nurtured them, directed them, instructed them? Am I purposing to live worthy of this high calling? (And it is a high one, Mamas. We should feel honoured).

I have to live life, to love fully, to trust that with every hurdle and storm, there is sufficient grace to conquer. To find the lesson and the beauty in every moment-- because I am sure it’s there-- and drink it whole. And just to smile as I mop the shampoo off the bathroom tile, because chances are it needed washed anyway.

Carpe Diem.

Little Katharina

Suddenly, our little girl has curls!

...and she just may be turning into a redhead!

The Visionary.

I was sitting up straight, cross-legged in the middle of the bed and his eyes were gently, seriously, piercing mine. He named a few things he hopes to accomplish in this life, all great things that won't come easily. And then he said:

"I may not be able to accomplish them, but if Sebastian does, or Katharina, then they are still being accomplished, and that is what matters-- not that I myself am the one to do it. That's being a kingdom-builder."

There's the planting of the seed, and then there is the sowing of the crop we may never witness in our lifetime. It's seeing the things that are to be done. Having the vision, then planting it, and releasing the weight of the harvest to our next generation. Peter is all about the next generation.

And he's a visionary with a vision that far surpasses anything I could have ever imagined to accomplish on this earth. But together, he's confident we can be used for great things, and if not us, then our children, who will pass these dreams down to our grandchildren. And the legacy begins. That is why he takes fatherhood so seriously.

He was at the sea and called me from the end of the pier, the fierce wind blowing into the phone, I could barely make out what he was saying. But this I heard: "We need to start a book, a bucket list of sorts, of things that we hope to do, places we would like to go, things we want to accomplish, things we hope to change, all before we die. There are too many things to just keep mental notes."

He's inspired when he's out there. The deep, dark sea tossing waves up and over the edge of the rocks beneath his feet. He comes home with wet loafers and soggy socks. He's happiest when he is out there, on days when the skies are heavy and overcast, when the sea is mad, the wind, angry. He has taken me out there before, and points at the horizon-- where the grey sky meets the magnificent waters and it looks like the earth drops off. He tells me about another great plan he's thought of, and how the children and I are a vital part in it. In fact, he says it cannot be accomplished by him without us.

And by grace, we are enabled. I am blessed to toil and struggle and sow this vision alongside him, wherever life takes us. I'm thankful for him, this man with great plans and an ever-rolling mind. There is something terribly attractive about a man with a multi-generational vision, and the reality I sometimes cannot grasp-- that he is my husband. What a beautiful thing.

Our house, plus a little bit of life

Here you have it. Some low-quality photos of our new place, and a whole bunch of photos of just life around here.

kitchen. Where I spend most of my time at home.

Kitchen nook

Nursery. Little Girl will join Sebastian and Katharina once she's sleeping
through the night. Until then, she'll be in a bassinet in our room.

Bathroom. Complete with a tub. American's have
no idea. . .

Master bedroom. We've got some decorating planned for in here. Not bound
to happen before Baby Girl arrives.

Living room.
This photo doesn't nearly capture the
beauty of this room. Surprisingly I don't spend a whole
lot of time in here during the day, but in the evenings it's
where we hold family worship and pillow fights and wooden
car races and wrestling matches. It's a good place to be.

Castle Sands at the North Sea.

We took a family walk out the pier and saw this sweet family of swans.

Lazy Sundays.

The sea has been fierce lately. 

Peter took Sebastian out on a man date before he
becomes a big brother again.

St Andrews from the end of the pier.

drinks and cheese after a date to see Anna Karenina. 

One-year photo.

An afternoon at the Sea.

. . .and then the playground. 

Sebastian meets blowdryer.

All ready for our little girl!

What is not to love about this place?

Still here, still here.

Hello, hello. We are still around. I know some of you had begun to wonder.

I'm writing this quickly, and from my lovely new iPad. Because my husband loves me so much, and he tells me he wants me to write. He talks of our future and years down the road, when he's doing x and x, and the kids are doing this and that, "and you're working on your fourth book. . ." We shall see.

We hit the ground in Edinburgh 5 weeks ago with our feet running full-speed ahead and have been going non-stop since then. It's been the great kind of busy.

Our apple tree was in full-bloom several weeks ago and I stocked both our freezers with applesauce, apple pie, apple crisp, and tonight: apple cider. I spent a day last week making chilli galore for the freezer, and tomorrow: spaghetti sauce. I'll need to talk to my husband about investing in a third freezer. Kidding.

What else? I'm growing wheat grass! . . . and a baby.

I am still pregnant. 37 1/2 weeks to be exact, though I really can't believe it. My energy levels are through the roof, and the babies and I haven't had a whole lot of down time during the day.

