One slice from the life of the big crazy family...

The last week of July was VBS at our church; they hold it in the evenings, which only serves to exacerbate all that I hate about VBS week!! It is a week I dread, a week from which it seems to take another week just to recover.

And that's how this last week or so of our life began...

Monday afternoon I had a counseling session in a city an hour's drive away. Marc and the rest of the crew took me over and went to the store while I sat in session for two hours. We worked hard, the counselor and I, and it was a really good session. I am so much healthier and stronger than the last time I saw him in March, and with no hesitation whatsoever I tackled one difficult subject after the other, head-on. I felt as if poison had been drained from me, I was buoyant, light! Yet I had much on which to ponder as I left to rejoin my family, so much so that I couldn't sleep that night, and, among other things, sent an email inquiry to the principal of the nearest Lutheran school regarding our children's possible enrollment.

Tuesday morning we worked out a ride for Marc to take the big van (yup, that's our one and only family vehicle right now) in to have the oil changed and the brakes checked. Sure enough, the rotors were warped and needed to be replaced. All told, we paid over $300 for work done that day, not quite what we had in mind since over the last few months we have gone to living more "paycheck to paycheck." Tuesday afternoon Marc and I spent some time talking over Monday's session, another stressful and exhausting endeavor.

Wednesday I left early with six of the children to join other homeschoolers on a field trip at the Indy Children's Museum. No surprise here, my brain spaced out and figured a two hour drive, when actually it should be three... plus several stops for lunch supplies, gas, and the bathroom... and we didn't get there till noon. Had a great time chatting with the other folks, short though it was, and the King Tut exhibit WAS fascinating. On the way home, as we stopped for groceries an hour from home, I experienced a sharp, stabbing abdominal pain. It didn't let up, but kept getting worse. Finally, doubled over and feeling close to passing out, my children surrounding me, concerned-- I called Marc and told him to get someone to stay with the littles and give him a ride to meet me at the hospital in the next town, as I figured it was time to go to the ER. (A side note, here, if you know me at ALL, you know I'm not joking if I'm ready to take MYSELF to the ER... that's what I do for others, you know, not me. And fwiw, that's exactly what Marc realized as he quickly made the arrangements and got underway.) By the time I got there, however, I felt much better, and wondered if I shouldn't just drive home after all. I called the gal who was at our house, who was to in turn call the men already on their way to me and tell them to turn around. I started toward home, wondering why I hadn't heard back, and called her again. She couldn't get through! They were still on the way there! So I doubled back (this is interstate, so it's turning around at the next exit, in a construction zone, no less) and just as I got back on to return to the hospital, she called and said they had gone to the hospital, didn't find me there, and were on their way home. For pete's sake!! Off I went yet again on the next ramp to turn myself back toward home as well. When we finally made contact, I found that Marc and his driver were half an hour behind me; after I missed my exit in the dark, we ended up arriving home within minutes of each other, at about 9:30 pm. I was sore from *whatever-it-was* but okay, and totally exhausted.

Thursday was our oldest's 11th birthday. We were so beat from all that had happened the days before, but made the effort to help the other kids decorate and grilled hamburgers. One of the gifts given was a swiss army knife, a larger version of the one we had given him 1 1/2 years ago. And sure enough, as he went to town whittling a stick, the combination of starting a stroke too high-- above the holding hand-- and a distraction from another child.... Marc just happened to look up in time to see the boy fillet his left hand and thumb. As I saw the large, bright red drops of blood falling on the porch, my son moved toward me, his clenched hands extended, his young eyes filled with pain, fear, and questioning. Calm as ever, I grabbed a towel and held it on his hand tightly, leading him into the kitchen. Over the sink, I tried to get a peek at the wound. It wasn't going to happen; the blood flowed too quickly and too profusely, and I looked at Marc. "Are you going to take him in, or am I?"

Several times now have I breathed a prayer of thanks that the doctor's office in town now has someone there seven days a week. Because as any mom knows (especially a mom with boys), these things inevitably happen after hours, or better yet on a Friday evening, with the whole long weekend before there is hope of getting into a regular doctor and avoiding the emergency room charge, not to mention the wait!!

So thankfully he was seen right away. And even more thanks, plus relief, when the doctor told me his tendon appeared to be intact. Still, he had to put four stitches to close up the sheath around the tendon, before finishing up the remaining mess of skin and tissue for a total of 15 sutures. As if we hadn't had anything emotional going on already, they were running high again when we got home and shared the report from that doctor's visit. We were just shy of hand surgery, and we thank the Lord for the angels who were holding the knife back that day. It was a wake-up call for us, and only firmed my resolve to stick to my plan for our family.

The next day was Friday. That's the morning on which I had scheduled an appointment with the school principal. I was up very early, did my workout at the gym, and headed over the hour's drive to the little town just north of the city. The appointment went very well. I knew this was the place for our children to be this year, and even with the hour drive, this would be the best thing I could do at this time for our family. The school itself is in danger of closing, a small parochial school in an older parish with a new public school facility close by competing for students. I have no idea what next year will look like, either for us or for the school, but for now it's perfect. Okay, not perfect, but it's what we both needed... they, students; us, quality Lutheran education, structure and accountability, super-small class sizes, and a family atmosphere.

But, yikes! I realized the first day of classes was coming up on the following Wednesday, and we had planned to make a couple-day visit to my grandma's five hours away... not only had it been a long time since we'd seen her, my dad was coming down from the norskie country, and two of my sisters, one with neiphlings were trekking in from the plains. What would I do? Plus there were immunizations, school supplies, clean clothes, AAAAGGGGHHHH!

What did I do? What else? I worked it all out, hour by hour, dollar by dollar, and we did it:

Saturday I took inventory of kids' clothes to see just what bare bones pieces I needed in order to get them through till the next payday. I also took stock of what supplies we already had as compared to the list the school gave me. At the same time, I crunched numbers to see if we could swing a quick trip up to Grandma's and be ready for school. And thought through what we'd need for clothes and food for that trip.

Sunday I took all the kids the hour to the one-stop shopping place, and we bought $500 worth of school supplies, three pairs of shoes, two pairs of shorts, and a couple food items. AAAGGGGHHH! At least that shopping trip went better than the one before, except for 20 minutes or so when I thought we had truly lost the 7 year old (who likes to lag behind when the train moves on). Okay, looking back it was probably only 10 minutes, but when a typically calm and even keel mom (in traumatic/stressful situations, I mean, not all the time) starts freaking out, and the sobs and tears can no longer be held back, and I've got strangers comforting me as I lose it, right there in the middle of the store, because my little boy isn't THERE and they are searching and paging... well, I'm just sayin.' We did find him, of course, it must have been one of those where every time I went around the aisle, so did he, and he was actually right there all the time. But doesn't that take the cake when the poor mother goes through all that, and then the boy is walked over to her, seemingly oblivious? I asked him, "Did you know we couldn't find you? Did you know I had the store workers looking for you?!!" And he looks at me and says simply, "No." (For anyone wondering, yes, you had better believe I hugged the snot out of him. And then I scolded him for not coming with us when I told him we were moving!!)

The adrenaline rush from my fright caused my blood sugar to plummet, so I had a hypoglycemic reaction following our little "episode." Of course it didn't help that I hadn't eaten breakfast. :oP But we got our supplies. Check.

We didn't make it home in time for Marc to use the van to attend an installation service at the other city. (Read: the city that's an hour's drive the other direction from where I was.) He managed a ride there, but I went to pick him up. Yep, that means we came the hour home with 45 minutes before it was time to leave to pick him up. Another two hours on the road, and when we got home again we had to go through school stuff, label, that sort of thing, and pack our things for our brief trip.

Monday morning. We all get gussied up, leave home early to stop by the health department for immunization records (and a few stray shots) on our way to the school. Today the kids get to see the school and meet their teachers! Again, this went really well, and while we all felt like deer in the headlights afterward, I was even more encouraged that I did the right thing and they would all be fine. Left there around noon to head straight up to my grandma's house for supper. I was pleased with how the trip went overall; I was prepared, so the night in the motel went smoothly and I think we all slept well... I only wish my own room and bed could be so comfortable!