Yesterday we did a comparison picture because it was the same day in this pregnancy that Sebastian and Katharina were born in theirs. Have a peek. (Not sure where the photo will end up in the post from my blogger app...)

Peter's probably busier than I am, with lectures and tutorials and coffee appointments left and right. He's been diligent about getting out for his 9am lecture every morning, and somehow makes everything and then some fit into student life and being a first-class husband and Daddy. While we are talking about high energy levels. . .

Sebastian's found a new love, and it has wheels. (He is a boy after his Papa's heart). Peter bought him a shiny black wooden car made in France for his birthday, and he pushes it around the house all day long. When he's not doing that he's throwing a soccer ball, crawling to it, throwing it. . .

Katharina is a walking girl now, and prefers it to crawling. She's blown us away with her maturity and development in the past couple weeks, and her favourite after-dinner game is pillow fights with Papa. (I know what you are thinking. We're great parents).

And now nap time is over, and duty calls. I do want to share photos with you all of our new house, and our garden and neighbourhood. I promise to be back again this week (how is that for pressure?). Also, pray we have Baby Girl photos to post soon!

One.

28 September, 2011. Minutes old.

Perhaps a month ago, we decided on a Cat in the Hat themed birthday party, with the emphasis on Thing 1 and Thing 2, properly. Google it, and it may be one of the most common twin-themed parties out there. I'm not one for popular, not one bit, but I am one for Dr Seuss. 

My, how I love Dr Seuss.

The options are endless with red, white and blue. Feathers and funk can keep it from looking patriotic. And if you really want to go crazy, there are mamas serving green eggs and ham with Grinch punch and Lorax cookies and, and, and. . .

Here's how:  carefully take the book apart, removing cover and separating pages.  Simply fold the pages in half width-wise so they are slim and tall, and cut diagonally from bottom left corner to upper right, ensuring the pages are the proper direction.

My husband was horrified I planned to disassemble and cut up the book,
so I made sure to get the one in the worst condition on Amazon. . .
Is that better?

I saved this pictured because well, did
Dr Seuss have twins? This is reality, the
equivalent of when they're released from
their cribs at the end of nap-time.

With a hot glue gun, glue across the top of each triangle, and press ribbon onto the glue. Voila.

My second must-have was party hats. I used this tutorial, with some minor changes to suit. We wanted red and blue hats, so only printed one of the provided templates, and traced it onto our red and blue cardstock. We did find the tabs folded in and glued weren't necessary, and really complicated things when forming and gluing the cone. I skipped this part after the first hat.

Once they were cones, I hole-punched the sides, added elastic thread, embellished as desired. 

These were time-consuming, but way too much fun, and every guest wore one!

I couldn't bring myself to dyeing the icing for our cupcakes, so I came up with some simple cupcake toppers. There are templates you can purchase online for this purpose, but we created our own. The idea is basic: card stock, Seuss images, extra-long toothpicks.

For the smash cakes, I knew a little Googling would produce mass amounts of vegan, gluten-free, sugar-free, anything-you-want-free cake recipes. Loads of searching, and I came upon this recipe for pear fairy cakes multiple times. It looked quick and super easy and so I took that as a sign. We substituted the golden syrup for pure maple syrup and the sunflower oil for coconut oil, and made each of the babies a 9" round cake instead of cupcakes. These really were tremendous! I plan to make them again as breakfast muffins.

For the babies' frosting, I sought high and low. I think I logged hours online searching blogs and cooking sites. It was a bit tougher to find an entirely soy-free, sugar-free and dairy-free recipe. Most recipes call for raw eggs. Or milk and icing sugar. And loads of it, and I'm not ready to throw all that at them. I was beginning to despair, and my eyes started to feel droopy and tired. You know, that restless feeling you have after sitting at the computer for way too long.

And then I found this and my eyes perked up a bit. I wanted white frosting, so we omitted the fruit. It really ended up not being what I was looking for as a smash cake frosting. I wanted the kind that really makes a mess, and the child needs bathed afterwards. Where there's white fluff everywhere. This was tasty, but not what I had hoped it'd be.

   

They opened enough presents to at least double our toy and book collection, and when sleepiness set in, there were more than enough arms open for snuggles.

                                   

And just like that, they're a whole year old. They're learning new things, discovering new places, and far less babies than they were yesterday. They share pacifiers and kisses and food, laugh at each other and scare each other. They hide from each other and chase. They have rug-burned knees from crawling so fast and shake their heads "yes" and "no". They say more words than I think one-year-olds should say, but then I pinch myself every so often and remember that I still don't believe they're one.

Just yesterday I called to my husband from the other room.

"You know, I think these two are one of the greatest things God's ever done for us." 

 "I. . . I think I'd have to say you're right."

And it is settled. Our darling twins, atop our list of greatest blessings. We are undeserving.