Tuesday morning we were to meet up with the relatives for a little while before we had to leave for home again. The communication wasn't perfect, but as it turned out we were able to enjoy a delicious lunch at my FAVORITE pizza place all together before we headed out. We left at 12:16, later than we would have liked for time reasons, but I really enjoyed the time we spent, and I think it was worth it.

We didn't get home till after 6 pm, and I pushed to get folks fed, bathed, and into bed, still making a check of backpacks and outfits for the next day.

Wednesday morning we all drove over to take the kids to school. Other than leaving one literally kicking and screaming, it went well. There is to be a certain amount of anxiety on the first day, and only moreso for a family of children who've never "done" school this way before. All, including the kicking child, were smiling when their day was over. And by golly, so was I. :o)

Oh yeah, and while I didn't write it in the chronology.... since of course this stands in a category all its own... I confirmed on Friday (and double-checked on Sunday) that we have indeed been blessed with yet another little Freiberg, due to be born in flesh and spirit in mid-April 2010. God be praised!

I've been busy...

... no, not working too hard, or being sick (yay!)... for a change it's all good.  My Black Bag Project is coming along as I can, but tomorrow marks the end of the second week in which I have gone swimming, every day, M-F.  Cool, huh?  

My dear sweet husband has "arranged his schedule" so that after lunch, after baby has been nursed, he stays home during nap/quiet time and I drive 15 min to a privately owned fitness center out in the country for a peaceful workout.  (Yeah, contradiction in terms, right?  But usually I'm the only one there at that time, and it's the POOL-- no sweat, literally.)

Can't say as I feel slimmer, or rather less FAT, but I feel unbelievably better already.  In fact, when I didn't go on Saturday or Sunday, I was feelin' like a workout.  Yikes!

In addition to that, after a freakish Mother's day due to a misread of a certain test done that morning, I am able to start what's called the 12 week transformation.  This from Angela, the founder of Inspiration Fitness Inc, who also hosts a free website for homeschool moms.  I'm really excited to do this!  Just hope my motivation holds out, since as you know a hundred million things can and do get in the way of any project ANY mom tries to start. ;o)  But that's why the website support group.  

Anyway, not to sound like a commercial, but for the first time I know I'm actually going to do this, because for the first time it's for ME.  And I WANT to, because I want to have energy to keep up with and enjoy my little punkins while they are still little... and someday my little grandpunkins as well!

Enjoying the "Diaper Years"

On a recent thread, the stage of life when there are little ones in the home was named the Diaper Years. One bit of encouragement that was given was "this too shall pass..." comparing it to passing a kidney stone. This got me thinking about all the indescribable, irreplacable joys of mothering little souls, and I started compiling a list. Here's what I have to date:



Things I enjoy about the Diaper Years



1) Keeps me at the foot of the cross



2) The delicious smell of the freshly bathed newborn



3) Being 'The Mom,' who can kiss owies, give hugs, and make it 'all better'



4) Cute little baby and toddler bums



5) Keeps me humble



6) Soft baby hair at the nape of the neck



7) Wide, sweet eyes looking up at me while nursing contentedly



8) Hearing my kids, including the two year old, sing from memory the liturgy and hymns



9) The hugs of forgiveness that come after repentance



10) It is so humbling



11) The forgiveness my children offer me when I have sinned against them



12) Seeing my 3yo offer to share his toy, cookie, etc with the 2yo with NO prompting from me.



13) Sharing with my older ones a cute antic of the 2yo.



14) Watching my 6yo son hold the 6mo baby in his lap and sing hymns or read a book to her



15) I can't forget that children are indeed a blessing from God



16) When the 2yo brings me 'food' to 'eat' from her little toy dishes, and grins and giggles when I pretend to 'eat' it.



17) The sparkle and excitement in my children's eyes when they run into the house to tell me what they found in the woods *this* time. (snake, lizard, dead bird, saw a deer)



18) The same sparkle and excitement they feel for each other's joys



19) The concern for each other's feelings when one is sad or hurt, especially...



20) When the 2yo approaches the crying 9yo, pats her shoulder and asks 'are you okay?'



21) Seeing the children all vie for who gets to sit on Dad's lap during after-supper devotion time.



22) Watching them sleep



23) The whole family rejoicing together when the potty learning child 'goes' in the toilet!



24) The enthusiastic response when we tell the children we are expecting another baby



25) When I come home from the store, and the little ones say to me, "HI, Mommy!" with bright smiles and warm voices, as though I had been gone two days rather than two hours.



26) When I come out of the bedroom in the morning, and the little ones say to me, "HI, Mommy!" with bright smiles and warm voices, as though I had come home from the store.



27) When my 4yo son wraps his arms around me and says,"You're MY mommy! You're a good mommy."



28) Knowing I may see all these precious souls in heaven one day, and thanking God daily for the privilege of being their mommy!


Anyone else??

Sick and Tired

I am sick of being tired, and I am tired of being sick.

There is no wisdom for me to bestow on this topic, rather, I am open to any suggestions I haven't already tried for fighting these two my greatest enemies when it comes to getting things done and feeling well.

Sick... maybe this isn't something other moms have to deal with the way I have, but when I'm doing a job that is challenging enough for someone who is WELL (my dear husband vouches for this, as he found out the couple of times he's had the kids alone for a few days-- and that's without the baby), then what of me when I am not? I'll tell you what, I just make it through the best I can. Migraine headaches, hypo- or hyper- thyroid symptoms, hypoglycemia, chronic digestive illness... the days I feel well are far outnumbered by the days when something is making me sick. Throw in on top of that sinus headaches and infection, bladder infections, and you've got a smorgasbord of answers when someone (like my sweet unsuspecting husband) unwittingly asks the innocent question,"How are you feeling today?"

I just finally quit answering, and most mornings when my husband asks me, I say, I'll let you know when I get out of bed. ;) For quite some time now, my hands have been feeling stiff and/or cramped most of the time. I regularly wake up in the morning with them totally numb, even if I haven't slept on them funny. Often my feet feel that way too. I am beginning to think I am developing some new malady. Already I am so frustrated by the ups and downs of my thyroid (which was stable for a long time), I am seeking out an endocrinologist. Hopefully something helpful comes of that.


Tired, yeah, well, aren't we all?! For some reason I just can't accept that feeling fatigued and having no energy is an inevitable part of daily life, such that it makes the days I am NOT tired such a rare occurrence. Pregnancy, working hard without looking like it because it's internal-- I get it. Even postpartum, with the recovery time, sleep deprivation, and everything nursing a baby takes out of me-- I get it.

But what about now? For most of our marriage, there has been little time between pregnancies to think about what 'normal' might feel like, if there is such a thing, but now having 20 and 21 month stretches between the births of children 6, 7 and 8, I have to wonder. Honestly, I think the expectant state IS my normal, and my doctors have confirmed this. It's when my thyroid is most stable, and I feel my best. I know, I know, that's one of those weirdnesses too.

So I don't really know what to do with myself when I am NOT pregnant. Other than nurse current baby contentedly and wait for the next excuse to quit trying to hide my empty-momma-belly. None of this takes away from the view I have of my children, and of course I know I am supposed to be making the effort to spend more time with them/give them more attention in the "in-between" time. Somehow though, it doesn't happen. I'm always tired, I struggle to get out of bed in the morning, I muddle through the day, and strangely seem to come alive just when I should be going to bed, finally wind down to fall asleep, and start the whole crazy thing over the next day.

I know many people would dismiss my concerns with one easy cause, and hence one easy solution: "Well, you know, if you wouldn't have so many kids... if you'd at least space them farther apart... if you'd give yourself a 'break' for once!"

My response, is: Okay, and then what? Then I wouldn't be tired all the time? And all my health symptoms, both physical and emotional, would magically disappear? I really doubt it. And if it did, then is it really worth it? All the trials I have faced may not be fun at the time, and frankly it downright stinks sometimes, but that's the seemingly 'foolish' thing about faith... "We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28)"

How often I lament that I don't feel like I can be the mom I want to be. I want to smile, laugh, and enjoy my children both now while they are so young, and as they grow up. I want to be able to teach my girls how to be gentle and capable young women, the way I WASN'T taught. I want to teach my children the self-control I don't have, and to love one another as Christians the way I constantly fail to do.

But then again, I DO see my children loving each other, and my girls (and boys) ARE much handier in the kitchen now than I was at 21. They are generous, kind, and so very forgiving. When they are not irritating, slapping, hitting, or spitting on one another, that is. :} How have they learned any of these things? By God's grace, they learn in spite of my weakness, and in fact through my weakness. My children know that their mother is a miserable sinner and that I too struggle to do the good I want to do and fail to avoid the sin I don't want to do. They see in me a helpless sinner in need of a Savior, a redeemed sinner through the Savior Jesus Christ, and sanctified sinner/saint struggling with her own Other Mom daily... ummm, hourly!

Of course, we all know this already, right? I know it, and I need to be reminded. Often. But at the same time, how is a mom to cope who is always tired and/or sick? I am open to suggestions, especially new ones I haven't already tried. But I'm pretty sure I am going to find out that this is just one more part of life in this sin-sick world, and there isn't a whole lot more I can do about it than continue to muddle through.

Let's Get the Ball Rolling

I have been too swamped by "life" to get to this, so I'm just going to open it up and see what some of you have to say first.

What is reasonable to expect of CSPP husbands, as far as helping out the dear wife at home? And spending time with the family? Particularly, how does this play out for those who are pastors' families? It is lonelier, because we are more likely to be far away from grandpa & grandmas, aunts & uncles, etc.

How do we ensure the Mom's sanity holding??

I say this as I am about to, after a typically exhausting Sunday, take all of my eight children to the city an hour's drive away, leaving at 7:30 am, to attend 3 hours of co-op, do the library, have two baby teeth pulled for one child and the ears of two more children cleaned out by an ENT. Oh, and we have to do grocery shopping too, plus we'll be gone over both lunch and supper. Yeah, like that's sanity. For the record, my husband was going to be along for at least part of that party, but of course now he has a funeral on Tuesday and will be meeting with family tomorrow. Just had to throw that in, lest you think I planned to do all this alone on PURPOSE.

I'm telling you, where is MY "grandma-helper?!"

SO please, tell me how you all balance things between Dad and Mom, so that everyone is cared for, including Mom.

A work in progress

And so it begins. Let me start you off with the quote I promised, from a book I wish all people who are or wish to be married would read. It is titled He Her Honour and She His Glory. I have yet to see the correlation of earthly marriage to Christ's relationship to the Church laid out so well. With regard to the trials of motherhood, Pastor Grieger writes:

"To be a girl is easy enough, if you are born that way. To be truly feminine is a charming art that does take some effort, but is admired by all. To be a successful wife requires special tenderness and loving self-surrender, but is the glory of womanhood. But to be a devoted mother is the ultimate acheivement of woman that makes her a blessing that will live in the hearts of her children all their life, and which ultimately shapes the nation. While it does admittedly require effort and patience to be a good mother, this is what we need to become truly mature and understanding people. Children are meant to put us through the mill, and try us in numerous ways. It is this agitation and friction that finally polishes us to become glorious gems that sparkle and radiate understanding and tenderness. It produces a beauty and glory in woman of the deepest and most lasting nature. It is her family and motherhood that truly perfect a woman and bring her to her ultimate glory, and in doing so also bring true honour to her husband. A woman who has selfishly avoided having children in her most glamorous years, may think she has an advantage, but when she is older, and ceases to be an attraction to those around her, especially if her husband dies, she will find she has few friends that mean much to her and that life is not rewarding, as she must sit alone in her house, no longer loved and cared about. The mother of a well-managed family, on the other hand, will find that there are new joys , and precious highlights in her life right through to the end, as her children marry, and present her with one grandchild after another. She becomes the dear, understanding, and gracious queen mother that is the centre of devotion and admiration for so many.

Lest we have a misunderstanding, this is all in the context of how God presents His bride, the Church to Himself in the robe of righteousness won by Christ's death and resurrection. Similarly, the "glory" and "perfection" of which Pr. Grieger speaks is that which God sees in us only through Christ. For anyone curious, the author is a pastor in the Australian Lutheran Church. He and his wife Joyce, who died two years before the book was published, were blessed with seven children.